Derek and I lived in a single's ward south of BYU campus. I lived in the girls 'green house' on the corner of 500 North and 700 East, and Derek lived in the boys 'white house' two doors down from me. Between the green house and the white house there were 3 dating couples, and we all hung out frequently. He moved into the white house late February 2001 and he just blended in with the gang.
One of the guys who lived in the white house was my cousin, D. D was dating my roommate, J. One night J was over at the white house hanging out with D, apparently complaining that she didn't want to go home because of the overwhelming pile of dishes in the sink and citing it was a certain roommate's (ahem, ahem) turn to do them. Derek and I didn't know each other well at all, but he wanted to get to know me. He told D and J he was going to call me and challenge me to a dish-washing race. With this scheme he could A: get J to stop whining about the dishes, and B: create an opportunity to talk to me.
I was snuggled up in bed at the green house and starting to doze off. I was tired and very happy at the prospect of sleep when the phone started ringing. My roommate S brought it to me, saying Derek was on the phone. Derek? Why is he calling me at this time of night? I took the phone from her and said hello. I probably sounded irritated.
"Hey, Amy, what are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm going to sleep," I answered flatly.
"J is over here with D, and she says your sink is full of dirty dishes."
"Yeah, it probably is," I said.
"She won't shut up about it until they're cleaned up, and I have a sink full of dirty dishes over here, too. Let's have a dish-washing race," he said.
"I don't think you understand, Derek. I'm IN bed. I'm practically asleep and not anxious to do the dishes. Tell J I'll do them in the morning."
"Come on, it'll be fun. The loser will buy the winner ice cream or something."
Hmmm, ice cream? That was more tempting. I still didn't want to get out of bed, but I decided to not be a wet blanket and I resigned to his dish-washing race scheme. "Okay, I'll do it. Are we starting now?"
"Yep, now. Whoever finishes first will call the other one to let them know. Go!"
I ended the call and threw my covers off. I dashed into the kitchen and stood before the sink, grabbing the scourer and cranking on the hot water. I don't think I had ever washed dishes so ferociously in my nineteen years. I was getting excited when there were only a few dirty plates in the bottom of the sink and he hadn't called me yet. I put the last clean dish in the drying rack and managed to dry my hands and dial his number at the same time. I was a little short of breath.
"I'm done!" I shouted into the phone. Have I ever mentioned I'm a little competitive?
"Well, you beat me," Derek said. "Good job. I'll take you out for ice cream sometime. You're probably really ready for bed now, huh? Goodnight!"
Take me out for ice cream sometime? SOMETIME? That sounded awfully non-committal. Great, I thought, I just lost out on sleep to do the dishes for nothing. I crawled back into bed cursing Derek's name. I bet he wasn't even cleaning his dishes. He probably sat on his butt laughing at his little joke and waiting for me to call. Jerk.
A few days later I was at the white house using my cousin D's computer. In walks Derek and he asked me what my plans were for that Friday. Let me tell you, at that point in my life ALL my evenings were free, but I acted like I was examining my busy schedule to see if Friday could be spared. I told him I was open and he asked if I'd like to go on a double date with J and D on Friday. I think it had been 10 solid months since I'd been on a date, so the who/when/what/where/why/how of it was irrelevant. I thought he was kind of crazy after getting me out of bed to do dishes, but a date was a date and I agreed to go. He didn't have to coerce me into it like the dish-washing race.
He said he never did movies for a first date, but what he and D had planned for the night had fallen through, so they decided to take us girls to a movie as a last-minute plan. We saw "Finding Forrester." I could tell you mind-numbing details about that date, but I'll just skip to the best parts. First, as we were sitting down in the theater, I heard an unfamiliar voice behind me say, "Amy!" I turned around and I did not recognize the voice's owner at all. "It's me, Jillian!" she said. "From St. Peters!" Oh. my. goodness. I remembered a little girl named Jillian from my childhood home in Missouri who had been my best friend when I was five years old. I couldn't believe she recognized me fourteen years later. I'm sure I made some kind of small talk, but I was more interested in being with my date, so I didn't talk to her for long.
The only thing I remember from the movie was a line Sean Connery delivered: "Writers only write to get laid." This line seemed so out-of-context for the scene and shocked me so much I gasped. Not a soft little gasp, mind you. It was probably more like a mild scream, like releasing the air from a balloon by pinching the neck. As soon as I did that I was embarrassed and hoped no one had noticed. Um, yeah, they noticed. The whole theater noticed. Movie patrons seated several rows in front of us and behind us all turned and looked at me. Good thing it was dark, because I was probably blushing scarlet red. J, D, Derek and I couldn't stop laughing for a long time. Best embarrassing moment ever.
As we were driving out of the theater parking lot, we passed a couple playing Tonsil Twister under an overhead light. It was Jillian! Wow, that girl was certainly fond of her date. I could tell.
