Awkward moments with my husband

 Oh hey guys! It's been a while. 

And, to be frank, it will probably be a while longer after this blogpost, too. 

Basically, adulthood sucks and is busy, leaving me very little time for blogging. So although I'm making time for it right now, no promises on how it'll be in the future. 

Not to mention that, the more I see celebrities or random people being "canceled" online, the more I fear that one day I'll be canceled for something I wrote on here ages ago. 

I think I have anxiety. 

Regardless, I've missed this, and I'm excited to share with you all a lil compilation of stories having to do with my hot husband. 

Now, this may come as a shock to you guys, but I'm a pretty awkward individual, especially when it comes to dating. So with this information in mind, it should come as no surprise when I say that my now-husband and I had many awkward moments during the dating phase of our relationship. 

In honor of Valentines Day, I'd like to share them here. I will be referring to my now-husband on here as 'B', as I hate using people's real names on this blog.

So without further ado: here are awkward moments between me and my husband that occurred while we were dating:

My dog ruined a romantic moment, part 1.

The first time B told me he was interested in me, it was after our third date. We had gone axe throwing, then B drove me back to my apartment, met my dog (which went as well as I could've hoped, as my dog--Poncho--was generally aggressive towards men), and we were now walking to his car together. I had taken Poncho with us to get him out of the apartment to pee. 

Now, Poncho was not good on a leash. He would pull so hard he would choke himself, which would lead to him making noises that I dubbed "Darth Vader sounds." Sure enough, as we walked to B's car, Poncho was doing this. 

When we approached his car, B turned to me and told me that he liked me and was interested in dating me . . . all while Poncho yanked relentlessly on the leash. The conversation went something like this: 

B: "So . . . I like you."

Me: *stumbles from Poncho pulling hard on the leash* I like you too. 

B: I'm interested in continuing to see you.

Poncho: BARK BARK BARK BARK *tug, tug, tug*

Me: I would -- Poncho! -- really like that. 

B: Are you free on Friday? 

Poncho: *stands on hind legs in a vain attempt to reach the bird he was barking at, continuing to yank relentlessly on the leash*

Me: *stumbles again* Yeah, I'd love to see you then. 

I then pulled hard on Poncho's leash as I leaned in to hug B. He said goodbye to Poncho, who barely acknowledged his existence (the best kind of reaction for him, to be honest), and drove off. 

I watched B drive away, and turned to Poncho. 

"Seriously, dude?! You're the WORST wing-man." 

Poncho responded by making Darth Vader noises from pulling so hard on the leash towards the bird he desperately wanted to get.

B later told me he was going to kiss me that night, but it didn't seem right. 

I wonder why . . .

The first time saying "I love you."

It had been about three or four months since we had started dating. At this time, my sister was in town visiting. We were sitting on my parents back porch, talking about B. I was telling her about all the things I liked about him and said in passing, "Ugh, I love him--NO I DON'T! NO I DON'T! I DON'T LOVE HIM!" 

My sister just laughed in response. 

Now, B was living about an hour away from me at this time, leading us to talking on the phone frequently. 

One night (about three nights after I had that conversation with my sister), we were chatting on the phone about who-knows-what while I played the Sims on my bed and snuggled with my dumb dog. 

We had been chatting for almost two hours, and it was time to wrap up on conversation. (You have to understand how big of a deal this is. I hate talking on the phone, and the fact that I talked to him for two hours and it didn't even phase me or make me anxious was a huge deal.)

We had made plans to see each other that weekend, and now it was time to go to bed since it was getting pretty late. 

"Okay, well, I'll see you Saturday. Love you!" B said casually. 

"Yup. See you then. Love you, too," I responded naturally.

Then it registered what had just happened. I sat up straight and yelled into the phone, "Wait . . . WHAT?!"

"Um. . ." B said. 

"Should we talk about this?" 

"No." 

"Okay, cool. See you Saturday."

That Saturday came. We would meet in a city about half-way between ours for our dates during the week and on weekends. After our planned date, B drove me to a beautiful spot in the mountains that overlooked the city. You could see the lake, the lights, the traffic. It was gorgeous. 

"So . . . should we talk about that conversation we had?" he said. 

"Yeah, probably."

We chatted for a bit, and established that we were certainly falling in love with each other, and were well on our way to actually being in love . . . if that makes sense. 

I remember smiling at the end of the conversation, then turning to look out the window. Now, a lot of cars were parked at this area because, like I said, it was a beautiful outlook and I'm sure a lot of couples held romantic moments there. 

As I turned to look out the window, I glanced at the car in front of us . . . and saw a girl bawling in the passengers seat. I perked up and leaned forward, telling B to check it out."

There was a guy in the drivers seat and he was most definitely sitting there looking . . . defeated. 

"Oh, that's rough," said B. 

"They are having a very different conversation than we are," I said. "Should we go talk to them?"

"Yes, definitely."

We didn't. 

B dropped me off at my car, we made plans on when to see each other again, and parted ways. And on the car ride home, I called my sister and said, "Yeah. . . so . . . I think I do love B."

My dog ruined a romantic moment, part 2. 

Poncho had earned the nickname "the chaperone" after I started dating B. He was not a fan of the two of us canoodling and smooching, and would often intervene during these moments. But this moment was one of my favorites. 

I had just gotten a couch for my apartment. Before, B and I would sit on the floor cause my only furniture in front of the television was a single chair. So, we were pretty excited for the couch. 

B and I sat down, watched a movie in comfort for once. At the end of the movie, B leaned in to kiss me . . . and before we could, a furry thing intercepted us. 

Poncho had climbed on the back of the couch, slithered UNDER B's arm (which was around me), and sat in B's lap, beginning to lick his face. Poncho had cock-blocked us.

