On thursday fate intervened…

The events that sealed my fate…

I receive a text from Mr. Mean. I am torn about whether or not I should reply. I tell myself I don’t like him so why lead him on.

My mother calls me on Thursday and says she’s  in the neighborhood and stopping by. I’ve noticed that she has started a texting/calling campaign for me to go to church with her on Thursday night (as if my attendance on Sunday is not enough), but I’ve declined or given her some excuse each time. It’s much easier to put a Mother off on the phone or by text…much harder to do it in person. So I end up going to church with her.

I walk into the lobby of the church and immediately see Mr. Mean. He smiles and walks over. I decide that he is smiling at my Mother since she is “squealing” his name. They exchange hello’s. Then my Mother introduces us. She winks at me and walks away.

Mr. Mean knows I got his text, but doesn’t mention it.

Mr. Mean formally asks me out on a date.

I say yes.

We are going out on Saturday.

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He texted me…

Okay so I was all hyperventilating and disturbed about Mr. Mean not calling me because I felt he was being all unfair again, but this time by not calling me. Even if it was rightfully so after I rejected him twice. All that didn’t matter. I had an all out stank mood and had convinced myself that somebody else had my number.

Oh but wait, I had all but given up on him ever calling me and then he texts me Thursday. Booooooooooo! On him for texting, but at least he reached out. Ah the relief it provided.

His Text

Hi Ursala, This is L______ from church. Your mama gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind me contacting you. How are you? 

Hmmm so I’ve been trying to determine what I should say or if I should say anything at all. Technically I just wanted him to still desire me and him reaching out (even if it wasn’t an actual phone call) lifted my spirits and I no longer feel rejected. However, since I was all out of sorts I feel like I should respond.

Waiting by the phone…

I’m having computer techincal issues today that will postpone posting. Sucks.

Okay here it is.

So of course all today I have been waiting for THE call from Mr. Mean. It’s like I’m 15 and waiting for some boy I have a crush on to call me. I’m all anxious and stuff. I know I know I should not be concerned. I mean didn’t he tell me off? Told me I complained about the lack of good men and told me I was mean. Please note that I do not complain about the lack of good men in my eyes good men are plentiful. But I DO complain about the situations, encounters, incidents and misunderstandings I have with men. I was offended when he called me mean. I felt like he was more than a little rough with me. He didn’t know me. I felt he was taking out his frustrations of being rejected by yet another woman on me. Plus he raised his voice at me. Oh and he embarrassed me in front of complete strangers while I was at church. All of this was a problem and is a problem. It is why I saw him and attempted to act like we had never met before. It is why I leaped over the lap of a teenage man child to keep from having to interact with him after the service let out. I have a problem with him. I do not like him.

Despite my disdain for him I must admit I have been waiting for his call. I didn’t expect him to call on Sunday, but I did expect him to call today, Monday.  I believe that it’s important for new suitors to establish their interest within 24 hours of getting the digits. It shows me they are serious, interested and not trying to be cute and coy. However, since I didn’t give him my number I don’t think this rule applies. I am not sure what rule applies. All I know is that I am actually getting upset that he hasn’t called. At first I knew exactly what I was going to say, but now since he hasn’t called and I am perplexed, I am not sure what I am going to say. Or if I will even have an opportunity. What if he doesn’t call? I don’t know if I am prepared for this type of rejection. I know I rejected him first, but I don’t want to be rejected.

Why do I even care? Especially since I don’t like him. Because I know that he likes me or is at least a little interested. It’s simple now that he doesn’t seem to want me it makes me desire him. Crazy! I know. Maybe our last encounter completely turned him off. Which on one hand is good, but on the other hand now I want to prove to him that I’m actually pretty swell. Now that he hasn’t called I’m wondering what’s up. Note to self: Tell Mother never to give my number out without my express permission.

What’s funny is that I have now convinced myself that some other pretty boy did indeed have on a similar suit, with a name oddly similar to Mr. Mean’s, met my mother, got my number and is not calling because they took my number out of pity from my Mother who probably was peddling her daughter off as some fantastical woman something akin to a sparkly, rainbow-hued unicorn. Meaning he didn’t believe her because we all know unicorns don’t exist. So it’s ok or this is what I’m telling myself. Serves me right for being ugly to him at church, of all places.

It’s Sunday…

and I went to church. That’s what I’ve been up to this summer on Sundays. I go to church. It makes my mother so happy. I generally meet up with her after the service. When she sees me she just beams, and when she sees someone she knows she always introduces me as her daughter followed up with a great big smile. It’s funny her apparent happiness propels me to church now even if I don’t want to go.  

