I, can't help, myself-

I went to a youth dance Saturday night. Don't judge me.

I was just going to drop off my little brother Christian. He got out of work at McD's a little too late to ride with everyone else. Power to you bro. Anyhow, I dropped him off in jeans because I figured I could keep away if I dressed inappropriately. Apparently it had no effect. I was lured in by Belinda, a great friend, and instead of leaving 10 minutes later, I left after the last song. Yes, you got it. I stayed the entire dance duration. I'm so weird. I did dance with the other leaders and felt ultra cool. My kids would be so proud.

There was one incident. It reminded me of the time Danny Beard asked a leader to dance at a YC dance. A tall young buck came up to me on the sidelines and asked how old I was. I said, "25." At which time he promptly averted his eyes from mine and his abrupt about-face twirled my toupee as he walked off in embarrassment. Oops. It's so not allowed for leaders to dance with the youth, but I felt really bad for him and would have totally danced with him if it had been allowed. Oh well.

On a side note, I would like to add a couple weird things about myself. You may or may not know these things about me.

1. I made fun of Nick for folding underwear, but I realize I too have a sorting process I cannot skip. I align and stack my underwear. I did laundry yesterday, that's when I noticed it. I tried wadding all the undies together and tossing them into the drawer but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

2. My car is pretty spotless. We had an improv night at FHE tonight and the only things in my car were oil, windshield wiper fluid, a lizard stuffed animal, and a blanket. Those were all in my trunk. I only had sunglasses in my actual car. That's kind of strange I realized.

3. I cannot handle hair on people or obvious little specks on them. I'm like the lady on Runaway Bride..but not quite that bad. Ask my freshmen girls about that. I picked a hair off this lady at a missionary farewell and it was attached. Oops. Or you can ask my previous boyfriends. I'm a freak about it.

4. Flossing is terribly important to me. Although I haven't had the best luck finding boys who share my passion for healthy teeth, it's a big deal to me.

5. I'm boy crazy. I've always been boy crazy. I always thought I'd grow out of it. I'm still waiting for that day to come. Shouldn't it be here already? I'm 25. Throw me a friggin bone here.

6. Physical contact. I go wiggidy wack about that stuff. Hold my hand and we're practically soul mates. In fact, in honor of this post, I think I'll post my first kiss story at the bottom of this blog. Feel free to skip it if you've heard or read it before. It's pretty long.

7. I am seriously concerned about my lack of commitment in relationships. Any time some great guy comes along to sweep me off my feet, I bolt. It's such a helpless feeling to see the bolting coming on and being powerless to stop it.

8. Hair. Ask anyone I know. I love discussing hair. Especially my own. It's a grand thing that can change whenever you like. This probably illustrates something huge about me, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

9. I'm a sugar addict. I know, some people like sugar. However, I like sugar so much sometimes I'll eat 5 donuts in one sitting. That's not new for me. I do feel like crap after. Always. So I'm trying to be better about the sugar binges.

10. I won't eat after my nightly floss and brush. I rarely break this rule, maybe twice a year. My friends can vouch for that one. There's always someone trying to get me to bend from my hard stand against after brush food intake. I sometimes do it for holidays, special occasions, or to support one of those sugar binges I was talking about previously. No small event will bend my resolve. Brushing again is a hassle. I know, not that big a hassle, but a hassle nevertheless.

I'm only going to ten, though I know I could list many more. Here's that first kiss story, straight out of my book, so like I said, if you've already read it, don't feel obligated to read it.

First Kiss

There comes a time when kissing needs to happen. It cannot happen with a weird boy, it has to be with someone super or it is not worth the effort. Somehow, with copious amounts of strange mixed into my dating pool, I managed to avoid this intimacy until age 21.

When guys wanted to go for it, they could not get a hold of me; return calls were not made and my life got hectic. My attitude transformed from nervousness to complete lack of interest. Kissing was sick, and would be avoided at all costs forever.

Since my family did not regard this as a healthy attitude, they encouraged me to get that first kiss out of the way and overcome my nervous apathy. At this point in my life I met Neville. He was interesting to talk to and we got along, but I was nervous about his dental hygiene and could not come to terms with the danger his teeth were in.