We both scolded him and I pushed him off the couch. He didn't climb back on, but he did sit right at my feet, making sure no funny business took place.

The rainstorm

B and I had begun to talk about marriage at this point. Before making a decision, we decided to take a trip together. A few weeks before B and I had started dating (six months ago, at this point), I had planned a solo trip to Boston. We decided to make it our 'pre-marriage test vacation' and B joined me on the trip. 

Everything. Went. Wrong. And, honestly, I'm grateful it did, because throughout the trip, I was never annoyed at B and we still got along really well even as disasters occurred around us. 

One of the things that went wrong took place one of our last nights there. We wanted to have some fresh fish while we were in Boston, as it was right on the harbor, and we knew it would be delicious. It was our last night, and we decided to splurge. 

I pulled up directions on my phone, and we took the nearest train to the stop closest to the restaurant. 

As we walked upstairs and into the daylight, we were met with . . . a massive rainstorm. 

The streets were nearly empty. Everyone had fled inside to wait it out. B and I, however, we were hungry, and I was like, "It'll probably lighten up. And besides, it's just a five minute walk. Let's just go."

And so, we trekked out in the rain and to the restaurant.

Guess what. 

The rain didn't lighten up. 

It got heavier. 

And we got lost. 

The restaurant was only a five minute walk from the train station. But, it was located down a shady alleyway. The GPS didn't take us down the alleyway. It took us to the alleyway. Then it was all like, "Congrats you've reached your destination." 

We had no idea you had to walk down the alleyway. There was no sign pointing us in that direction, and the GPS was no help. This led to us walking back-and-forth down the street for at least 30 minutes. At least. 

I know I expressed to B that we should just give up and go somewhere else, but by this point he was determined. We had looked this long, and we wanted high-quality fish!

Finally--I don't know how--we found the restaurant. By this time, the rain had lightened up to just a sprinkle. But we. were. soaked. And I mean soaked. Our clothes were sticking to our bodies, our shoes squeaked, and our hair looked as if we had just stepped out of the shower. 

The two of us stumbled into the restaurant, and the hostesses burst out laughing at the sight of us. I couldn't blame them, really, and I would've done the same. 

"Here, there's a warmer room over this way. I'll seat you guys there." 

She led us to our table in the warmer area. We took a seat, and discovered that this was a fancy restaurant. Everyone around us was sipping wine, dressed in their Sunday best, with their hair done up as if they were going to a wedding. 

And then there was B and I. 

He was in a a T-shirt and jeans. I was in a skirt that didn't really match my shirt. Both of us were soaked to the bone. And both of us were definitely soaking the chairs we sat on. 

Yeah, we got some judgmental stares from the older folks. 

Guys, there's so many stories I want to write. Like, seriously, I wrote down a long list of potential moments to write here. Honestly, I'm not writing all of them because then this post would be ridiculously long if I did so. So, I'll end with one more moment: 

Getting caught doing PDA

B and I were engaged at this point. It was the summertime, and B's family owns a boat and a dock. B and I ventured out to the lake where his mom and his mom's best friend were skiing. After B skii'd a few rounds, he and I began to play in the water around the dock. B's mom's friend was packing up her stuff, getting ready to go home. We bid our farewells as she loaded up in her car, and B's mom ventured off to . . . honestly, I don't know where. I just remember she wasn't there. 

And, as engaged people do, we began to make out. Because . . . we were alone . . .

But no. We weren't. 

After a few moments of kissing, we heard, "Oh I just love seeing you kids in love!" 

We pulled apart and saw B's mom's friend standing on the dock, staring at us. She had left, but had to come back because she forgot some of her stuff. And she had stumbled upon our . . . moment. 

We apologized, and she reassured us that it was fine . . . but I was too busy hiding under water to actually hear her. 

Anyway. I hope you all have a fantastic Valentines Day -- my least favorite holiday! And I hope you enjoyed these stories. I love B very much, and am grateful he's as awkward as I am. 

Hopefully I'll get around to writing about how someone tried to cut our wedding cake before us, and how someone actually DID take a slice of wedding cake before us. 

PLEASE TELL US IF IT WAS YOU BECAUSE WE THINK IT'S HILARIOUS AND WANT TO KNOW. 

Thank you, and goodbye. 

Vagina guy

This is the story of my date with Vagina guy.

The reason why he has this nickname will become apparent by the end of this entry. It's the climax of the story, so I'm not gonna spoil it now.

I met Vagina guy on the same dating app I met my husband on. The first date with him went well. He was a bit . . . weird, but it was still a good date.

We met up to get tacos. I got there before him and stood inside the restaurant waiting for him.

He got there about five minutes later, walked in, and said, "Oh, good. You look like your pictures."

"Oh—I, um, am glad you think so. Hi."

We got our food, sat down, had normal conversation.

One weird thing I noticed right away with him, however, was that he'd dodge basic questions. For example:

He asked me, "How old are you again?"

I tell him, then asked, "Remind me your age?"

"56."

I forced a laugh, then paused, waiting for him to respond with his actual answer.

Nope. No answer. So I said, "You're like, 30 . . . right?"

He shrugged and said, "Close enough."

I remember at that moment thinking, This guy would be a great politician with the way he's dodging questions.

Now, part of me wonders if he had lied about his age on the app or something, but he did this with so many things.

Like at one point, I said, "Okay, so your mom's a professor. What did you say she taught?"

Keep in mind, he had told me earlier that evening what she had taught. I had just forgotten.

His response was something along the lines of, "How to tame lions."

"Ha. Ha."

Then I'd pause for him to respond with the real answer and . . .

Silence.

I mean, his responses were funny, but one false answer right after each other?

Exhausting.

