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!”


“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


“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.”


“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?

Super Tight…

Slow motion moments really do exist in real life. I thought they only occurred in the movies, but sometimes things slow down to give you an opportunity to completely savor the moment. This is exactly what happened when I met him, the super tight one.


I was with friends enjoying a perfect summer afternoon. I was walking along and his striking profile caught my eye. I made a mental note of it, saw boy with beautiful profile at 5:02 pm. I kept moving and didn’t miss a beat, but I was praying that I would see him again. My prayers were answered while waiting in line outside the ladies room. This is about the only time in life that I was happy to be stuck in the lady’s room line. He started walking over and this is when everything slowed down. I couldn’t really hear anything except my own breathing. He sauntered over, but in slow motion giving me ample time to get a good look at every inch of his physique. I imagine that time slowed only for me, so I am sure he saw my eyes sweep over his frame. If it were appropriate and one hundred years ago I would have swooned and fainted from the sheer pleasure and delight of it. He arrived and introduced himself. His Name. Let’s just stop right there for a second. He had the coolest name I’ve ever heard. It’s right next to Vin Diesel, which might actually be the coolest name ever. His name is a pretty close second. This is where the tightness commenced. From that moment forward I was absolutely captivated with everything this man did and said. His voice, his smile, his laugh, his presence, his words, just the sum total of it all just left me totally impressed. He was terrific. He went from tight to super tight in just three dates. It was in this state, while basking in the rays of his super tight glow, that the spell was broken.


We had just left the movies and he had delivered me safely to my car. I asked him to jump in so I could take him to his car, but he declined and started to walk away. I said “It will be fine let me take you.” Honestly, I just wanted to spend a few more moments with him.  I wasn’t getting through to him, so my tone changed a bit, a little more boy get your tail in this car and less sugar plum please get in the car. At this he reluctantly walked over to my car and got in. Hold on, Wait. Do you know how children act when you ask them to do something they have no desire to do? They mumble, hunch their shoulders over and drag their feet to whatever the chore or task. This would be exactly how he walked over to my car and got in. Once we pulled out of the space, I asked where he parked his car. He was very quiet, he leaned the seat back and sighed. I thought it was all very strange, but I wasn’t really concerned. I asked again and he just pointed in a general direction.


When we were closer to his car he offered to get out and walk, something about my being close to the exit and it was a straight shot. I waved him off and asked which way I needed to turn. This is when his hands went to his head and I thought maybe I went too far. He was holding his head in his hands, when he suddenly turned towards me. He had this anxious look in his eye and said “I am really embarrassed about my car and I don’t want you to laugh at it.” What? But before I could say anything the expression on his face told me that he was serious, dead serious about this car thing. I just kept quiet. Then he started telling me about all the sacrifices he had made in life in order to start his company and this was why he had the car. I just looked at him speechless and in shock. I promised him that I wouldn’t laugh and that I was not the least bit concerned about his car.


Now I will admit that if he didn’t have a car then I would have had a problem, but I have a car so I am not concerned. Plus, I didn’t want to distress him more since he was already visibly disturbed. When I saw the car I did want to laugh, but not at the car, I was thinking he had an old cutlass or some kind of contraption that was barely legal to drive. It was a late model Japanese import, it was small, compact and sensible, not the ugly gremlin I was expecting. After seeing his car, combined with his agitation I was so unimpressed. I didn’t know how to deal with a grown man who would be that embarrassed about his car. I really couldn’t understand all the concern. I am not in high school. You are going to have to have more than a car to impress me. Actually some of the nicest cars I’ve been in have carted around the blandest simpletons or the most obnoxious egomaniacs, so I don’t date guys based on their cars. I also couldn’t understand after getting to know me that he would think I would be so shallow or judgmental. It infuriated me. I am not deep, but I am definitely not shallow. I understand wanting the better things in life, but it takes time to acquire the finer things in life. However, trying to hide, apologize or providing an excuse for what you have is not the behavior of a real man. In my mind it points to low self-esteem, a lack of confidence and extreme superficiality. I just don’t understand how someone so in touch with the world around him, so intelligent, profoundly deep, and creative could be so caught up with his car. He has such potential, but is concerned about the wrong things.