Friday, June 23, 2017

"America!" and Other Doorstep Tales

I don't know if everyone else is like this, but I was terrified for my first date.  A few minutes before my date was supposed to arrive I remember walking away from the front door telling my mom, "I think I'll just skip it.  I can't do it!" Which is so funny to me now (even then--I'm not usually freaked out like that).  But I totally was!

 Actually, I didn't expect to be scared at all---I had a fun group of friends, and many of them were guys, and we hung out often.  Also, because I have a July birthday, all of my friends had already been dating quite a while (in our church the youth don't begin dating until age 16) so I had been somewhat involved in that world already.  And my date and I were super good friends. So really, I had nothing to be afraid of.   I just hadn't been on an official *date.*

Anyway.  Skip ahead.  I think we did dinner and mini golf.  I wore an orange shirt.  The group went to his house after and I remember looking at his sister's dolls with her.  I'm sure I talked to my date too. That's about all I remember.  Until....


We get up there and stand for a minute.  What was I supposed to do?  I had heard enough jokes with punchlines of, "and then she shook my hand and went inside" so I knew that wasn't an option.  And I knew enough that kissing wasn't an option.  (Hahaha.  I don't think I had even fathomed that possibility before.)  But even a hug felt like a lot.  So, cute little Kaylie standing there, beginning to feel extremely awkward.  After what felt like an eternity, I looked up and saw the flag decoration on our front door from the 4th of July.  What went through my head next I have no idea.  Because the next second there I was, pointing at the flag, placing my hand to my chest, and exclaiming proudly, "America!"

AHHHHH!  YOU GUYYYYYS.  I can't even think about it without busting up laughing.

He was kind and followed suit, placing his hand on heart and agreeing, "America!  So there we were, two nice kids on the doorstep, respecting the stars and stripes at the end of the date.

Oh, the kind of entertainment we must have provided for our neighbors across the street!

After that weird little homage, I think I did give an awkward side hug and head inside.

Go Kaylie.

(I later had someone who told me "I love you"  to which I responded "thanks!" and went inside.  Yupppp. Go Kaylie go.)

Story #2.

Like I said before, I had a pretty fun group of friends.  Often we would go on dates together, just switching which guys were paired with which girls.  So it was a fun, familiar group.

I was on a date with another boy one night and I guess he had talked to the other guys in the car and decided to pretend to go in for a kiss.  I guess.  I don't know.  Boys are weird.

So anyway, back to the story.  We have to remember little Kaylie was not a kissing girl.  At all.

So when my nice friend started moving his face toward me I DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO.  What was I supposed to do?!????? Soooooo...I started flapping my arms like a bird.

You read it correctly.  I was flapping my little wings all the way up and down, kind of in a panicked fury.  I'm not the only person who has done this, right?  Not sure.

Bravo, seminary teachers, for teaching me to be so afraid of kissing.

Again, another great show for the neighbors across the street.  And, to my great relief, he never did get that doorstep kiss. After that, probably didn't want to, either.

I'm sad I don't have any laugh-out-loud stories for while I dated Derek.  We dated at the same time two of my other roommates had serious boyfriends, so it was always a balancing act of taking turns to say goodnight.  (Which once involved having marbles thrown at us from the other side of the door. hahahaha.)  But beyond that, things with Derek were somewhat normal.  By the time I met Derek, I was a perfectly classy, sophisticated girl and our doorstep scenes were nothing but elegant.

*Special thanks to my sister Leslie who has a mini golf date tonight which reminded me of these stories
** To the guys featured in these stories, if you read this, I probably owe you a candy bar.  Thanks for being good sports.

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