Aside from that, however, the date was good. We were able to carry a good conversation and got along pretty well.

So, the next day, when he asked me on another date, I agreed. His response, though, was a bit . . . too forward for my liking.

He told me he'd pick me up at my apartment so I'd need to give him my address. He'd pick me up at this specific day and time and our location would be a surprise.

I put the breaks on that HARD.

"I'm not comfortable driving with someone until the third date," I told him. "I'll meet you there. And, that time doesn't work for me. I can come between [insert times here] instead."

Honestly? The time he suggested worked fine for me. I just hated that he told me that's what what we were doing and didn't ask me if it worked.

And surprise locations? Nah, man. That's how you get murdered.

Thankfully, he was nice about it and complied my requests. He told me we were going to a petting zoo for the date.


(Not this kind of petting zoo.)

I was honestly pretty excited about this, cause I LOVE animals, and the thing only cost, like, three bucks per person. (I HATE expensive dates, specifically with someone you're still getting to know.)

Before my second date with Vagina guy, however, I went on a date with my now husband.

My husband and I had a good rapport right off the bat. We had a lot in common, I felt comfortable around him, we carried a good conversation, and had a lot of fun together. My date with him was much better than my date with Vagina guy.

So when the second date with Vagina guy came along, I wasn't looking forward to it as much as I initially was. I mean, I wasn't dreading it, and I was hopeful that the date would go well, but I knew I was more interested in my now-husband than I was in this guy.

So I drive up, and the date starts.

It got off on the wrong foot right away.

"You're wearing the same coat as last time," he said to me.

I looked down at it, then back at him and shrugged saying, "It's my favorite coat."

"Well don't you own any other coats?"

"Yeah . . . I just . . . I like this one best."

He nodded, and we walked towards the zoo.

Things continued to get uncomfortable.

"You have a dog, don't you?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Do you like dogs?"

"I'm allergic. So whenever I come over, he'd just have to be put outside the whole time."

My mouth said: "Oh okay."

But my brain said:



Throughout this time in the petting zoo, he also started pulling small moves on me. Like, touching my shoulder, playfully patting my arm, stuff like that. It was totally appropriate, honestly.

. . . but every time he touched me, I flinched and pulled away.

Honestly, it was weird that I responded that way. I don't normally react that way, especially with someone I haven't gotten creepy vibes from. Yeah, he was a little awkward (but so am I), and I could tell we weren't as compatible as I initially thought, but I didn't think he was creepy.

Looking back now though, I can see that my sub-conscious was totally creeped out from him and it hadn't hit the forefront of my brain yet.

Either way, I took my flinching as a sign that this definitely wasn't going to work out.

We finished our time at the zoo and, honestly, I was ready to go home. He, however, enthusiastically headed towards the chocolate shop next door saying he'll buy me some chocolate.

(Why is it that, whenever I go to a chocolate shop on a date, it's always with a weird guy???)

Dread filled my stomach because I just wanted to go home and I did not want this guy spending more money on me. But, I didn't know how to get out of this situation, so I went with it.

On our way to the chocolate shop, he asked me how old my sisters were. I told him, and he—like most people do—noticed the significant age difference between me and them.

"Oh, so you were a mistake child?" he asked.

I get this a lot.

"More like I was the 'my-mom-had-fertility-issues' baby."

Usually, that shuts people up.

But not Vagina guy.

"Oh, man. How did your dad feel about you being a girl?"

". . . what do you mean?"

"I mean, he tried for all those years and then didn't even end up getting a boy? Didn't that bother him?"

I was so taken aback, honestly. Like, who says that?

". . . my dad's not a sexist." I responded.

"I don't mean that. I'm just saying I'd be mad if I didn't have at least one boy."

I said a prayer in my head for whatever woman he may end up with, as he would inevitably end up unnecessarily blaming her for the sex of their future baby.

"Well he never said it bothered him," I said shortly.

We got the chocolate, then sat down. I only got one piece because the chocolate was very expensive and, as I mentioned earlier, I didn't want him to spend anymore money on me.

I mentioned how much I loved my visit to Africa, and he said something along the lines of "oh I bet it was super, super poor there."

"Oh, actually Africa is a lot more developed and safer than people think. The countries we went to are really flourishing economically and—"

He interrupted me by correcting me.

Guys. He corrected me about a place I had visited and he had not.

He corrected me about something I had studied a lot in undergrad.

And then he began talking about how good colonialism was for Africa.

A fire of anger and annoyance irrupted in my stomach.

I kept my mouth shut, though. I didn't want to waste any energy on him. I just wanted to get out.

Then, he started talking about intense political issues and, well, let's just say they were the complete opposite opinions as mine.

Again, I just sat quiet. I didn't want to argue, I didn't want this date to go on. I just wanted it to end because, at this point, I knew that nothing between us was ever going to happen.



After rambling for a good amount of time, he stopped and said, "Oh my gosh. I can't believe I'm talking about politics on a first date."

"It's okay," I said (lying), "I once said on a first date that I wanted to help victims of female circumcision."

"Oh man, I once went on a date with a girl who talked about how vagina's are shaped like flowers or cactus's. So—what's the shape of your vagina?"

"Nope," I said. "Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope."



He laughed and said, "Don't worry! I'm kidding."

"Yeah . . . still . . ." was all I could say.

Dude, I don't care if you're joking! No one should ask anyone that question, except maybe if you're a gynecologist talking to a patient! IT'S SO UNCOMFORTABLE!

There was an awkward moment between us as I sat and silently shook my head at what he had just said. He just kept laughing. It was so uncomfortable.

And then . . .

He tried to hold my hand.

Right after he had just asked what the shape of my vagina was. 

"Well, I'm . . . cold. I better get going. Thanks for the chocolate." I said, standing up and abandoning his hand.

