A Mixture of Madness
Once upon a time I was interested in having some G-rated fun, so I signed up for Mutual (Tinder for Mormons) and sort of let the universe know that I thought dating men might not be such a horrible idea. I'm an extrovert already, so it's not a huge stretch.
I live in a small town, and am a member of a religion that has some strict dating restrictions, by the world's standards. But when I moved into this house, I sort of joined a family and circle of friends by default. One of the second-hand friends I inherited has been searching for vicarious romance for a while, and of the mission companions her husband still remains in contact with is another single man old enough to tie his own shoes, so to speak.
She thinks to herself, "I should set them up!"
"Can I give him your number and have him text you?" she asks me.
"Well, yeah!" I said, "He sounds awesome!"
She did, but he didn't.
Years passed, and I fell in love with somebody else. He wasn't and still isn't attracted to me, so I shut off that valve and fell back on despair and flirting. A bit more than a year later, my new friend suggests meeting her husband's old mission companion again, and I'm like, "the answer is still yes, but I'm not the one who needs convincing."
After a week of anxiety and silence, I was like, "Look, if you want this to happen, give ME HIS number." So with all of the permissions taken care of, she finally did. I texted him within a couple of hours and he replied as if it were perfectly normal, and so I continued bothering him occasionally.
On Halloween night, he invited me to have dinner and carve pumpkins with our mutual friends' family. I was pretty sure he was just humoring my friend (she can be pretty pushy), and really wasn't interested in dating, but I like people, and I like them. I went.
The minute I walked into the door, her husband asks, "Can somebody cook this bacon? I need to run to the store." Nobody else raised their hand, so I hesitantly volunteered. Bacon isn't my speciality, and I tend to overcook it, according to my roommate. But nobody else wanted to. So I squeezed into their kitchen and started frying four pounds of bacon on a ceramic hot plate while trying to keep up conversation with a total stranger I was supposed to be meeting.
I'm pretty open to meeting lots of different kinds of people, but there are a few things that I find especially attractive: intelligence, articulateness, and genuineness. He seemed to have all three of those. And we had several things in common. I tried to be chill, but I really wanted him to like me, and not just because it's nice to be liked. Because I liked him right away.
I waited to hear from him again. We had had enough interaction to warrant a one-on-one conversation. And when I suggested it, he seemed pretty open to it. He took me out to lunch, and then dessert. I enjoyed talking to him, and felt really comfortable. He didn't frighten or bore me, despite his height and the color of his personality.
But before I could spur anything else to happen, I fell terribly ill. I had a whole rolling progression of cold and flu symptoms that lasted most of two months. I briefly brought my head up to hang out with my new date and my friends on New Years' Eve, but then HE fell ill (not my fault, I promise!), and I saw nothing of him until nearly March.
In desperation, at some point in the last five months I sent him a long message that basically gave him full permission to admit that keeping in contact with me is too hard right now. I gave him permission to give up. But he didn't.
We did make a few other dates, but the list of random and alarming nonsense that regularly interfered had become farcical. Flat tires, weather, employment issues, close relatives hospitalized. . .
The silence will yet drive me mad: so much silence.
We had one more date: a lovely evening of food and conversation, games, and a little flirting; all the while he was fighting a headache, poor man. I was torn between gratitude for his fortitude, and anxiety for his suffering. I hope it was sufficiently rewarded.
And then the governor issued the stay-at-home order, and here we are.
I will go mad. I'm halfway there already.
As Aristotle is frequently misquoted as saying, "No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness."
I live in a small town, and am a member of a religion that has some strict dating restrictions, by the world's standards. But when I moved into this house, I sort of joined a family and circle of friends by default. One of the second-hand friends I inherited has been searching for vicarious romance for a while, and of the mission companions her husband still remains in contact with is another single man old enough to tie his own shoes, so to speak.
She thinks to herself, "I should set them up!"
"Can I give him your number and have him text you?" she asks me.
"Well, yeah!" I said, "He sounds awesome!"
She did, but he didn't.
Years passed, and I fell in love with somebody else. He wasn't and still isn't attracted to me, so I shut off that valve and fell back on despair and flirting. A bit more than a year later, my new friend suggests meeting her husband's old mission companion again, and I'm like, "the answer is still yes, but I'm not the one who needs convincing."
After a week of anxiety and silence, I was like, "Look, if you want this to happen, give ME HIS number." So with all of the permissions taken care of, she finally did. I texted him within a couple of hours and he replied as if it were perfectly normal, and so I continued bothering him occasionally.
On Halloween night, he invited me to have dinner and carve pumpkins with our mutual friends' family. I was pretty sure he was just humoring my friend (she can be pretty pushy), and really wasn't interested in dating, but I like people, and I like them. I went.
The minute I walked into the door, her husband asks, "Can somebody cook this bacon? I need to run to the store." Nobody else raised their hand, so I hesitantly volunteered. Bacon isn't my speciality, and I tend to overcook it, according to my roommate. But nobody else wanted to. So I squeezed into their kitchen and started frying four pounds of bacon on a ceramic hot plate while trying to keep up conversation with a total stranger I was supposed to be meeting.
I'm pretty open to meeting lots of different kinds of people, but there are a few things that I find especially attractive: intelligence, articulateness, and genuineness. He seemed to have all three of those. And we had several things in common. I tried to be chill, but I really wanted him to like me, and not just because it's nice to be liked. Because I liked him right away.
I waited to hear from him again. We had had enough interaction to warrant a one-on-one conversation. And when I suggested it, he seemed pretty open to it. He took me out to lunch, and then dessert. I enjoyed talking to him, and felt really comfortable. He didn't frighten or bore me, despite his height and the color of his personality.
But before I could spur anything else to happen, I fell terribly ill. I had a whole rolling progression of cold and flu symptoms that lasted most of two months. I briefly brought my head up to hang out with my new date and my friends on New Years' Eve, but then HE fell ill (not my fault, I promise!), and I saw nothing of him until nearly March.
In desperation, at some point in the last five months I sent him a long message that basically gave him full permission to admit that keeping in contact with me is too hard right now. I gave him permission to give up. But he didn't.
We did make a few other dates, but the list of random and alarming nonsense that regularly interfered had become farcical. Flat tires, weather, employment issues, close relatives hospitalized. . .
The silence will yet drive me mad: so much silence.
We had one more date: a lovely evening of food and conversation, games, and a little flirting; all the while he was fighting a headache, poor man. I was torn between gratitude for his fortitude, and anxiety for his suffering. I hope it was sufficiently rewarded.
And then the governor issued the stay-at-home order, and here we are.
I will go mad. I'm halfway there already.
As Aristotle is frequently misquoted as saying, "No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness."
You know what's nice? You know he can't see anyone else! This is super romantic. I love it. So much.
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