What’s better is that I actually got to church on time. So I wasn’t relegated to the rafters. I am very content to sit in the rafters because there is a lot more space. When you are seated on the bottom (or I should say on the sanctuary floor) they don’t like to leave the customary seat between each person. It’s like the movies when it’s opening night for a block buster they pack you in and there is a body in every seat. When I arrived I was directed to a partially empty aisle and told to go all the way down to the end. I made my way down the aisle and put my bag in the seat next to a very large teenage boy man. He was taken up a good one third of the seat that I sat my bag in. Side caveat: He really was taking up way more space then he needed to. I know that guys need space for the banana and berries, but my word there should be limits to how wide they can sit. They should square up with their shoulders or something there’s got to be a consistent way to bring order to the ridiculousness. Before I could sit down, an usher that I didn’t see quickly came over and asked me to move down a seat and hold my bag in my lap. Dang! He caught me. I picked my bag up and moved over as best I could into two thirds of my seat. I situated my bag in my lap and when I look up who do I see walking down the aisle? None other than Mr. Mean.

This is actually funny because I go to a rather large church, it is considered a mega church by some standards. While my church is large, it’s obviously not large enough to keep me from running into Mr. Mean again. I thought maybe he doesn’t recognize me so I immediately turned back to the pulpit. When he sat down he leaned over and said “I guess the Lord decided that our paths should cross again.” To my chagrin he remembered me. I didn’t respond I kept my eyes straight ahead. Then he said “I guess we are on the same schedule.” Again I didn’t respond. He leaned back over “You look very nice today.” To this I nodded (I know how to take a compliment), but kept my eyes straight ahead. Then he said “I’m still holding a brunch rain check just for you. What are you doing after church?” I leaned over and said “Thank you, but I won’t be using that rain check today or any other day.” I was actually expecting something harsh from him, but he said “I apologize. I hope you aren’t holding what I said before against me.” My response to this was a “ShhhHhhHhhhHhhhhush!” I then turned away from him, crossed my legs and attempted to find a space for my foot between the large leg of the teenage man and the seats in front of us. Despite my unreceptive body language, he was not the least bit concerned because he whispered in my ear “You need to forgive me so we can move on.” I inched closer to the teenage man, which caused him to turn and look at me. I just smiled and nestled myself behind his large arm and our shared portion of my seat.

Mr. Mean continued whispering every once and a while throughout the sermon things such as, “Your hair smells good, your shoes are pretty, I see you got a tan it looks nice, You should let me take you out I promise you’ll have fun.” I kept my back to him the whole service. As soon as the service was over, I leaped across the teenage man to get out of the aisle and bolted towards the exit. I looked back a few times, but didn’t see him. So I was safe.

I met up with my mom at our designated spot. She ran into a co-worker and of course introduced me. My Mother has the gift of loquaciousness so I politely excused myself and went to my car. As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot my mother called me.

“Hey Mama.”

“Are you still in the lobby?”

“No, I just pulled out of the parking lot. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I just met the nicest man.”

“Lucky You. Just what you’ve been praying for.”

“Not for me. For You!”

Then I hear her telling someone to talk to me.

“Hey Ursala!”

“Hello?!?”

“We give you our blessing. I know him. He is very nice, comes from a good family, no kids, never been married and he has a great job.”

Then I hear my mother asking for her cell back

“Mama?”

“Ursala, he’s cute, not like you like them, he’s a pretty boy.”

“You’re funny Mother.”

“I’m just telling you that he is nice looking.”

“Ok.”

“I gave him your number.”

“What?!? Mother!!! No!”

“Yes, he’s a good guy, comes to church, looks nice, comes from a wonderful family. He was so nice he gave us a ride to my car. You should thank me.”

“Wait, you got in a car with a stranger. You can’t do that.”

“He isn’t a stranger, Mrs. B_____ knows his mother. And he goes to church”

“Just because he goes to church doesn’t mean anything. He is a stranger to you. And you gave my number to this strange man. A man you don’t know.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I know you’ll like him.”

My Mother has discerning taste, but she has never given my number to anyone so I’m a little concerned about her experimental match making.

“It doesn’t matter considering you’ve already given him my number. What if he starts calling me all the time?”

“Don’t answer your phone then.” I can tell she is exasperated with me, but I’m equally exasperated with her for giving my number to some strange man just because she met him at church.

“Mother you know I can’t do that I have to answer all calls to my cell right now. Well what did he look like?” I decided to be nice and not work my Mother’s nerves since I know she meant well.

“I told you already he’s a pretty boy.” I can tell I’m already working a nerve because I’m clearly not paying attention since I asked a question she has already answered.

“Could you be a little bit more specific? And what’s his name?”

“His name is L_____.”

“Wait did he have on a brown suit and a purply-lavenderish shirt?”

“Yes, he looked so nice.”

“NoOoooOoooo Mother you didn’t give that man my number.” Oh no my Mother gave my number to Mr. Mean. “Please tell me you are just playing or you meant to say you got his number for me.”

“He has your number and he is going to call you.” Click. My Mother almost never says bye when she is done talking she just hangs up.

I hoped there was some other pretty boy, in a brown suit, with the same name as Mr. Mean at church. I highly doubt it. I can’t believe my mother gave my number to Mr. Mean. The question is did he know it was my Mother or did she just pimp me out?