He walked me to my car, we hugged, and I sped away SO fast.

Neither of us texted each other to set up another date.

But you know who did text me to set up another date?

My boo-thang.

And that, my friends, is the story of Vagina guy.

The worst date I've ever been on: Part 7

Chapter 7
The final, weird interactions

I began to avoid Jacob (Jared?? Legit can never remember what name I gave him on this blog) at all costs, but I knew it was inevitable.

I can't remember how long it had been since the date, but it hadn't been too long before I saw him again.

I went to a service project organized by my church congregation and, lo and behold, Jacob showed up.

Anxiety filled my chest and I ran to my friend, telling her that I had to remain by her AT ALL COSTS.

She had known about the terrible date, and I agreed.

We teamed up and began vacuuming the building we were assigned to clean. And who followed us?

Jacob.

And guess what he did? He began "flirting."

AKA: insulting.

Legit everything I was doing, he'd butt in and say, "You're doing it wrong. You should actually be doing it like this."

And demonstrate what I should be doing by using his vacuum.

I kept ignoring him, and he kept 'correcting' me and telling me how I was doing it wrong, and even said stuff like, "Look — I'm doing it better than you!"

Like . . . he was acting like a 5 year old.

I continued vacuuming and COMPLETELY IGNORING HIM, when he said, "What, are you stupid? You're doing it wrong."

Being called stupid is a huge trigger for me.

Once again, I completely lost it.

I literally slammed my vacuum down, dropping the handle, turned around to face him and yelled, "You. Are. Mean."

It was the comeback of a child, but I was dealing with a child.

Regardless, it seemed to work.

I saw shock fill his eyes. His posture changed and he took a step back and said, "It was just a joke."

"I don't care if it's a joke. It's not funny at all," I said. "It's insulting, it's rude, and it's hurtful. So stop."

I can't remember his words after that, but I know he began to justify his actions to me, to which I raised my hand and said, "Just stop."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

I picked up the vacuum and said, "Don't talk to me if you're gonna keep saying stuff like that."

Rage filled my whole body. It was awkwardly silent after that, but I didn't care. I was proud of myself for finally saying something and standing my ground.

Jacob didn't talk to me the rest of the evening. I moved a few weeks after that incident, and didn't have to see him at church anymore. I was relieved and grateful to be done with him.

. . . and then 2 years later, I went back to that congregation while visiting my parents.

I knew he was still going to that congregation, and I wanted to avoid him at all costs. So, I decided to show up ten minutes late.

. . . but they had changed the time they met at, and I was actually 20 minutes early.

I frantically texted my mom: 'Should I hide in the bathroom?'
Her response: 'No. Maybe. Yes.'

And so that's what I did.

But let me tell you, sitting in the bathroom for 30 minutes is a lot harder than it sounds, especially when you're filled with anxiety over the situation.

Looking back, I should've just left and gone to my parents congregation or something. But I was stubborn and have always had this attitude of "don't let someone stop you from doing something."

It's . . . healthy for the most part.

Anyway, I ended up leaving after 15 minutes in the bathroom, which I thought would be okay, because the program started in 5 minutes, and he'd probably be there by now so I could just sit somewhere else, right?

Nope.

I sat down . . . and Jacob came in after me and sat down right next to me.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi."

"It's been a while," he said.

"Yup," I said.

There was a brief silence, then he stuck out his hand and said, "Would you like to touch my wenis or my waddle?"



"Why the hell would you ever ask someone that?" I said, filled with disbelief.

It had been 2 years since I'd seen him, and I still had zero patience for him.

He pointed to his elbow and said, "Wenis." Then pointed to the skin in between his thumb and pointer finger and said, "Waddle."

"No, I know what those are," I said. "I just don't understand why on earth you'd say that to someone."

He shrugged and said, "It's funny."

"It's weird."

"You should try it in a job interview," he said.



"You try it first and let me know how that goes," I said.

"I'll probably get the job for standing out."

"I'm sure," I said.

Church began and we fell silent. I pulled out my coloring book and began doing my thing: coloring and listening to the speakers and trying not to fall asleep.

About 20 minute into the program, homeboy STOOD UP. MID SPEAKER. WALKED TO ANOTHER BENCH, AND SAT BY ANOTHER GIRL.

I didn't know how to react. On one hand, I was very grateful not to have to sit by him anymore, and on the other hand, I was just insulted.



I think I was also shocked that he just did that in the middle of someone's speech. Like . . . wouldn't you at least wait till there's a break in between speakers?

But, whatever. I was relieved, even if I was annoyed.

Church ended, and I dashed out of there quickly, eager to tell my friends and family the latest in the Jacob saga.

That was a year ago, and I haven't seen or heard from him since.

And I'm REALLY not complaining.

Epilogue
What I learned from this experience. 

Writing out this story made me realize how much I learned from it. It was horrible, it was awkward, I hated it, but I learned a lot and changed a lot from it.

So, I'm going to share my life lessons with you in hopes of you following them, or passing them onto your children:

1. Trust your gut



I'm extremely grateful I got out of the initial date. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I had ignored my gut and had gone on the date. Although I still went out with him, my gut wasn't screaming at me the second time, and I felt better because of that.

2. It's okay to say no to dates. 



It took me wayyy too many years, too many horrible dates, and a couple therapy sessions to get this into my head. I felt some sort of weird obligation to say yes to every date. I rarely got asked out, and I felt like if I said no to the ones I got asked out on, then God would like . . . make guys stop asking me out?
Guys, it's SO BACKWARDS. But it was my anxious brain was saying, "If I don't go on these dates, then I'm not showing God that I'm grateful that I'm getting asked out, and I'll stopped getting asked out."
Again. IT'S SO BACKWARDS, and I'm SO embarrassed by it now, but I'm sharing this to help anyone else who may have this unhealthy perspective.
Saying no to dates is awkward, uncomfortable, and can be interpreted as rude. But honestly, it's a good thing. You save the other person time AND money by being upfront with them from the beginning.
And if the person reacts poorly to you saying no, I think that just reaffirms that it's a good thing you said no.

