History of the Date

Author: Megan Licious | |

This is for Hilary's entertainment (she has been asking me to write it) and for the entertainment of those of you who may be able to relate. Consider it an early excerpt from my future tell-all book.

I have been on three dates in my life. The facts are as follow:

I met my first date because of the a multi-Stake Dance Festival. The first time I saw him was during practice. He and his friend came up to me. His friend says, "This guy is madly in love with you and would like to dance with you." Somehow, after that, we always ended up as partners and did eventually dance together in the Festival.

Some months after that, I get a phone call from him and he invites me to go to a Stake dance with him. I accept. We talked pleasantly the whole way there until he says, "Oh... I think I missed the exit! I was too busy talking."

At this point we are lost somewhere near Portland. "Heh... I never get lost," he says. We pull over and he pulls out his map. Eventually he locates the correct road again, but fails to locate the median in the middle of it. And drives right over it.

When we arrived at the dance he introduced me to all of his friends. The second song was a slow song, and we danced together, but didn't have much to say after Car Ride: Extended Edition. As soon as the song finishes, he tells me he's going to the refreshment table. And after that I don't see him for an hour.

Eventually I locate him and join the group he's with. And then he takes off and goes somewhere else, leaving me with eight people I don't know. And this happens again. And again. He did reappear, however, to dance the final dance of the night with me.

We pulled up in front of my house a half hour later (which he found without trouble), and I'm getting out when I hear, "I know I'm supposed to walk you to the door. But it's awkward. So I'm not going to."

After that night I saw him only in the passing time between our Wards at Church, and hear from him only when I get phone calls about awesome test scores he got or to about a special program he got into at BYU Idaho.

Several years later I worked at a Day Camp for Cub Scouts. It was there I met my second date. He was the head leader with a camp name the cubs adored, a gimp dragon and a great reputation among the other guy youth leaders (since one of his hobbies was making swords out of pool noodles). We spent the long hot days talking and learning how to gimp. Then little things started happening. He would assign people to bring food for the two of us (without my knowledge) while we worked the Trading Post during dinner. He would offer to get me snowcones. He would offer to lead me back to the cars in the dark after we shut down camp for the day.

A few weeks after Day Camp ended, I was walking home from school. I turned the corner to my house and there was his little red car. And him. (I had never given him my address.) He had stopped on his way home from work to see me. He offered to take me out the next night, but I was busy. After that the phone calls and emails began. Somehow it all resulted in last minute decision to get ice cream one night. Then he invited me to join a dance group he was a member of. I accepted the invitation to scope it out one night.

When I arrived, I sat down by him in the meeting and he put his arm on the back of my chair and continued talking to his friends. Afterwards we began learning dances.

So after disappointing and possibly hurting several of my dance partners, we were free to mingle. "I want to show you something," he said. I followed him to the gym stage where a big black bag sat. He pulled it up and unzipped it and opened it and BAM. It was a bright blue tuxedo that he had made himself using his employee discount from JoAnn's, where he worked.

I did not go to the dance meetings any more.

Some time after, he left a note on my door for me to find when I got home. About two weeks after that, I opened the front door to get my things for Seminary at 6:30 in the morning and on the door knob hung a gimp rose and a note. "Because no flowers are in bloom," it read, dated for that same morning. That night I emailed him and told him I just wanted to be friends.

Then I came to BYU.

My friends concocted a four-way blind date for Homecoming weekend. The eight of us met at one of our apartments to make dinner. We made chicken cordon bleu (the boys decided to tenderize the chicken with a potato masher), which turned out delicious. The Homecoming Spectacular was fun and beautiful. Afterwards we returned to the apartment to eat cheesecake, tell jokes, and share funny videos online until midnight.

And the my date paid attention and stayed with me. And even played guitar for us.

Moral of the story: thank heavens for BYU boys.

Pictures from our night: