Our Story, Part Six

Nathaniel has all our wedding pics on his computer, so this is a picture of us from Summer's baby blessing. It's the closest thing we have to a family picture.


It was late. Nathaniel and I had spent a couple of hours together that day, but I wanted more time. I was conflicted. I liked him. We had been spending more and more time together and it just kept getting better. Nathaniel was fun. And smart. And attractive. And best of all, he was genuine. He had nothing to hide.

I'm reminded of his reaction when I introduced him to Silk Chocolate Soymilk. He took one look at the carton and said he couldn’t imagine buying it. Referring to the plug on the carton for alternative energy solutions, he asked, “Do we really want windmills everywhere?”

I guess I loved that he disagreed with me.

At the same time, I kept dating other guys. I didn’t know when I would feel comfortable getting into a relationship, but exclusivity four months after I broke off an engagement seemed wrong. Plus, as I said before, dating other guys was fun.

I could tell, though, that my reluctance was now more about what others thought than my desire to spend time with other guys. The more time I spent with them, the better Nathaniel looked.

I realize that all this talk about exclusivity sounds sort of silly, like something from the Sweet Valley Twins series about “going steady.” But it was so important to me to make sure that I didn’t make yet another mistake in yet another relationship. My disastrous engagement had truly broken my heart and I just didn’t think that I had the wherewithal to handle something like that again. I was so sure that I had found the man of my dreams. And I was so wrong.

Nathaniel was an amazing person. Perhaps amazing enough to risk another broken heart. But so soon? Probably not.

I stared at myself in the mirror, brushing my teeth to get ready for bed. Only I didn’t want to go to bed. I wanted just a little more time with him. That wasn’t so bad, right? But I also didn’t want to look too forward. Besides making myself look like an overenthusiastic fool, asking him to get out of bed so we could hang out might be leading him on should I back out later. I put my toothbrush back in its holder.

"Oh, who cares?” I muttered to myself. I pulled out my phone and texted:

“Do you want a back rub?”

After a few very long seconds passed, he texted back.

“No. Do you?”

I offered him a freaking backrub and he said no? He clearly didn’t want to hang out. I replied:

“Yes.”

I waited. He didn’t text back. He thought I was too forward. Too needy. Didn’t have a life of my own so I had to leech from his. Oh well, it was probably for the best, anyway.

“K. Come to my apt.”

Oh, thank goodness.

I put my flip flops back on and walked out the front door, being careful to shut it softly behind me. I didn’t let myself think as I walked over to his place. I just let my feet carry me to Apartment 206. And before I let myself think again, we were on campus by the testing center, laying on some blankets in the dark, talking.

“I have a song that reminds me of you and I want to play it for you,” Nathaniel said.

“Let’s hear it!” Inside, I was completely giddy. I loved romantic songs. They say everything you don’t have the guts to say yourself. What did Nathaniel want to say to me?

It started:

Jamie, what you doing now?
What you doing now girl?
Please, please tell me
Cause I need to know, I need to know now.

“That’s not the part that reminds me of you,” Nathaniel said rapidly and then resumed singing at the top of his lungs.

When I was down, you came to me
And promised you'd always be
By my side, now you're gone
And I'm waiting patiently
Jamie, I want you to know
Jamie, oh Jamie, I'm so glad you're mine
We'll be together a long time

“It’s not that part either.”

You are the most, you're so rad, you're so fresh
And I'm so glad I am yours, you are mine
Show me where and I will sign
When I was down, you came to me.

“It’s coming, I promise.”

Jamie, believe me, I won't let you down
Cause you are the best lawyer in town.

“That’s the part!”

Incredulous, I asked, “That’s what reminded you of me?”

“Yep. That’s it.”

So, that was Nathaniel’s romantic song dedication. I was so let down.

We looked at the two stars that could be seen through the branches and talked in Romanian and Russian, figuring out what words are the same in the two languages. I didn’t care what we talked about, as long as I was with him. Suddenly, Nathaniel paused and said, “I kind of want to kiss you.”

Kissing = exclusivity. I was not ready.

“Well, we don’t always get everything we want.”

The minute I said those words, I regretted them. It was at that moment that I really wanted him to kiss me. I didn’t let myself think about what kissing would mean, I just wanted it to happen. I hoped he wouldn’t pack up the blankets and head back to the Elms. I hoped I’d get a second chance.

Nathaniel resumed chatting. At some point, he mentioned he wished he played guitar.

“Really? Why?”

“Because girls like it.” Wow. Talk about honesty.

I thought for a minute and said, “Okay, here’s my take on it. Sure, it’s cool if a guy can play the guitar. So if a guy plays the guitar, that’s plus, say, two points. But if a guy is genuine and is just himself, that’s, like, plus twenty points. I’d much rather a guy who’s not the guitar-playing type just avoid the guitar than try to impress me with it.”

The whole time I was saying this, I pictured Nathaniel strumming a guitar in the hope of winning a girl over. That image still makes me smile.

“So do you think I’m genuine?”

“Totally.” I had to be honest.

“Sweet.”

We talked some more. Somehow, we wound up kissing. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, only that it fit in so perfectly, almost as though it was part of the conversation. And the kiss? It was great.

Do you really want details? I didn’t think so.

As we walked back down to the Elms, something about the harshness of the lights in the stairwell made me realize how dumb I had been. I wasn’t totally sure I wanted to be in a relationship, and I just kissed Nathaniel multiple times. So much for self control. I am not a nail biter, but I bit my nails constantly to make sure that Nathaniel couldn’t grab my hand. Hand holding in public would mean real exclusivity.

The next day, we went to Centerville to go to a friend’s birthday party. After we parked, Nathaniel confidently grabbed my hand.

“Your hand feels so good in mine,” he said. I just smiled as we walked toward the party, holding hands. We were together. And I was okay with that.

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Finally, Part 5

By the way, I got this idea from the Pioneer Woman. You should check her out. She has some awesome recipes, too. Some amazingly unhealthy ones too, but mostly awesome.

I lay on the floor, hoping that I wiped away the tear before Nathaniel saw it.

I did like Nathaniel just a little more after I heard that story. So yes, as much as I hate to admit it, I can add to the arsenal of anecdotal evidence that girls like a guy who can be just a little bit bad. Or at least participate in borderline inappropriate behavior.

After the date, when we arrived at the Elms, Nathaniel parked his car and turned off the engine. Neither of us moved to exit, instead continuing our easy chatter. When there was finally a lull in the conversation, Nathaniel said, “I’m not tired.”

“Me neither,” I replied.

“We should do something.”

It made me just a bit giddy that he didn’t want the night to be over, either. “Hot tubbing?” I asked.

“Yes!”

And so we went.

When people ask when I first started to really like Nathaniel, I say it was when I first saw him take his shirt off.

As we sat in the bubbly warm water, we discussed some political hot topic about which we completely disagreed. Eventually, Nathaniel said, “That’s okay. I’ll win you over anyway.”

I think I might have blushed. I couldn’t believe how giddy this guy could make me.

The next day, I woke up thinking of our amazing time together. I wondered if he was at work. I was itching to see him again, and almost went over to his apartment, when I remembered something: I just broke off my engagement four months ago. I just freaked out over the fact that my ex was dating someone else. I had issues.

I could not get into a relationship.

I didn’t think that hanging out with Nathaniel was off limits. And the occasional date was fine. But exclusivity—that I was not prepared for.

So instead of going over to Nathaniel’s apartment, I finished up some work for my externship and thought about how to branch out. I needed to hang out with other guys. I would just get myself sorta attached to several, so there was no way I could get too attached to Nathaniel!

Yeah, I was dumb. Well, I kinda still am.

Anyway, I kept dating other people. The guys I dated were, and in fact, are, amazing people. Truly. But when they asked me out for a third or fourth date, the rational part of me triumphed over the part of me that wanted to see where things would go. As much as I hated rejecting guys, I knew I needed more time unattached. Time to figure out who I was, what I wanted, and where my life was going. And I was enjoying every minute of it.

But when Nathaniel asked me out the third time, the rational part of my brain shut down completely. I just couldn’t turn him down. But, we hadn’t kissed or held hands yet, so there was really no relationship. Right?

Our third date was awesome because it was our first date with just the two of us. I’ve decided that group dates are best when you’re not that into your date. But when you actually like your date and want to spend time with him, I’m honestly just not in the mood to make conversation with other people.

We got Thai from Thai Ruby. I loved that Nathaniel didn’t bat an eye when I was overenthusiastic about certain dishes and ordered for him. I also loved it that he laughed along with me when the waitress “complemented” my hair my saying it looked like a party on my head. And I loved that he didn’t feel pressure to do any fancy date things. We went to a friend’s art show and then to Rock Canyon Park with some blankets to look at the stars. Cliché, I know. But I didn’t care. I just couldn’t get enough of this guy.

We lay about two feet apart, on our stomachs, chatting about the stars. I was to the point that I really wanted to cuddle with him, but of course I didn’t have the guts to make a move. I was elated when I felt Nathaniel’s hand on my upper arm and I immediately scooted over so he could hug me more. Don’t you love that feeling? When every spot where your bodies touch tingles with excitement, but it’s so innocent because it’s just cuddling? I thought it showed a lot of confidence on Nathaniel’s part that he just went for it like that.

By the end of the night, I wasn’t so sure I could reject him. Ever. Maybe I’d just have to risk him rejecting me, after all. And we’d only known each other for three weeks.