3. Be clear, firm, and upfront with people. 
I wish I would've been upfront with this guy a lot sooner. It would've saved me from a lot of painful interactions. Sure, I was hinting to him that I wasn't interested, but I never flat out said, "I don't want to go on a date with you" or "I am not romantically interested in you."
I've applied this into all my relationships now. I no longer hint at anything. I no longer hope the other person gets what I'm saying. I say exactly what I expect from a person, what I want out of a situation, what's bothering me, etc.
People can't read minds (as far as I know). Unless you state what your expectations are, no one is going to meet them.


4. Sometimes the right thing and the awkward thing are the same thing. 



There have been many times in my life when my gut tells me to do something, and I push it away thinking, "No, that's awkward."
But 90% of the time, it's the right thing to do.
So I started doing what my instincts tell me, even if it's awkward. Even if I'm clumsy, stumble over my words, or do it poorly, I at least do it.


I'm still learning a lot in life. I'm still clumsy at practicing these 4 things I learned (except now I'm getting married and don't have to worry about saying no to dates anymore HOLLA!!!), but I learned them, and am practicing them in my everyday relationships.

I hope this series not only entertained you, but taught you something as well. And if not, I'm still grateful you read it.

And thus concludes the Saga of Jacob (or Jared).

The End.

The worst date I've ever been on: Part 5 and 6

Chapter 5
The Date, Part 1

The day of the date came. I hadn't heard from him all day, so I honestly had no idea what movie we were seeing, what time we were going at, if I should eat dinner, etc.

I sat at home, doing the dishes, when the phone rang.

"Hey," he said. "I'll be by in like, an hour to pick you up. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, hiding my annoyance.

I really like my day planned out in advance, so this really annoyed me.

"And I was thinking, what if we went on a hike instead of seeing a movie?"

I looked down at my outfit. I had just gotten home from work, where I dressed professionally. The rest of my clothing was packed, because I was moving back down to college in a couple of days.

Not to mention that being alone in nature with this guy was far too sketchy for me, especially by how angry my gut got at me when he first asked me out.

". . . I'd rather do a movie."

"But come on! The sunset will be really pretty!" he said.

"I'm in a skirt and flats," I explained.

"It's not a hike! It's a nature walk!"

"No," I said, finally learning to stand my ground.

"Ugh, fine," he said sourly. "I'll see you soon."

I hung up the phone and gripped the edge of the sink, pleading to God to give me strength.

The hour had passed, and my phone rang again.

"Hey, I can't find your house," he said.

I wasn't too surprised. I was staying at my parents house, which is on kind of an obscure street. I gave him directions to their street and said, "I'm at the house with the blue car in the driveway."

". . . I don't see a blue car . . ." he said.

"Okay, what street are you on?" I asked, assuming he had to be on the wrong one.

"No, I'm on the right street, I just don't see a blue car."

I literally put my head down on the counter.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, cause my car is blue," I sighed into the phone.

"Okay, well, I think I'm here. You can come out," he said.

"Okay."

I said another prayer to God as I cursed myself for getting myself into this situation.

I walked outside, and he stood next to his car.

"I can see now that you car is blue," he said. "But it's so dirty it looks gray."

"Uh huh," I sighed, and he went over to the passengers side door to open it for me.

. . . and the car alarm went off as he did so.



He frantically grabbed for his keys, silencing the alarm, and opening the door for me.

And with that, we were off.

We drove past a Korean restaurant.

"Man, that's the best Korean restaurant I've ever been to. We should go sometime," he said.

"Oh, I don't really like Korean food," I said.

"That's cause you haven't had good, authentic Korean food," he corrected me. "Anyone who doesn't like Korean food just hasn't had the right kind."

"No, I've had authentic Korean food —"

"No," he interrupted. "You haven't, else you would've liked it."

And with that, all the patience that had gotten me this far with him, was gone.

And.

I.

Lost it.



"I HAVE BEEN TO KOREA," I snapped. "I HAVE HAD AUTHENTIC KOREAN FOOD, AND I DIDN'T LIKE IT."

". . .oh. . ."

(Okay, look. I've been to the Korea airport, where I had a smoothie, and I flew on Korean Airlines, where I had Korean airplane food. But I don't like Korean food, and I wasn't about to let him diminish my opinion again.)

It's like every ounce of patience I had with this kid left my body. I was done. I was so done dealing with him.

. . . but we were 5 minutes into the date.

So I mustered what little strength I had left and put it towards being polite.

He was silent for the next few minutes.

"So, how was work?" I asked.

"Ugh, horrible. I had to install insulation into a wall today," he said.

"Oh man, I've done that before, and it was awful. I'm sorry,"

"No, you don't even get it," he corrected me . . . again. "You haven't had to do it in 90 degree whether like I had to!"

"No, I actually did —,"

"And you haven't had to do it in the middle of the day when it's the hottest —," he interrupted me . . . again.

My turn to interrupt.

"YES I HAVE. I HAVE DONE IT IN THE HEAT OF THE DAY, IN 90 DEGREE WHETHER, PLUS HUMIDITY," I snapped once again.

" . . . oh . . ."

The movie theater couldn't come fast enough.

. . . but instead of pulling into the movie theater, he pulled into a candy store.

Which, alright, I'm chill with. I had been to this store before. I knew I liked it, and I knew exactly what I wanted.