Still, when everyone else had already dipped their head in that barrel, running to catch up felt right. All my relatives thought it was a good idea. They urged me along in the barrel contest as though their lives depended on it. Along with this support, coworkers also heartened me. Their encouragement was helpful, and slid me to the next step.

One day, in a fit of enthusiasm, I proclaimed my first kiss would occur on Thursday. Any day would not do. It had to be planned or would never happen. A spontaneous person on the outside, my planner is meticulously filled as soon as plans are proposed. The day everyone heard Thursday was my scheduled first kiss was the same day it was written into my planner and became definite.

Although Neville never waved to me on campus or called besides the weekend, my first kiss was planned for him. Even though he told me he had always wanted to end up with a blonde, he was deemed worthy for these lips. Besides the fact he was madly in love with a certain blonde we both knew, his friendship with her was not important or significant to our current relationship.

He told me numerous times if she would agree to dating him he would drop anyone else immediately. Their friendship made me nervous, but we were not really dating, so it did not matter. He took her out more often than he saw me. Come on Merilee, that was clue number one.

Clue two, she was on his water polo team. Neville invited me to his intramural water polo games and I went sometimes. That Thursday I went with a plan. As a side note, my friend recently pointed out the strange feelings associated with watching sparsely dressed people while you are completely dressed.

His body suited up in shorts was not the best image I have ever seen. His dark leg hair gripping his pasty legs with wet panic was the first sight my eyes set upon at the games. Next his glorious fan of chest hair carefully placed. The back hair was not bad and compared to his spike on a slightly balding head was looking quite groomed.

It seemed almost indecent for me to watch him along with two teams of half dressed pasty people. The conundrum is where else to look. Attending this event often includes a group of people also inclined to stare down at the sparsely clad ones. Carefully watching the oversized ball they use to play the game is the main secret. A student of acute observation, it was the safest eye route available.

After the contest of skill had ended, Neville talked with others, scarcely noticing me at his side. It might have been his state of dress, or he could have felt anxious because of their recent loss. He might have been compensating by ignoring me completely. Either way, Neville was rapidly dropping in champion points. Even though my roommate had presented me with lip numbing lip gloss before I left the apartment, the man did not deserve the wonderful service planned for him later that evening.

Pushing such thoughts out of my mind was simple and characteristic and I did it. Life was good. It was spring and every tree across campus was in full bloom. The warm breath of summer was beginning to blow. This was the perfect night to educate my virgin lips.

As we walked along, remembrance filled my heart with dread. Everyone I knew was expecting an exciting romantic update tomorrow and the event might not happen. Steeling for the announcement, the mouth opened, body tensed. It was scary, but a declaration was made. I was going to kiss him tonight.

His answer was surprised and bemused. When the words had left my lips, answers poured from his. The first was a statement claiming nobody had ever said that to him before. The second was a fervent, hearty acceptance of the declaration and an overwhelming agreement to help in any way he could.

Walking along, we also discussed our future relation plans. Since school was over for him in two weeks he was moving to Oregon. I was traveling to New Mexico two months later and it was agreed we would break up in two weeks. Oh well, an icebreaker and some practice for later. It was necessary sometime, so it was happening tonight.

As we headed for wooded areas by campus, nervous feelings began multiplying like rabbits. Heading down a secluded path, my heart racing to beat any metronome, ease was not coming along. Neville tried leaning in a couple times, but my walk became brisk. Under a certain flowering cherry tree, along a certain path next to campus, my legs stopped and as my eyes fluttered to the tree, Neville reached over to pull me close.

With terrified realization, my arms fought back and pushed away from his chest. Using his hand to guide my face to his, distance was narrowing. Calling out in desperation my consternation and unwillingness to compromise my lips, his hand guiding ever closer with confident force my face to his, I could not do it.

Tearing my face away from his grip, pitiful sadness fell over me. Realizing it was not going to happen in that moment, Neville angrily stalked away from me. Following the way of a penitent puppy, my legs scurried after his. I apologized with vehement distaste for my personal weakness, but it was not enough to clear the air.

