I have neglected my Wacky Wednesday, mostly due to finals and feeling overwhelmed, but I am back!
Last month, Sean and I celebrated our third anniversary, which led me to remember the day we met, which led me to write it here. So sit back and grab something to munch on, cause as first-sight stories go, this is an interesting one.
Do you remember the first time you glanced at the love of your life? Was a flirtatious batting of the eyelashes over a plate of spaghetti? A glare in the third grade? Or was it the side glance of someone who really doesn’t want to be creepy but MAN does that person look good!? Well, my first glance was a one eyed, guilt ridden entrancement from about 3/4 of the way from the back of a crowd of fifty.
I was in the single’s ward (a church congregation for singles ages 18-30) for the first time. My friends and I decided to go on the day that they served food because we had low expectations of the ward and wanted to at least be fed. We had been reluctant to go, mostly because we had heard rumors of women being proposed to after the closing prayer, so we sat in one of the back rows. I had just acquired a new phone, and was, along with the entire back row of newcomers, furiously typing “LOL” and “Are you serious?!” instead of actually listening. I had lost my right contact that morning, and because I was short on time, had decided it was the perfect day to do what my eye doctor had recommended–go partially blind. So it worked out that I was able to text during the meeting, because I am nearsighted and you don’t look dorky when you hold your phone up to your face.
I was startled out of texting the friend sitting next to me by a man getting up to the pulpit and sharing that he had just lost his friend due to a boating accident. He then told the story of part of his journey back to church, and shame filled my heart, and flooded me to my toes. I remembered why I was there, and knew that even though I couldn’t see him, that man at the pulpit was on fire (the surrounding girls also made mention of said fire with words such as “hot”). I listened to the man, determined to meet him one day if he didn’t already have a girlfriend, and tried closing one eye and partially shutting the other to get a better look at him. It didn’t work, so I quit making faces.
At the dinner afterwards, I sat at the end of a boy-girl-boy-girl-girl table. Across from me was another girl, and we chatted happily the entire time. Which left little-to-no time for me to squeeze into any conversation including a boy. I wanted to find the man who had spoke, but after doing a quick
squint scan about the room, I determined he had gone home. I finished my dinner and determined that I needed some dessert. Only my friends had already consumed theirs, and, as anyone knows, girls travel in packs. But the cookies looked really good, and I had picked my roll to pieces, so, I bravely took a deep breath and marched over to the dessert table like I was in a speed walking race. I made it there without any encounters and snatched up a cookie and a brownie as a reward. I turned around, already bringing the brownie to my mouth with pride when I nearly ran into an outstretched hand.
“Hi! My name is …” I don’t remember hearing his name. All I heard was the blood pumping in my ears. He had scared the heebie jeebies out of me!
I surveyed what little I could see of this man. He was smiling, but around his smile was the scruffy three-day-old start of a beard. The top three buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing chest hair and a wife beater underneath. I couldn’t really see the details of his face, but clearly this guy was not the dashing man at the pulpit earlier. I muttered my name, and he threw in, “Well, I look forward to getting to know you!”
I repeated the sentiment, stunned at his boldness, and then returned to my giggling posse, promising myself I would stay away from that homeless looking man in the future. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever visit again, and determined I wouldn’t because I wouldn’t recognize anyone with both contacts in, and that would be embarrassing. And yes, those were my actual thoughts.
Flash forward to the end of mine and Sean’s first date, to when he mentioned that we had met before.
“Whatever,” I protested, sure that we hadn’t, “I would have remembered if we had met before.” I mean who wouldn’t! The guy was handsome and confident, not to mention a little crazy.
“No really, we did!” he insisted, “I spoke in church, and then shook your hand afterward and told you how I looked forward to getting to know you.”
I nearly choked. Maybe I did choke. My throat had tightened into an embarrassed/horrified knot. I thought I had successfully avoided the homeless man, and that the speaker was blissfully on his honeymoon with his Relief Society President wife.
–Enter cliché speech about how it just goes to show that we shouldn’t judge people-
But really, don’t judge people on the day you only have one good eye.