"So, what would you like?" Jacob asked as we walked inside.

"Dark chocolate covered almonds," I replied.

"No, I think you should try this," he said, pointing at some sort of marshmallow thing.

"No, I don't like marshmallows. I wont like those."

"Oh, but you'll like this," he insisted, and ordered two before I could say anything else.

As he ordered them, he looked at the cashier and said, ". . . why aren't you wearing a uniform?"

"Oh, we don't actually need to wear a uniform here," the cashier responded.

Jacob scowled and said, "Well, at the other location I go to, they wear uniforms."

The guy looked mortified, and just shrugged.

"HEY MAN I LIKE YOUR SHIRT," I yelled, trying to ease the tension.

Jacob walked around, looking at the candy that was displayed.

"Do you have [certain treat I can no longer remember]?" he asked the cashier.



"No, we don't carry that here, sorry," replied the cashier.

"What?!" he said, "They carry it at the other location."

I can't remember what the cashier said in response to this, but I was CRINGING.

Jacob came back up to me and said, "What else do you want?"

"Dark chocolate covered almonds."

"No, I think you should try this," he said, pointing to some caramel, pretzel thing.

"That doesn't look good to me. I just want my dark chocolate covered almonds," I said.

"No, you'll like it. It's really good," he said.

"You can get them, but I'm not gonna eat it," I said . . . . . . . and he ordered two.

Jacob smiled at me as if he had just done the nicest thing ever and said, "Anything else?"

"Dark. Chocolate. Covered. Almonds."

"But that's so boring," he exclaimed.

Ah! Good! Another insult!

I'm 90 percent sure I rolled my eyes.



I walked up to the cashier and asked for my stupid dark chocolate covered almonds.

Jacob paid for the sweets, and we began walking over to the movie theater.

"This date is turning out to be more expensive than I planned," he said, then looked at me. "But you're worth it."

GUYS. I CANNOT EXPRESS TO YOU HOW ANNOYED I WAS.

HE HAD LITERALLY JUST BOUGHT UNNECESSARY FOOD THAT I TOLD HIM I DIDN'T WANT. AND THEN HE TALKS ABOUT HOW EXPENSIVE IT IS?! I'M SURE HE WAS TRYING TO IMPRESS ME, BUT I WAS NOT IMPRESSED. I WAS JUST ANNOYED.

We walked into the movie theater and sat down. He handed me the marshmallow and the pretzel thing he had bought for me after I said I wouldn't like them. I took a bite of each, then said, "You can finish mine. I don't like them."

"Then why did I bother buying them?!" he said.



Oh, man, I was about ready to scream.

But the movie was starting, so I munched on my dark chocolate covered almonds instead.

Chapter 6
The Date: Part II

I didn't particularly enjoy the movie. All my friends who have seen it like it, so I'm left to assume I don't like it because I was sitting next to Mr. dark-chocolate-covered-almonds-are-boring-and-your-opinions-are-stupid the entire time.

The movie finished, and I was grateful he hadn't tried to pull a move on me. As the credits rolled, a remix of a song by The Beatles began to play. Being the huge Beatles fan I am, I began to sing quietly along.

"I don't recognize this song," Jacob said.

"The original is by The Beatles," I said.

"Oh, I hate The Beatles."

It took everything within my power not to call him, or his opinion, stupid (like he had done to me SO MANY TIMES).

He began driving me back to my house, and the one-upping stories began.

Now, here's the thing. Usually, with one-uppers, I let them win. I don't care. They can think they're better than me. It's fine.

But with Jacob?

Oh, I was not about to let that happen.

And here's the thing: 90% of the time, when he wanted to one-up me, I was just trying to relate to him! Ugh, it was so annoying.

Anyway.

I don't know how we got started on the topic, but I mentioned that, after I had gotten back from my religious mission, I was very tired all the time.

"You don't even know," he said, which seemed to be one of his favorite phrases. Because I, apparently, knew nothing. "Try having a 16 hour flight back from Korea."

". . . I literally did that—,"

"No, your flight was like, 4 hours."

Again, all patience I had previously had with this kid was GONE, and I snapped, "I LITERALLY TRAVELED FOR 23 HOURS COMING BACK FROM SINGAPORE."

". . .oh. . ." he said. "Well, I traveled for longer than that coming back from Australia."

I can't remember how I responded to that, but then he said, "You don't even know. I came back from Australia when it was winter here and summer there."

"I LITERALLY DID THE SAME THING. I WENT TO NEW ZEALAND IN JANUARY AND CAME BACK WHEN IT WAS STILL WINTER."

That was a lie. I came back in April. But I just wanted to one-up him because he had killed all patience in my body.

. . . I think I still haven't regained all the patience I had before this date.



Anyway, we finally get to my house, and he walks me to my door. At some point, we had begun talking about school, and how he was in various science classes.

"I'm a feminist, but," he said as we walked to my door, and I knew this was gonna be good. "Women just aren't as good at math and science as men are. Like the girls in my science class just aren't as good as the men are.

"But I'm a feminist," he reassured me.

"Mmmmmm," I responded.



All my energy was gone. I knew I couldn't convince this guy otherwise. His arrogance made him untouchable to reality and me going on a feminist tangent wasn't going to pop his balloon brain.

I unlocked the door.

"Okay, well, I'll see you on Sunday—."

And he kept talking.

And talking.

And talking.

And talking.

I literally had the door open.

I was literally standing inside.

I WAS LITERALLY SLOWLY CLOSING THE DOOR IN HIS FACE.

AND HE JUST. KEPT. TALKING.



I don't even remember what it was about now.

I probably wasn't even listening.

Finally, with the door open half an inch, I said, "Okay I'm gonna go bye."

And closed the door.

