sketchy dance or date dance? two boxes in one

i remember one night driving home from an fhe activity at our bishop-brics house.  my roommate Ashley was in the car and she would not stop talking about him.  she’d been talking about him the last few months—ever since the semester change and the radical family swap.  not only were they now fhe siblings, but they also had some intense Russian novel class (sounds like a party right?) and while they agreed that Russian novels should be the highlight of every single and attractive college kids life, they disagreed on EVERYTHING else.  Ashley loved to come home from class and say “ohmyword. youwon’tbelievewhatandrewsaidinclasstoday.” 

needless to say, her talking about him in the car wasn’t really a shock to anyone.

until she said “kassie. you have to date him.”

uhm. what?? date this crazy boy who loves reading seventy-thousand page novels written a hundred years ago by old Russian men with crazy eyes and gianormous beards.  yeah. okay Ashley.

“no, but seriously you should”

perhaps this ridiculous idea of hers was sparked by the conversation i had during fhe with the russianlovingboy himself.  it went something like this:

him “i heard a rumor that you like to go clubbing”

me “why, yes. i may have started said rumor”

him “we HAVE to go. i’m underage and need someone to sneak me in and teach me how to sketchy dance on tables and stages and swing from the ceiling to the beat of classic 80’s dance tunes”

me “yes. salt lake. area 51. let me teach you my young padwan”

**hard-core dance moves demonstration in the hallway of brother Vs house**

did i mention this was just minutes after he single-handedly volunteered me to give a talk in church the week after?

so it was a check one i.hate.you.box and a check one okay.maybe.you.think.i.do.cool.things.like.80s.clubbing.we.can.start.to.think.about.becoming.friends.box kind of night.

but i digress. back to ashley’s comment

“dear Ashley. i just want to sketchydance with this boy. not datedance him”

conversation settled.

until a few weeks later when perhaps i found myself not only wanting to datedance this boy, but ACTUALLY datedancing this boy. oops.

but.

that’s an entirely different story. 

a family in a box

bishop may have caught onto my few and far between appearances at church and decided to give me the very involved and super fun calling of fhe mom for fall semester.  i loved my family. i loved my husband.  and being so busy (in the ward plus 15 credits plus 30 hours of work a week) not only satisfied my (thoroughly unhealthy) “never say no” life motto but it also almost guaranteed that he and i could forget any vague intentions of getting to know each other—there simply was no time.

winter semester the families were rearranged. my husband cried a little bit. the whole family cried a little bit. i cried a little bit more. we may have considered protesting.  we may have made sketches for a petition. and then we may have gotten over it and tried our best to embrace our new families.  sometimes that’s all you can do in life right?  embrace what’s been put in front of you even though you desperately miss what was taken away.

because usually embracing something is healthier than throwing rocks at something else.  its much easier on the shoulders. and other peoples faces. 

not even in the box yet

okay.

so maybe that was slightly dramatic.

but welcome to my blog. and my life i suppose.

but seriously. that IS how it happened. at first…

we had one more interaction—and this one he actually remembers.  apparently at some point during his Sunday school lesson i raised my hand and made a few comments that he interpreted as a sign of my out-of-the-box thinking and interesting, but practical application of the gospel in my life. 

that was when he decided that we should perhaps become friends.

and apparently that was when i decided to go inactive because he never saw me at church again.

to my defense, I was working on average two Sundays per month and I was dating a different boy out of town (and spending my weekends traveling), so I came to my own ward maybe once a month…or less.

so once again, we were cast as mere acquaintances and allowed to live out the cliché BYU single’s life for one final semester. 

the first box i didn't know i checked

we often hear it described as one of those days when you just KNOW your life is changed forever.  the whole earth-shattering event that you’ll never forget, the stars aligning, the angels singing, the whole world cheering your name and throwing flowers on stage—on YOUR stage—cueing you into your once in a life time event; telling you “pay attention NOW, you won’t wanna miss this!”

well. sorry to disappoint.

but this is NOT one of those stories. 

not even close.

i first remember meeting him after sacrament meeting.  in his pink button up shirt, artfully tailored slacks, and with those rim-less glasses that screamed "smart"—but more in a social than academic way—he was definitely someone to remember.  but after a short “hey, nice talk” and exchange of names, i quickly categorized him into my “attractive but too cool to need any more friends” box. and that was it.

we never spoke again.