Am I offending you?

*Warning. This blog post contains some mild vulgarity and the use of alcohol and tobacco.

As a poor, car-less college student, sometimes public transportation becomes a necessity. On this particular afternoon, I was standing at a bus stop, waiting for the already late bus to arrive so I could go to the mall. It was snowing and cold. Next to me was a young man and a young woman, both in their early twenties. They were clearly Asian and were speaking to each other in what could have been Chinese, Japaneses... something like that. An oriental language that I didn't know. After several minutes of waiting, the guy asked me if I was taking their same bus, which I was, and he told me they had been waiting for over an hour. Weird... but the public transit system was nothing if unreliable.

After a few minutes had passed, another guy in his early twenties showed up. I didn't watch him ride up on his bike, but I did watch him lower the bike to the ground, lurch off it and put his brown paper grocery bag on the ground. As he did so, the sound of glass clanked together. Next, he staggered over to the signpost which has the bus times posted. He then kind of straightened up and lurched over to us, asking us if we were going on the bus he was taking in a very slurred voice. We nodded in affirmative. The other guy, who I later learned was Freddy, and I exchanged looks of, "Wow... could he be more wasted?"

A few minutes passed, during which this drunk fellow proceeded to struggled with lighting his cigarette. A few moments later, he stumbled back over to us.

"What does BYU stand for?" he asked. Due to the ruckus of traffic behind him and the slurred nature of his speach, I just stared at him blankly. "Does it stand for B****** You Ugly."

I am not responding to that.

"You don't go there, do you?" he asked, stepping closer.

I glared at him and responded that, yes, in fact, I did.

He smiled. "Oh, that's cool." He started to leave, but then changed his mind, "So, you don't believe in alcohol or drugs or smoking or penetration or any of that stuff, do you?"

I responded, "Uh, no, we don't."

"And you have all that approved housing and stuff, don't you? Men's housing and women's housing, but no co-ed housing."

I nodded.

"So, where do you live, men or women?"

Seriously, buddy? "Women."

"And you can't have overnight guests can you?"

"Well, if they're women."

"Oh." He looks at me, "That's probably good enough for you."

Perv.

He wanders away.

He came back, multiple times with varying comments about BYU. Then, the subject changed.

"So, what's your name?"

I am NOT giving you my real name. "Jane," I responded.

"Oh..." He looked kind of disappointed, "That's my mom's name. That's kind of a turn off."

He wanders away, but of course he comes back.

"You know, I like your style. You just sit here and listen to me. Am I offending you?"

I stare at him.

"I had a little bit of malt whiskey, so I might be offending you."

A little bit?

He turned his back and wandered away. His t-shirt was sporting the image of a pot leaf.

He came back.

"Does the fact that I have a pot leaf on my back offend you?"

"I don't care what you have on your back."

"Pot grows from the ground. Like grass. If grass was illegal, this whole city would be in prison."

Wanders away. Comes back.

"I like your braces. They're a nice color. Are you going to Salt Lake? Sandy?"

I hesitated. Where would make a good story? Also, how was I to know he wouldn't follow me off the bus no matter where I got off?

He looked at me and his face turned kind of sour, "You seem indecisive. I don't like that. It seems like you don't want to tell me where you're going."

Now, what could ever give you an idea like that?

"Are you married?"

Over his shoulder, a cop car pulled up to the curb. Out stepped an officer.

He started babbling some question about who would I rather marry when the police officer tapped the man and pulled him aside. Whilst the officer was questioning our dear drunk friend, the bus pulled up, I boarded, and the bus pulled away.

Rachel's tip... for life:

Getting drunk isn't going to help you pick up chicks at the bus stop. Just sayin'.

Best wishes,

Rachel

That's a nice lost and found shelf....

