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I’m very glad to have been given a chance to share my awkward story – there are not often appropriate vehicles for awkward stories, y’know.
This story begins in North Carolina. Greensboro is not what I’d call a vacation hotspot, but it’s where I went to school and it’s where many of my beloved college buddies still reside. I periodically take a week or two during the year to visit – and by “visit,” I mean generally mooch off my friends and sleep on their couches, while spending time catching up with folks in a rapid-fire succession of coffeeshop meetings, lunch dates, and general shenanigans.
I was so thrilled when Liz asked me if I wanted to go contra dancing. I learned to contra dance during college, and I’ve become deeply passionate about it over the years. I’ve been getting tired of annoying all my friends up north with my constant invitations to go dancing, so it was really exciting to be invited by someone else for a change!
It promised to be a great night. While Greensboro isn’t much for vacations, it’s got some great thrift stores – we found me an awesome skirt as well as a pair of pumas. I borrowed a top from Liz and BAM! We’d concocted a snazzy contra outfit! Now I was super-pumped.
Feeling great about life, we sallied forth. The beginner-to-expert ratio was very low, which is the best combination – you always want to be bringing new people to experience contra dance, but it’s best if it’s expert-heavy. That way, the beginners learn quickly, and the experts don’t get bored of dancing only with beginners the whole dance. I ran into a lot of old acquaintances, danced my way through a series of wonderful partners, and sang along to the live music. It was all over too quickly.
I was approached by a man who held out his hand, and invited me to join him for the final waltz. I obliged – it’s rare that I don’t oblige, unless I already have a partner. Waltzing is slower, more laid-back than the frenzied fun of contra. You have time to talk with your partner for awhile. To be sure, I enjoyed this man’s company, and I accepted his business card when he offered it to me at the end of the waltz – but I had pegged him as maybe mid-thirties.
People have a hard time guessing my age. I apparently have not aged physically since turning 21, according to most of the guesses. Sometimes, though, especially after a conversation, they guess on the older side. So I didn’t necessarily think that he was trying to rob the cradle. But I also wasn’t necessarily sure that he was actually looking for anything romantic – maybe he just wanted to talk.
Which was probably my first mistake, and my first step towards awkward.
I tried to figure it out. I’m not too shabby of an internet researcher (aka stalker), so I looked and looked… Facebook. Myspace. Google. Youtube. Anything.
Nothing!
Well, says I, what could be wrong with a little networking? So we played tag for awhile until we finally both had a window open.
But guess what? By this point, my researching had paid off.
17. Years. Older. Than. Me.
Which is not a problem, really – I relate well with folks of all ages – but it’s quite a different story when you suspect that the other party is interested in more than just a friendly chat. There’s this feeling in your gut that says, gee, this is a mess and I don’t really want to talk to this guy anymore, but I’ve been saying that I do, and, wow, I don’t know how to get out of this huge awkward mess and oh, crap.
Well, the call came in. And I was sitting at home, by myself, not doing anything. I stared at the phone, hesitating, and then I decided I’d better just bite the bullet. Maybe tell him that I didn’t really want to talk.
Only, when I picked up, we just started talking. There was no confession from me that I didn’t want to talk. There was no resistance. It just kept getting worse and worse, and the knots in my stomach kept doubling and doubling.
I’d had people pull the plug on me before. People who had enthusiastically traded e-mails with me, contacted me, and then all of a sudden stopped returning them. It stunk at first, but after a couple weeks I’d forgotten all about it. No big deal. So I could have walked away at any given time from this increasingly awkward conversation – and for whatever reason, I didn’t know how!
I don’t know if you’re a believing sort of person, reader-person, but I really believe that God stepped in to stop this awkward downward spiral. I’ve never had a connectivity issue in my house, ever. I get great reception, there’s always at least two bars.
Mid-conversation, the service just dies. Dies! The phone is suddenly “SEARCHING FOR SVC” after 10 minutes of crystal-clear conversation. I try calling. I try texting. Nothing works. I sit quietly, approximately 10% disappointed and 90% immensely relieved. And I get this sense of God trying to communicate a very important message: “I’ve given you what’s colloquially known as an ‘out.’ USE IT!”
I sent my admirer an apologetic e-mail for the loss of service with no distinct promise of a return call.
Two seconds later, my phone has service again.
I mean… maybe you think it’s petty and small-minded to think that God would bother to step in and solve my personal problems. If that’s you, I really have no rebuttal. Perhaps it is petty and small-minded of me. Or maybe I live on faith that God knows me, loves me, and protects me. Regardless, I was absolutely saved from my own awkward situation, and I’m grateful!
