I was working for the local library system and volunteering with CareBearers. The library had just undergone a change in management and the new director wanted to treat the library patrons more like customers. All the pages were moved behind the front desk and we even had a big meeting where we decided what we wanted the library’s new logo to look like.
Meanwhile, at church, the leaders had decided to have a bi-stake young singles activity wherein we all stayed up late studying the Book of Mormon. The last time we had done this, we had actually studied the Book of Mormon all the way through until dawn. However, there had been some complaints because people had some difficulty getting up for church the next Sunday. So, this year, the leaders had decided that we would stay up until around ten, then go home to bed and come back at seven the following morning and study more until we finished the book. As for the bi-stake part, they invited the young adult branch from Ellensburg.
We met on Friday evening in October at the church building where we usually met on Sundays. My mother dropped me off to the activity since she had an errand she had to run. I was wearing some of my most comfortable clothing, which consisted mainly of a pair of old jeans, a tee-shirt, an old plaid jacket, and my extra-long, burgundy scarf (really, the thing is twice as long as a normal scarf). I, of course, had brought my scriptures along. When I arrived, most of everyone coming was already there.
Standing up against the wall, looking lost or bored, I’m not sure which, was a handsome-looking young man with dark blond or light brown hair and a Van Dyke style beard. He was wearing a green tee-shirt, blue jeans and a blue and red windbreaker. My first impression of him was that he needed a friend, so I walked right up and introduced myself. He told me his name and we fell into a conversation in which I was
probably a bit too aggressive.
I sat next to him during the entire activity. Around dinner time, someone brought Kentucky Fried Chicken and while we were eating, some girl I didn’t know walked over and took a picture of us. Well, technically, she took a picture of the young man I was sitting next to, but, I was in the shot, too, so it was a picture of us.
I should mention that I later learned that the person who took my seatmate’s picture most likely had designs on him. She had brought him home and introduced him to her mother and everything.
Meanwhile, the young man in question thought that I was rather dowdy and that I was flirting with him, which, to be honest, without knowing it, I probably was. He attempted to put distance between us by tickling me. It didn’t work because my Dad used to tickle me frequently when I was a child, so I liked being tickled.
Later that month, the branch in Ellensburg held a Halloween dance. Everyone came in costume. After a good deal of research, I had made myself an arisaid in the Bruce colors, which I’m entitled to wear since I’m a direct relative of Robert the Bruce, through his sister, (ironically named) Julianna. An arisaid is the traditional form of women’s dress in Scotland from before the invasion of the English. I still have the arisaid I made. It’s folded in the bottom of my dresser. Anyway, I wore it to the dance and I saw that same young man there. He had what looked like some kind of black paint all over his face and he thought I was wearing my pajamas. He avoided me the entire rest of the dance, as if I was contagious or something.
Can you guess who that young man was?
Question Time: Did you ever make a poor first impression on someone you later ended up liking? What was the first Halloween costume your significant other wore? Do you like to be tickled? Why or why not?