So, I work at a campus library. During the summer, there aren't many students around and the library is pretty empty. One afternoon, I was working at the sorting shelves, putting books on them that had come up from the circulation area. My friend, Joanne, paused to talk to me as she went past. As we were chatting, I noticed a man attempting to approach us. By this I mean, he'd look at me and come closer, look at her and back away. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Much to my dismay, Joanne left me to my books and the man. This man was in his mid-thirties, I estimated. He was of Asian descent and wore round glasses. He had a saddlebag hanging on his side and a full-sized teal bath towel in his hand. As Joanne left, he approached.

"Hi, do you work here?" he asked, somewhat hopefully while sticking his head between the shelves to get closer.

"Yes, I do," I replied, trying to pay more attention to the books in my arm than the man with his head in the shelves.

"You do?!" He was thrilled. Yes, thrilled, "This is such a nice library you have here!"

Um.... yes. Because it belongs to me and everything. "Thanks? I like it."

He looked up at me, rather shocked, "You agree with me? You really agree with me?"

I was not sure how to respond. At all. So, I did what I could and smiled and nodded. Book on shelf. Next book on shelf.

"So, I have this bath towel," he holds it up. On closer inspection, it was damp. Odd.

He continues, "I was wondering if I could leave it here. While I study. Since I think I look a little odd carrying it around. But I don't think anyone would steal it, do you? I mean, it's just a towel. But it would be okay if someone stole it... I mean, it's just a towel..."

Whoa, Bessie. Chill out. But... why would you ever leave it on a desk in the library?

"You could leave it on the lost and found shelf?" I suggested. I was grasping for something, anything.... just leaving it on the table seemed awkward. And wrong.

His eyes lit up. "You have a lost and found shelf?!"

Why was he so excited about everything? I nodded.

"Can I see it?"

This was a moment when I was really grateful the lost and found shelf was just at the end of the range of shelves. And that I had a radio. I took him down to the lost and found shelf.

"Wow! This is a nice lost and found shelf."

Um... yes? I suppose it is?

So he put the towel on the shelf and turned to me. "I'm just going to leave it here. I don't think anyone will steal it, do you? I mean, it's just a towel... but it's not worth much so it's okay if they do."

Why was he so hung up on that?

"I'm going to be just studying right over there if you need me. I'll just be over there for the next thirty minutes."

Uh... noted.

"If your supervisor, the supervisor on this floor asks you what's going on, you can just tell them what's happening. I don't want to get you in trouble."

For having a towel on the lost and found shelf?

"Well, I am the supervisor on this floor..."

He paused, turned back to me and looked me up and down. His tone of voice changed from excited and innocent to suggestive, "Well, I've underestimated you."

He left. Then the oddity of the situation hit me. I hurriedly put the last of the books away then took the back way down to the main floor so I didn't have to pass the towel man on the way down.

After some conversations with my fellow library workers, I learned that others had had similar encounters. There was one girl who had been pestered for a ride to a used book store and a guy who had been bothered about the towel, also. We banded together and talked to our boss. Being the protective man that he was, he immediately talked to security with our complaints in hand. We learned that this man had a record and had spent time in prison. Oh good.

Cheers!

Rachel

Strawberry Fields Forever

So, this story has nothing to do with the Beatles, but as I sit here eating some strawberries I am reminded of an awkward guy story from my past -- And you'll see the connection in a minute. 


February 14, 2010 -- That morning I drove up to spend the morning with my family, and get to see my new baby cousin. That afternoon I got back to my apartment, and closed the door behind me. I walked into the kitchen to put a few things away, and saw a figure walk by the window, but I didn't pay much attention because there were usually people walking by during that time of the day.


Then there was a quick knock at the front door and I saw a figure RUN past the window. I walked over to the front door and found a huge plate of chocolate covered strawberries on the doorstep. There was a card on top, addressed to me. I looked down the hallway, but couldn't see anyone there, so I quickly moved the plate of goodies inside.


I called my roommates into the kitchen to see what I had just gotten. I opened the card and began reading the poem inside --- not just a printed poem, but a personal note from a guy that lived down the street [So much for ding-dong ditching if the card has a name anyway... ??]. The card was so sweet, and definitely made my Valentine's Day... but I maybe had said 10 words to this guy the whole time I've known him. 