Now, this may be the end of the date, but it wasn't the end of my interactions with him.

The next blog post will cover the aftermath, and what this experience taught me.

The worst date I've ever been on: Part 3 and 4

Chapter 3

Mansplaining

This is just . . . it gives you an idea of the kind of kid I was dealing with. 

It had been a few weeks since I had cancelled our date, and it had yet to be rescheduled. I wasn't complaining. I thought maybe he wouldn't ask me out again . . . except he was still flirting with me. And I quickly found out his way of "flirting" was actually just insulting.

He called me stupid for liking heat over cold, stupid for having an iPhone, and stupid because I had never gone skiing.

Cause, you know, I always melt over a guy who insults me. 

I had stopped flirting with him. I stopped engaging in conversation with him, but he was relentless. 

As I mentioned in Chapter 1, there's a lot of things I did back then that I wouldn't do now. Putting up with his crap is one of those things. 

One day, he sat next to me during church. Now, to prevent myself from falling asleep in church, I color. I have a plethora of adult coloring books and twisty crayons. So, I'm sitting there, coloring, and Jacob plops down next to me. 

". . . you hold your pencil wrong." 

Now, this isn't exactly news to me. I've been told before that I hold my pencil differently. But guess what? I'm still able to write/color just fine. 

"Oh, I know," I said, and kept coloring. 

"Let me show you how to hold your pencil." 

"No thanks," I said. 

"No, let me show you," he said AND HE GRABBED FOR MY TWISTY CRAYON WHILE I WAS USING IT.

I yanked it away from his hand and said, "You know, writing this way has been working really well for me for the past 20 years, okay?!" 

"No, just let me show you how to hold it!" 

He grabbed for my pencil AGAIN. 

"NO." I said. 

"No, I'll show you how to hold it!" 

"Fine," I grumbled angrily, and handed him my twisty crayon. 

He positioned it in his hand and said, "See?" 

"Great," I said, and snatched my twisty crayon back, and went right back to how I was holding it. 

I just . . . I couldn't deal with it.

I told my coworker about it the next week, and his response was, "Okay, that's the worst case of mansplaining I have ever heard of." 

". . . oh my gosh it totally is!" 

But I still wasn't done dealing with his mansplaining.


Chapter 4
The Wedding Reception

I have to say, I admire this man's persistence. I certainly don't have the kind of dedication he does. It'll probably get him far in life.

I was at church again, heading towards the main room, when I turned the corner and BOOM, there was Jacob.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi."

"I was wondering, would you like to hang out this weekend?"

I had come to the conclusion that I would just have to go out with this kid to get him to stop asking me to 'hang out' with him.

"Honestly, I'm pretty busy. What day were you thinking?"

"Oh - what are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going to a wedding reception on Friday, and on Saturday—"

"Oh! Whose is it?"

"A friend from my religious mission...."

"Okay, I'll go with you!"



I was stunned that he had just invited himself to a random wedding reception, and tried to tell him 'no' in a round-about way.

"Well I'm carpooling with two of my friends there," I said.

"Oh, I can meet you there. Where is it?"

"Provo - and honestly I think it'd be awkward if you came because . . . well, I'm going to be hanging out with my friends, and you don't know them."

"But if I come, people at the reception won't ask you why you're not married or dating anyone!"

". . . . they already don't ask me that," I said.

And I don't want them asking if WE'RE dating. . . I thought to myself.

"They do at the ones I go to," he huffed. "Anyway, do you want to carpool, or want me to meet you there?"

Again. His persistence will get him far in life. Just not in this case.

"Honestly, I think it would be uncomfortable for me if you came," I said.

"That's fine - I can meet you there."

Oh dear goodness. 

"No," I reiterated. "I'd feel uncomfortable if you came."

"What?" he asked.

I wasn't sure if he didn't actually hear me, of if he just didn't understand.

". . .It would be uncomfortable if you came. I feel uncomfortable . . . with you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

"Oh, okay. That's fine," he said, disappointed.

Guilty Carmen came in and I sputtered, "But we can hang out after if you want!"

Dang it. 

Thankfully, he declined, and my friends and I at the wedding reception had a good laugh about it that weekend.

The next week, I was back at church, and once again, he cornered me.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi."

"Would you like to go on a date with me this weekend?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, in pure shock that he actually said 'date.'

I'm not even kidding when I say 'shock.' Cause it's like I had an out-of-body experience saying 'yes.' I just wasn't even aware that I said it. It just came out. I just blurted it out. Just . . . yes.

"Great!" he said, "How about Saturday?"

"Friday would work better."

"Okay. Would you like to do a movie or a walk?"

This time I knew better than to say 'either,' and so I said, "A movie."

"Okay, we'll go see a movie. I'll text you more details."

And with that, he walked away.

The inevitable date had finally been set up.



And it was gonna be a doozy.

The worst date I've ever been on: Part 2

Chapter 2

The Petty King

It was the next day. I had arrived at church and was making my way to the second hour of it: Sunday School. 

I sat down, when Jared (or Jacob? I can't remember the code name I gave for him) walked in. He stared at me, and started doing that thing where he rubs his two pointer fingers together. 

You know, like: 

I stared at him. 

". . . what?" I asked, as he repeated the hand gesture. 

"Shame on you." 

I furrowed my brow. 

"I'm not sorry," I said, cause I wasn't. 

"Well shame on you." 

I shrugged and said, "Okay." 

He was just proving to me the bullet I dodged. 

Jared moved to the front of the class because, as fate would have it, he was teaching Sunday School that day. 

The lesson began, and he asked for a comment. I raised my hand to offer one. 

And the bro made eye contact with me . . . and called on someone else. . .  while maintaining eye contact with me. 

I was confused, hoping that he hadn't just done what I thought he had done. 

