The Grand Scheme

Bill was over Sunday night. We carved a pumpkin and drank tea. Monday night I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Feeling too lazy to get one from the cupboard I reached for my cup from the previous evening. As I grabbed the mug I realized that I didn't know whose was whose. I nearly broke down and opened the stupid cupboard when that little light bulb over my head turned in—we drink after each other frequently and have been known to even share soda, so, really, when it comes right down to it, does it matter who drank out of it last night?

Let me help you out with this one: no, no it doesn't.

Dress Code

The wife of a guy I occasionally ride the bus with (we're friendly, sometimes she picks him up from the bus stop and I get a lift ad well) invited me to go to their Diwali festival Saturday. I said sure, I mean, really? If you ever want to learn how a party is meant to be thrown go to an Indian festival, or wedding, or birthday party—they'll learn ya right.

Saturday morning she called to confirm. Then she uttered those dreaded words, the word every woman doesn't want to hear: "Do you have anything to wear?" um, what? I thought this was a party? I didn't realize formal wear was a requirement. She reassured me that I could wear whatever I wanted. Suddenly I was terrified that I was going to be horribly incorrectly dressed.

As it turns out, she was amazingly over dressed, and I was under dressed. Oh, and I was one of 4 non-Indians there.

Good times.

The Long Ride South

Well, after some convincing I think I have decided to do the Seattle to Portland ride in July. That means a lot of training between now and then—it's 2 days and 200 miles. Currently, that ride, for me, is unpossible. Ask me again in July.

Cyclist will train with me, but he already knows he can make that ride, so, what I need is someone who will do it with me.

Does It Count As Thoughtful

This morning someone posted two vinyl records on the internal for sale list. Turns out I wanted those LPs. I jokingly told Bill he should buy them for me. He wasn't so sure. "Oh?" he asked.

"Yeah," I egged, "for, ya know, Christmas. Or just because you love me."

We laughed, and then an hour later I sent a message to the seller asking her price. She told me to name my own, but I got busy and didn't reply straight away.

A couple hours later I went to reply to her but discovered that the records had been sold. A few emails down the list I discovered that Bill had accidentally replied to the entire list asking to buy them.

Then, I discovered, he had sent me an im telling me to go ahead and ignore all messages regarding those records.

So, while this puts a huge smile on my face, I pose the question to you: Is it really thoughtful if I told him to do it in the first place?

Not the Royal "We"

It had been a long week. A very long week. And Bill and I were walking to his place before heading out for the evening. Mid-stride he asked "So, what should we be for Halloween?"

I really wasn't sure how to answer that. On one hand, this could be the opportunity I vacillate between wanting and dreading, or, it could be nothing.

He interpreted my pause with nearly 100% accuracy. "I mean, 'we,' as individuals, not as 'we.' What should we each be for Halloween? What should you be, and what should I be?"

We never did get around to having that discussion, and I still don't know. Though, I did suggest that "we" go as a "we". Mostly to screw with our co-workers, but also because that would be kind of fun.

Shoulder Work

I gave Bill a henna on his shoulder a couple of weeks ago. It looked wicked-rad. Unfortunately, it didn't stain dark enough. So, we're going to have to have another go at it.

Oh, did I mention that he took his shirt off and laid on my couch so I could give it to him? Yeah... sexy sexy sexy topless boy on my couch. It was great!

So, giving him a second one is just going to be impossibly hard.

Awe, shucks.

Bravery

He's really, really cute. Well, 'cute' is the wrong word. "Ruggedly handsome" is far more correct of a description.

And, no, we're not talking about Bill here. We're talking about an amazingly attractive guy in my ward.

I've had a tiny crush on him for months.

Monday night I finally decided to just ask him out (ok, I decided a while ago, Monday just seemed like a good opportunity). We spent the majority of the activity time at FHE flirting in a cute and endearing manner. Afterwords, I decided to make my move. I was walking him to his car ready to ask, but someone else felt the need to come with us—gee, thanks.

So I called him up. "Hey, do you wanna do lunch sometime?" I asked.

Turns out lunch is a no-go for him, but, he suggested, "how about dinner, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday." I picked Wednesday. Great. We made plans and he said he'd call to confirm.

This afternoon he made that call. Unfortunately, it was to cancel. Seems his truck won't start and he has to fix it tonight in order to get to work tomorrow. He offered to reschedule and suggested Thursday or Friday night. Frustratingly, I had made plans last night to go visiting teaching on Thursday, and Bill and I are going to the symphony on Friday. I had to decline. I suggested Saturday, but he works. Why Saturday evening won't work is anyone's guess.

We signed off by saying that we'd see each other on Sunday. Great... now we have to try this again.

Oh, did I mention he's totally built, and amazingly good looking? Oh, yeah, and we've been flirting a ton for months now. I can't believe he hasn't asked me out yet. I hope he makes the next move. I hate asking boys out multiple times. It's just no fun.

Realizations

Sometimes the light turns on just a little bit late.

Sitting here, reading a web comic so lame that I refuse to post it, that light finally blinked on above my head.

The punchline was "Raiders of the Lost Ark".

I finally realized that they were raiding the lost ark.

I hang my head in shame.

So You Noticed

Bill dragged me jeans shopping with him this afternoon. With the mandate that we find jeans that make his backside look good. "So I get to openly oogle your butt?" I verified. Yup, that was the deal.

Off we went.

At one store he was in the changing room as I sat on the bench on the other side of the door waiting for him. He said something I couldn't understand so I asked, "huh?" while leaning forward toward the door to facilitate hearing him.

Rather than just repeating himself (as anticipated), Bill opened the dressing room door and told me what he had said. Then, as he closed the door he complimented me, "nice cleavage!"

"What?!" I asked slightly embarrassed.

"well, you were leaning forward and looking up at me!" he defended himself before adding, "And it was a nice view!"

Um, thanks?

Oh, and I verified once I got home—he didn't see too much, but what he saw was certainly nice.

Awkward Jokes

"I'll have a whole wheat bagel," I told the woman behind the counter.

"Ok," she said punching that into the register. "Are you two together?" she went on to ask, indicating Bill.

"No," he replied, "I'm not getting anything."

I answered her quizzical expression by informing her that "He's just here to look good." We all shared a chuckle and that was that.

Until the next time we went to the bagel shop and he, once again, got nothing. "He's just here to look good, again?" she asked me.

"Yup," I said, secretly mortified that my flippant comment had come back to haunt me.

This scenario has been repeated three times now, and each time I keep hoping it won't happen the next.