Monday, February 14, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Being at BYU, which I'm pretty sure has a much higher population of people in steady relationships and astronomically higher population of married couples than most colleges, Valentines day is a pretty big deal. There is a countdown in the window of the bookstore reminding everyone the days, hours, minutes and seconds until the big day. For those like myself who have never had a particularly special valentines day, it's almost like rubbing salt in the wound. But not really because I don't care that much, my self confidence is pretty high right now so I'm not feeling the need for a man to complete my life :)
So, despite my best attempts to pretend like valentines day is just like any other crappy monday, love is in the air.
A week or so ago, under circumstances currently classified as Top Secret by the Maeser Mafia, I was quite unexpectedly kissed on the cheek by a person (we will call him Bob) whom I did not think likely to commit such an atrocity. I made him a pie, at his request; and upon his discovery of its surrender, he climbed over several people to deliver a relatively long kiss to my left cheek, while ensuring that my escape was impossible by holding my face stationary in his hands. My brain, completely overcome by the unusual stimuli it was receiving, melted out my ears and onto the floor, rendering me incapable to deal with the situation at hand. I was at a complete loss for words, I didn't glare, I didn't blush, I didn't even look at him. Not that I got much of a chance—Bob was in quite a hurry and left the room in less time than the previously mentioned kiss took.
At first, I was angry. What right did Bob have to put his hands on my face, let alone his lips? Then I was amazed at my mother's apparent psychic abilities, as she had told me when I explained his demand for a pie that Bob obviously liked me. Then I was worried. Didn’t he have a girl friend? What if she found out and broke up with him? Then I was giddy, "heheeeee, I got kissed! I'm a girlygirl and get excited about stuff!" Then I realized I was being an idiot because Bob probably meant as nothing more by it than "thanks for the pie."
I maturely decided to let it go. There was no point in dwelling on it, so I'd just move on and address it if it ever happened again. It didn't mean anything to me, if only because I couldn't make heads or tails of it, and I doubted it meant anything to Bob. Then, one day later, Bob came over to borrow some cooking ingredients, and although I was the one who answered the door, got him the toppings, and walked him to the door, he didn't make eye contact with me the entire time. He also left much more quickly than is usual for him, as he often stays to chat when business brings him to my apartment. The only thing he really said was "That [pie] was nom. Thanks."
Since then, I was trying to pretend that nothing had happened, but he Bob was still acting kind of awkwardly. He wouldn't quite make eye contact with me and his banter was slightly more abrasive than usual. One night he seemed to be a bit grumpy so I tried to give him a hug to make him feel better. He pretended (I hope) to be very upset with me and reported to our FHE mom that I had tried to hug him and she'd better get a handle on her daughter(me)! She looked at him like he was crazy and said, rather loudly, "You kissed her! If anyone has the right to complain its Dana." It turned a few heads but he just looked really embarrassed and walked off. So, although not much has been resolved, I have come to one conclusion: The way to a man's heart, for however short a time, is through his stomach.