When I saw him later that night, I really didn't know how to react or how to say thank you. As much as I felt awkward for being given chocolate covered strawberries, from a guy I barely knew, my roommates and friends sure appreciated the sugary goodness they provided. And thinking back on it now --- maybe I'm the awkward one.


Until next time, Robin

Words of Encouragement

I just realized that we missed out on a big opportunity - APRIL FOOLS' DAY! Who knows what outlandish date story we could have come up with... especially because all these other creepy stories we share actually happen. I'll have to start thinking about one and then there will be a GREAT one for next year.

---

Over the last few months, every time one of my a guy-friends posts an update on his life, it is all about how girls are ridiculous. Or how upset he is that he is not married. Or how he was engaged last year and now he still isn't married. Or how depressed he is about not being married. Or how sad he is that a girl turned him down for a second date... And on. And on. And on.

As you can see, not a big optimistic person. Well, this weekend was the last straw, and I finally sent him a message to get him to stop having a constant pity-party for the world to see. I really wanted to tell him to just shut-up and get over himself, but I restrained my fingers from typing those words. In the end, my message told him to stop worrying about it, that he is trying and dating people, and that marriage will come eventually -- Something to that effect.

The next day I got a message from him, thanking me for the message of encouragement... And then he asked if my Friday was free. Hmm... Not exactly what I was going for with that message.


Until next time, Robin

Frozen Memories

I must be a glutton for punishment, because I said yes to a THIRD date with John for last weekend. All he would tell me is that we were going on an adventure with his roommates. Sounds like potential fun could be had… but what kind of adventure? That would be a secret.

I got a call on Friday night asking if we were still on for Saturday. I was fine with that and asked what time he would be coming by… he wasn’t sure. He had to work in the morning and didn’t know when he would get back. He said he would call me in advance though to give me time to get ready. When I asked about apparel for the activity, he responded that jeans and a t-shirt would be fine.

Saturday came and I decided that I would sleep in a little bit. After getting out of the shower and blow-drying my hair I heard my phone go off – a text message. It was 11:45… and he would be there at 12 to pick me up. Uh…. !! I quickly grabbed a t-shirt, put on my jeans and then had to think about footwear. I wanted to be cute, and it was pretty warm that week so I decided on sandals.

I had just finished getting ready when he got to the door. We left and headed to his house to catch-up with his roommates before the adventure would begin. We got there to an uneven number of guys and girls – group hangout, I can do that. Then his roommates start loading a couch into a truck. And then a love-sac into another truck. Still no explanation on what we were doing.

We started driving south on the freeway, and I began to tell a story about a previous date that I went on that we headed this same way and had this awful hiking experience in the canyon [My bad – don’t bring up previous date experiences on dates. Where were my manners?]. Then we started driving into the same canyon… great.

The trucks pulled off to the side of the road where we were told that we would be going off-roading. The guys lifted the couch onto the back of the truck where it would be facing forward like regular seats and then proceeded to tie the couch to the bed-frame. Me and a few of the other girls just looked at each other with a “Are they really expecting us to sit on a couch that is tied to the back of a truck?” face and started to think about all the things that could go wrong in this situation.

But heck, we were there, so we might as well try it. While they were finishing tying the couch to the truck, the other driver took a few of us on the trail while laying on the love-sac. We didn’t get very far before we started getting stuck in the snow and decided to turn back.

When we got back the other truck was ready and a group went off to try the road again, gunning it to make it through the snow. About 15 minutes later we saw one of the guys running back on the road, coming to get us because the truck had slid off the road, hit a few trees and was now stuck. We all climbed into the other truck and headed onto the road to save the stranded group.

Farther up the mountain means more snow – obviously – and I was very glad of my footwear choice from the morning; Not. As everyone else helped to get the truck back on the road, I sat in the other truck being lame with my feet freezing.