Sitting side by side was the only thing left to do. On a bench, secluded from every person on earth, panic again took hold of my heart. Neville’s calming tactics were working slightly and my brain, rewiring itself for the current crisis, was having limited success. When the panic had almost receded from my face, Neville repositioned himself directly in front of my rigid figure. Slowly, but surely he was redirecting my thoughts with carefully planned conversation away from the pivotal reason for our current surroundings and placement.

Neville leaned in, my face tipped to the side, and he let me go in for a hug. Next time we went in, he let me hug him again. The third time Neville switched face positioning and came at me. Dodging this way and that, my lips almost missed catastrophe.

At the last second, like the champion he was, Neville caught the right side of my mouth with his. Slipping in some tongue as though he was licking his top lip, my reaction was golden. I turned to the path and looked straight ahead. Terrible as the first kiss was, my frustration was aimed toward the guilt unfolding inside me. Guilt for kissing anyone at all and panic was flowing resolutely onto the grass.

The next phrase to escape Neville’s lips was, “Will you spend the night with me Saturday?” My first reaction being, heck no; the second reaction began when I realized his intention of hanging out, nothing inappropriate involved, and relief flooded through me. I had waited too long to kiss a body.

Luckily I had an old pro to help me along. Neville realized after the first kiss, if he was ever going to get any more kisses, he would have to go in for them quickly. The door was swift and silently closing after the first kiss and he needed to slip his foot in to keep it from dead bolt status. He propped the door by going in for another kiss every five minutes.

With my current stress levels, confidence in his wisdom was dwindling. Every time he went in for a kiss, my urge to dodge became stronger and the battle came into full swing. Never knowing whether Neville was going to make me kiss him or let me hug him, my mind was hoping for another hug and dreading the prescribed lip locks.

When we finally left the bench, my relief was strong. On the walk back, Neville even took the liberty of picking me up and after a struggle told me he would not put me down until after another kiss. Bestowed diffidently, this kiss was begrudging.

On another stop along the way, for another stolen kiss, with people watching right there, Neville piqued their jealousy. After the long walk home, we stopped at my door, he leaned in for another lip flick. Reassured my Saturday night was with him, he left. Inside the apartment, my mind blew itself into a black hole. Thinking of nothing, my mind closed off and I completed my nightly routine as usual. Due to my late appointment, none of my roommates were awake.

The next day was spent on the phone; with more calls than if my engagement had been announced the night before. Even though the story was told to everyone at work and school, my mind was still shivering under the stress and anticipation of Saturday night. Hopefully it would get better, but horror if it did not.

Saturday afternoon occurred and my mind was agape. Neville called me on the phone and he sounded stressed. Imagination is only a blessing at certain times. This was not one of those times.

His panic was mirrored inside me and my mind reflected back the reasons he might be nervous to talk with me. The only reason I can remember thinking for his panic was a proposal of marriage. Granted, it does not happen in sane world circumstances, but he was weird. He had slipped in tongue on my first kiss ever. He could be contemplating marriage to me.

Divine as my attributes are, I could not imagine why he would not ask me. My insides were churning with nervous sickness and he needed to talk to me before our date that night, so he was coming over. What he had to say he didn’t want to tell me on the phone.

He came over and my guts trembled with the horrible anticipation of telling the first marriage proposal of my life no. There was no way to let him down easy. I would have to be nice but firm. When he sat down on my couch and told me he could not date me, every tense muscle in my body released. After the initial relief following his statement, my questions began. It was the least he could do to answer my questions.

Why could he not date me? He could not date me because he was dating someone else. Who was he dating now? The blonde friend he had been crushing on for so long. When had that happened? They had kissed Friday and spent the day together. Although my joy was full for him and his happiness, I could not help thinking it was convenient he had realized this after Thursday when we had kissed.

Then my remembrance was brought to speed with the terrible nature of kissing and there was much rejoicing. We played a game of cards and he left. They broke up the next night because blondie decided she did not want to date him after all. I saw him Monday and never again.

I know, I'm a weirdo. It shouldn't have been so traumatic etc. I've also realized, reading over the first half, I wrote this story with a weird writing style that bothers me. I will have to go back and rewrite it.