We went to Village Inn after the movie. It was late enough that most restaurants were closing down, but not good ol' Village Inn. It was a chilly night (St. Patrick's day, as a matter o' fact!) and Derek ordered a hot chocolate. He offered me a sip, but I had a feeling Village Inn cocoa wouldn't be that good so I declined. He insisted, I said no again. He kept at it so I stopped being polite and flat out said I didn't think it would be very good and I didn't want any. That didn't deter him at all. Nope, he kept egging me on about that stupid hot chocolate. I finally told myself I'd drink the whole mug if it would get him to shut up, and I took the sip. And it wasn't very good. But he was on cloud nine that he finally had broken down my resolve and made me try the stuff. I should have known right then that this guy was trouble. To this day we still say "hot chocolate" when he's stubbornly pushing me to try something I'm stubbornly refusing to go along with. The second funny Village Inn incident was when he and J had a silent conversation I didn't notice as I ate whatever it was I ordered. He asked her how old I was, and she told him nineteen. Nineteen? He was 23 and he felt 19 was way too young for him. He said if he had known I was only 19 he wouldn't have ever asked me out. Oh well, it was too late at that point.
At the end of the night we were going to have ice cream sundaes at the green house, but by the time we were done with Village Inn it was really late and we decided to call it a night. I didn't get that ice cream he promised me for winning the dish-washing race (but I think he's made up for it by now). When he said goodnight to me on the porch of the green house, he pulled me into this big bear hug. Derek is 9 inches taller than me and twice as big, and he nearly swallowed me up in that bear hug. And I liked it. I really, really liked it. After that, I was in "deep smit" (a phrase my girlfriends and I created, meaning deeply smitten). That was my last first date, and it's been a great 12 years.
He said he never did movies for a first date, but what he and D had planned for the night had fallen through, so they decided to take us girls to a movie as a last-minute plan. We saw "Finding Forrester." I could tell you mind-numbing details about that date, but I'll just skip to the best parts. First, as we were sitting down in the theater, I heard an unfamiliar voice behind me say, "Amy!" I turned around and I did not recognize the voice's owner at all. "It's me, Jillian!" she said. "From St. Peters!" Oh. my. goodness. I remembered a little girl named Jillian from my childhood home in Missouri who had been my best friend when I was five years old. I couldn't believe she recognized me fourteen years later. I'm sure I made some kind of small talk, but I was more interested in being with my date, so I didn't talk to her for long.
The only thing I remember from the movie was a line Sean Connery delivered: "Writers only write to get laid." This line seemed so out-of-context for the scene and shocked me so much I gasped. Not a soft little gasp, mind you. It was probably more like a mild scream, like releasing the air from a balloon by pinching the neck. As soon as I did that I was embarrassed and hoped no one had noticed. Um, yeah, they noticed. The whole theater noticed. Movie patrons seated several rows in front of us and behind us all turned and looked at me. Good thing it was dark, because I was probably blushing scarlet red. J, D, Derek and I couldn't stop laughing for a long time. Best embarrassing moment ever.
As we were driving out of the theater parking lot, we passed a couple playing Tonsil Twister under an overhead light. It was Jillian! Wow, that girl was certainly fond of her date. I could tell.
We went to Village Inn after the movie. It was late enough that most restaurants were closing down, but not good ol' Village Inn. It was a chilly night (St. Patrick's day, as a matter o' fact!) and Derek ordered a hot chocolate. He offered me a sip, but I had a feeling Village Inn cocoa wouldn't be that good so I declined. He insisted, I said no again. He kept at it so I stopped being polite and flat out said I didn't think it would be very good and I didn't want any. That didn't deter him at all. Nope, he kept egging me on about that stupid hot chocolate. I finally told myself I'd drink the whole mug if it would get him to shut up, and I took the sip. And it wasn't very good. But he was on cloud nine that he finally had broken down my resolve and made me try the stuff. I should have known right then that this guy was trouble. To this day we still say "hot chocolate" when he's stubbornly pushing me to try something I'm stubbornly refusing to go along with. The second funny Village Inn incident was when he and J had a silent conversation I didn't notice as I ate whatever it was I ordered. He asked her how old I was, and she told him nineteen. Nineteen? He was 23 and he felt 19 was way too young for him. He said if he had known I was only 19 he wouldn't have ever asked me out. Oh well, it was too late at that point.
At the end of the night we were going to have ice cream sundaes at the green house, but by the time we were done with Village Inn it was really late and we decided to call it a night. I didn't get that ice cream he promised me for winning the dish-washing race (but I think he's made up for it by now). When he said goodnight to me on the porch of the green house, he pulled me into this big bear hug. Derek is 9 inches taller than me and twice as big, and he nearly swallowed me up in that bear hug. And I liked it. I really, really liked it. After that, I was in "deep smit" (a phrase my girlfriends and I created, meaning deeply smitten). That was my last first date, and it's been a great 12 years.
1 comment:
I LOVED this story, Amy- love love love. Deep Smit. Ha!
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