On our way back down the hill, the truck I was in decided to get stuck – Great. I began shivering when my feet were starting to be covered by the snow as I climbed out of the truck to help lighten the load. Finally we got the truck unstuck and we headed back downhill, but then the engine stopped working.

So either we were out of gas or something broke. Luckily, we were headed downhill so we just kept rolling. Once we got to the bottom of the hill the guys began examining the car to find out why the truck wouldn’t start again: the air-intake valve had come off. After a few minutes we were on our way back home, covered in mud, shivering from the cold, but laughing about the experiences of the day.

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Date Tip: Knowing what to wear on the date is important, especially when it comes to events that are held outside. I would have had SO much more fun if I had been prepared. Keeping the activity a secret sometimes makes it more fun, just know what is needed… And even if you don’t think about it before picking up your date, I’m sure they will appreciate being able to change before leaving rather than having to be uncomfortable.

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I did have fun on the date, and it sure was an adventure. Something I’m not likely to forget for a while.

Until next time, Robin

Girls' Night Out = Awkwardness

In an effort to avoid a bloggable date, Robin and I went out on a date. Together.

So, we went to go see a play on campus. The theater this play was in was small. The kind where chairs are set up in a U-shape around the center floor. This floor space is where the actors perform. Robin and I were seated in the corner, comfortably placed.

Next to us was a couple who were clearly on a first date. Poor saps. However, this entry is not about them and the visible awkwardness.

It was a few minutes after intermission, and I was innocently scanning the audience across from us. There was a girl, seated next to a boy. She seemed to be fishing around in her mouth with her hand. Then I realized, her hand was twisted in what must have been the most uncomfortable fashion. Actually... no. Impossible. Also, the size was far too large. Wait... no. It couldn't be.

I nudged Robin, nodding towards the couple. She looked at them in confusion. Then realization dawned.

Rachel's Tip for Dating:

Some PDA is not even remotely okay. Like biting/sucking on the hand of your significant other.

How is is that she and I can't even go on a date with each other without getting creeped out?

I'm going to go gnaw on the hand of a boy. Yum.

Class Creepers

Hey, Carl here. This is my first post, so here goes.

So this semester, I enrolled in a New Testament class. For the first couple of classes, I sat in different places around the room trying to meet new people. One day I sat by a girl and introduced myself. "Hey, my name is Carl, what's yours?" "Amanda." "Nice to meet you Amanda." We proceeded to have a most congenial conversation preceding the start of class.

The next class period, I got there before Amanda, so when she came in, she sat down by me and struck up a conversation. Again, it was nice and friendly, but nothing too spectacular or creepy. I bet you all are wondering why this is getting posted on our blog. Don't worry, I'm getting to it.

So, it turns out that Amanda's cousin Brandy is in my apartment complex. I'm pretty good friends with Brandy, so we got talking, and she was like, "So, my cousin Amanda is in your New Testament class...." And I said, "Really? How did you find that out?" "She told me." "How did she know that we know each other?" "She was Facebook stalking you."

At this point, I was pretty confused, because I know I didn't tell Amanda my last name. I was trying to think of how she got it. I asked Brandy if she knew, but she didn't. I came to the conclusion that she must have looked at the class roll and specially remembered my last name so as to look me up on Facebook later.

Uh........

Shall we dance?

I decided to take a dance class. Of the social variety. This class had tests, as classes tend to do, and there was a competition near the end of the semester.

My partner for that competition decided that we needed to practice. I agreed, seeing as we had a competition in a little over a week. Practice makes perfect, right? Or at least, practice makes "we know the steps and won't look like complete fools."

One of the practice rooms was open Friday late in the afternoon. Seeing as this was a time that didn't conflict with any other classes or work, I agreed to this time and location.

Suspicion should have been aroused when I learned my partner hadn't realized the dance competition was exactly seven days after our agreed practice time. He had only intended on practicing for the test that Monday. Practicing for tests was not exactly a habit I embraced. We practiced for the test, then practiced for our competition.