He asked for another comment. 

I raised my hand again.

And he - once again - made eye contact with me, and called on someone else. 

"Oh he did not just do that," I mumbled to myself.

After that, whenever he asked for a comment, I raised my hand, whether or not I actually had something to say. I just wanted to challenge him.

And guess what happened? 

He ignored me every. single. time. 

My arm was tired, but I raised it nonetheless. 

I felt like freaken Hermione Granger. 

After about 15 minutes of doing this, he — once again — made eye contact with me, and called on someone else. 

"Rude," muttered the woman next to me. 

"I know right?" I said. "I'm not making this up, right? He's ignoring me?" 

"Oh he totally is." 

He asked for another comment. I raised my hand. NO ONE ELSE HAD THEIR HAND RAISED. And you know what he did? He looked at me, and while making eye contact, called on someone else WHO DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THEIR HAND RAISED TO MAKE A COMMENT. 

"Oh my gosh," I said. 

"Ridiculous," said the woman next to me. 

She became my new best friend. 

Thankfully, this time, a good amount of people laughed, cluing him in that what he was doing was obvious to everyone.

"Okay, Carmen, do you have something to say?" he said. 

"Yes, I do," I said, and pulled some comment out of my butt. 

I kept my tired arm down the rest of class. 

I thought I was done with him.

But there was more to come. 

The worst date I've ever been on: Part 1

I've tried writing out this story so many times. Each time, I get so exhausted. It's a good story, but it is LONG. And it's so frustrating, I get drained partway through telling it.

This took place 4 years ago. I was young (I mean, I know I still am, but . . . still), and I did a lot of things in this situation that I would no longer do. That's partly why I hate telling this story. There was so much I should've done that I didn't do. But it's okay, because this experience taught me a lot.

Anyway.

I've broken this story into parts, and each post will be one part of the story. Hopefully, I'll actually be able to finish the story and you all can enjoy this painful, painful experience for me.

So, without further ado,

This is the story of the worst date I have ever been (and will ever be) on:

Chapter 1.

The shortest chapter

I met Jacob at church (name has been changed). He was pretty attractive, though looking back now, I don't know what I saw in him, because he really isn't my type. He was kind of funny, kind of nerdy.

One day, I was feeling bold, and approached him after church and began flirting with him. I was hinting that he should ask for my number, and lo and behold, he actually asked for my number!

I happily gave it to him, then walked away . . .

Feeling absolutely sick to my stomach.

I had never experienced this before (and I haven't experienced it since), and I don't know if ya'll have either, but I walked away just thinking, "I should not have done that. I do not feel good about this."

 

But I didn't know how to get out of the situation. So, I walked away hoping he'd chicken out of asking me out or something.

A few hours later, I was awoken from a nap by an unknown number calling me, and dread filled me. I knew it was him, and I knew I had to answer and get it over with.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hi Carmen. It's Jacob."

"Hi."

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm good."

"Good!"

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . .

"So, what's up?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.

"I was wondering if you'd like to hang out on Saturday?"

I rolled my eyes.

Okay, now look. Asking people on dates is nerve wracking, intimidating and hard. I've done it, I hate it, I get it. But it still bugs me when people say "hang out" instead of "date."

Not to mention my stomach started to fill with extreme dread upon hearing these words.

But I didn't know how to get out of this situation. I had flirted with him, hinted that he should ask for my number, had given him. I felt awkward. How could I turn him down?

If this situation had happened to me now, I would've said, "Hey look, I'm sorry, I thought I was interested but I'm not. I want to be upfront with you and let you know that. Thanks for asking, but I'm gonna say no."

But I didn't hadn't yet learned that it's okay to say no to dates.

In fact, this would be the experience that taught me that it's okay to say no to dates. Sure, it may sting, but at least they're saving money, ammiright?

Anyway, instead of turning him down like I should've, I said, ". . . Okay."

"Great! What would you like to do?"

I repeat: I know asking someone on a date is hard, intimidating and nerve wracking. You also want to make sure you do an activity that the other person likes, and sometimes you're not entirely sure what they'd be into.

. . . . . but I also hate when they ask me what I'd want to do. You asked me. At least come up with a couple options!

Which is (kind of, not really) what I said.

"What are my options?" I asked.

"I was thinking we could watch a movie, or go for a hike!" he said.

"Oh - um, I'm fine with either."

"Okay! Let's do both!" he exclaimed.

"O-okay." I said, when really I was thinking, 'BOTH?! FOR A FIRST DATE?! HOW BOUT NO?!'

"O-okay." I said, when really I was thinking, 'BOTH?! FOR A FIRST DATE?! HOW BOUT NO?!'

So, the conversation ends, and I hand up feeling even more dread. My gut was telling me to run, but I didn't know how to get out of the situation.

The day of the date came, and I was still filled with dread. I didn't want to go, and my gut was screaming at me repeatedly not to.

 I was eating lunch with my friend, expressing my frustration to her.

"I just don't want to go, but I don't know how to get out of the situation," I said.

"How about this," she said. "You tell him that I'm having a panic attack, and you need to cancel."

"I don't know . . ." I said, thought my brain was saying, 'YES.'

"Either that, or I can actually put myself into a panic attack and you can stay with me --."

"Don't do that," I said, taking out my phone. "I'll cancel."

'Hey,' I typed out in a text to him, 'I'm with a friend and she's having a panic attack. I'm going to have to reschedule for another time, because I want to be with her and make sure she's okay.'

'Okay, that's fine :) ' he responded.

'Thanks for understanding. See you at church tomorrow!'

Relief filled me. It's like my body and gut were thanking me. I thanked my friend, and we spent the rest of the evening Jacob-free.

But that's not the end of this story.