After an hour or so, we agreed that we had practiced a sufficient amount for that time and proceeded to change our shoes, put on our coats, and generally prepare for departure.

"So, have you had dinner yet?"

I paused, all of the sudden aware of the situation. Thankfully, I'd made plans to go out to eat with a coworker, so I supplied that as my answer.

"Oh," he was disappointed. Why was he disappointed? Don't be disappointed, dear awkward fellow! "I guess I'll have to just find something at my apartment."

Yes, sir, you would. But I just smiled and nodded in agreement. I opened my mouth to bid farewell and disappear, but he cut me off.

"So, you headed home?"

Confirmation.

"Where's that?"

I supplied the general location. Generally, so as not to allow him much knowledge than direction.

"That's about where I'm headed, too. I'll walk you home."

Okay, that's fair. We walked and small talk continued.

When we reached my apartment building, he told me where he lived. Now, remember, he'd told me he lived in the same general vicinity. However, the name he supplied was nearly a mile in the opposite direction.

I felt like I had been lured to dance practice with the intention of it becoming a date, not for preparatory purposes.

Rachel's tip:

If you have intentions on asking a girl out, make your intentions obvious. Don't try to sneak it under the table. You'll get caught. That would be worse than being honest from the beginning.

Best wishes, Rachel

Date Number Two

This week John asked me out for Saturday, again via text, to which I said yes [I realized afterward that I should have made him call. He’s not going to learn if I don’t teach him.]. We set a time for him to pick me up, with him calling later in the week to see if a different time would work better for me [Yes, he actually called.].

Saturday finally came and he picked me up from my apartment. Once again, I opened my own car door [Once again, totally fine.], and we headed to the sporting event we were going to watch which was a bit of a distance away. This left time for good conversation – always a good activity on a date. We parked a few blocks away from the arena and began our trek there.

On our walk we ran into a friend of John’s who had an extra ticket and offered to give it to him. He took it, but we still needed another one so we headed to the ticket office. We got to the window where he said, “You can get your ticket” [Why thanks. Guess it’s a good thing I brought my wallet??]. We headed inside for the game, where we sat on the opposing team’s side. Towards the end of the game it got kinda chilly, and I forgot my jacket in the car, so I had to just suffer through it and pretend to be fine.

On our way back to my apartment he asked if I was hungry, which I kinda was, so we stopped at a burger place where I got to pay for my own dinner. Don’t get me wrong, it was fabulous food, but I wasn’t expecting to pay then either.

He took me back to my apartment, where he walked me to the door and left with a hug. Ever since the date ended I’ve been in this weird haze just trying to contemplate what happened – was it a date or not?? Great. I have no idea.

Until next time, Robin

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Date Tip: I completely understand the want to split the cost of a date – they can be expensive! And I totally approve of paying Dutch on a date, it would just be nice to let the girl know beforehand. I mean, the ticket and dinner were both kinda pricy – and not money that I had planned on spending. It just would have been nice to know that I would have been paying for myself before I said yes.

First choice? Definitely not.

One Friday evening, you're sitting in the living room with your roommate Tabitha. Your roommate Kate had just gone to bed. There's a tap on the door, only to have the neighborhood creeper, Matt, walk in. Not that he's intentionally creepy...he's socially impaired. Dreading the worst, you finally pull the reason why he's mumbling on your couch. Date. He wants one. With Kate, thank goodness. However, Kate has been fighting a cough for the last month and a half, she had a very rough week, and she has work at 5 am the next morning. You shoo him off, letting him know she's asleep and to try back later. For the date he wants to go on tomorrow.

Fast forward.

Saturday, 5 pm. You and Kate are sitting in a friend's apartment, watching your favorite sports team win with style. Kate's phone goes off. Who do you think it is? Matt, of course. She politely declines the invitation. She's sick. You know.

Horror of horrors.... your phone goes off. You open it..... Matt. Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot.

Hello? He stumbles through a question about Kate and if she really is sick. Yes, yes she is. Then, he blunders his way through telling you he still needs someone for seven. Do you have plans? Yes. You do. Feeble ones created on the spot. He almost pleads... so FINE. You'll go. Even though you're obviously second choice, even to the most socially awkward fellow you can think of on the spot, even though he was seeking your ROOMMATE moments earlier, fine. You'll go.

Cue feeling lame.

He picks you up two hours and ten minutes later. Over the course of the date, he talks on the phone, he doesn't open the door for you, he almost doesn't pay for you, and when he does, it's in the most awkward fashion possible... conversation doesn't happen, and he keeps talking about how much he wants the date to be over, but due to the group nature of the date, he can't get you home. When you tell him an hour and a half into the date that you need to be home soon, he drops you off two hours later. This isn't for lack of trying. Sure, you didn't want to go on the date. Yes, you were asked in a fairly terrible manner, but you try to make it a positive experience. Finally, you just stop trying. You're too tired, too stressed, too hormonal to even give it an attempt anymore.

Rachel's tip for dating:

Treat the girl well. If you don't make an effort to make a girl feel special, the chances of her liking you drop significantly. At the very least, make an effort. Ask her out a few days in advance. This way, she'll have time to get excited and plan. Also, she'll feel more like you want to spend time with her and less like a last minute replacement.

Then, you go home and have pizza therapy and watch bad men die in terrible ways. And swear off dating.

Best wishes, Rachel

And So It Begins...

The night you have been waiting for all week is finally here, the night of your date. As you finish getting ready, you hear a familiar tune being tapped on the front door and one of your roommates rushes to answer it before you have the chance to scurry off with the mysterious visitor on the other side. After that darn doorstep scene at the end of the date, you enter the apartment to be bombarded by questions about the status of your evening. Through the laughter, and sometimes tears, the story of your date unfolds for all nearby to hear. Over the next few days, everyone you encounter hears of that night and are able to share in your pain, or joy, about the events of that one fateful evening.

Well, this is how it goes for me in my dating and social life. One night after sharing experiences with friends, we thought it would be fun to start sharing the stories of these fun nights and strange encounters with you, the Internet audience. Heck, if you can't laugh and share about some of these situations, they are not even worth going through! And we figured it would also be a good place to vent about the frustrating process we call dating, which sometimes gets to be a little ridiculous. Or a lot. So go ahead - read on, laugh loud, and enjoy!

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Date Tip: Do NOT ask someone out via text. We all know that texting is the less stressful way of talking to someone, but seriously, it's just taking the easy way out when it comes to dating. And it’s kinda lame. Just get up the courage and call them. I absolutely HATE talking on the phone and understand this temptation, but if you are wanting to ask someone out and get to know them, step out of your comfort zone for a quick minute and just talk. You're going to have to talk to them on your date anyway, right??

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So this week I was asked out by this guy, via text [hence the above venting], to attend a cultural event with him, to which I said I would. Friday night finally came, and after too much time studying on campus, I came home to get ready [Random observation - It's snowing again. Grr]. Right on time there was a knock at the door. None of my roommates were home so I answered the door, said hi, grabbed my purse and coat, and left with John*.

We walked out to his car, where he walked directly to his own door, allowing me to open my own door [Maybe I've been a little spoiled with guys opening my car door on dates?]. We drove to the venue and went to the performance, looking at artwork in the lobby area because we were early. There was good conversation, and some laughing in there too [always a necessity]. We watched the performance and then headed back to the car to head home, and he opened the car door for me. [Oh, and he was texting DURING the performance.] We headed back to my place, with him parking the car and walking me up to my door. I absolutely dread doorstep scenes and like them to be over as soon as possible, so after a quick joke and hug, we said goodbye and I headed inside.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent

[Well, in this case the guilty, but I needed to put in a reference to the cop shows I watch so often.]

So, despite the lack of dating manners, I had a fun time. Maybe it'll be better on the second date... if there is a second date.

Until next time, Robin