Much later, when we were engaged, I found out that Nathaniel’s “I’ll win you over” statement in the hot tub wasn’t referring to winning me over romantically, as I assumed, but instead winning me over to his way of thinking. And when he reached over to cuddle me? He was just trying to tickle me. Lame.

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Our Story, Part 4

Our next date was tennis. But it was such a bad experience, and it was on a weekday, so I really don’t consider it a date. I had taken a beginning tennis class a year earlier, but I was terrible. The ball never went where it was supposed to go, even when I tossed the ball up myself. I never, in the entire semester, hit a backhand in the correct square. The bigger problem, however, was that during our first date, I joked about how great of a tennis player I was. I told him that I would kick his trash. I thought it would be so hilarious to talk up my skills and be so tricky.

It wasn’t hilarious. It was just dumb. I hardly ever managed to hit the ball back. The worst part of missing hits was not the clear demonstration that I sucked at tennis. It was the running after the ball again and again and again as Nathaniel, unable to help me out all the way on the other side of the court, stood there and watched. No, actually, the worst part was bending over to pick up the ball, giving my opponent a great view of my backside sticking up in the air. I called it quits after ten minutes.

So what I call our second date was actually our third, but I can’t call it the third or else I will get all mixed up in my head.

You know how Utah high school kids have themed group dates? Nathaniel has a friend who decided to do one of those. I guess he had some good experiences with that sort of thing in high school. We didn’t do that in Georgia.

Looking back on the date, I wish I hadn’t been wearing what I wore. You see, it was gangster-themed and Nathaniel encouraged me to go all out. With Marisa Tomei as my inspiration, I wore a black fitted jacket and a black pencil skirt with gaudy diamond-y costume jewelry, black gloves, stilettos, and fishnets. I guess that part of the outfit wasn’t so bad. It was when I decided to really get into character and wear pale make-up and dark lipstick that I did myself in. Why did I think that gangster’s girlfriends had pale faces?

If I had been smarter and just wore the plain, boring, make-up I usually wore, I would have a decent picture to show Summer when she starts to get curious about how her parents got together. Instead I have this.

Urg. Oh, and I have the memory of the awkward feeling I got when I saw the other girl on the date who was wearing jeans.

After dinner at Fazoli’s, a very gangster-y place, we went to the store to get stuff to make dessert. Because this was a creative date, we weren’t just going to be boring with dessert. Nathaniel and I would make dessert for the other couple on the date while they made dessert for us.

I was totally down with whatever plan gave Nathaniel and me more alone time.

We chose to make the easiest dessert in the world: ice cream sandwiches made with those cookies that you just pull apart and bake. As the cookies were baking, Nathaniel and I lay (lie?) down on the floor and talked. WHAT? WE DID THAT? IS THAT ALLOWED? Chill, people, there weren’t any couches in the basement and we were far apart from each other.

Nathaniel and I talked with the ease of old friends, so my questions got progressively less inhibited. I told Nathaniel he seemed like a very upright, do-good, stay-within-the-lines type of person. “Have you ever done anything rebellious?” I asked.

Ok. This is where I have to add my part of the story (This is Nathaniel).

UPDATE: Due to the nature of the internet, you'll have to ask Nathaniel to hear the story. It's a good one.

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Our Story, Part 3

This is cheesy, but hey, that's how it goes.



On May 5th, I hitched a ride back from a big get-together at the bishop’s house. The sky was cloudy and it had just been raining. Surely a bad omen. I had wavered between canceling and going, and by continuing to waver I inadvertently committed to going. As I sat in the back seat of the car, staring out the window, I knew it was wrong. I shouldn’t go. How could I, when today was supposed to have been my wedding day? I should be at home, I thought, with a friend and Ben and Jerry’s. I wouldn’t have a good time and my date wouldn’t have a good time and it would be a mess of a night.

“Any plans for tonight?” the girl sharing the back seat asked me.

“Yeah, I have a date. We’re supposed to go canoeing, but it’s not looking like great weather.”

“Oh, who’s your date?”

“Um, Nathaniel is his name, I think.”

“Oh, he’s really cool. And funny. You’ll have a good time.”

This was encouraging. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be such a disaster after all.

I was right about the rain – there would be no canoeing. Nathaniel called and said that we were just going to do dinner and play games at his place. I was glad; this meant I could wear whatever I wanted. I threw on some clothes, fluffed my hair a bit (because that’s how my hair had to be: fluffy), and re-did my make-up, just like I did for all dates. Nathaniel came to the door. I answered.

He probably looked good, but I remember absolutely nothing about that moment.

I do remember, as we were walking toward his car, that he found I had just finished my first year of law school.

“What?” he asked, surprised. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Man, I’m 23. I guess it takes longer when you go on a mission.”

This was my favorite moment of introductions.

“I served a mission, too.”

“Are you serious? Man, how did it take me so long?”

With that excellent beginning, we learned more about each other. I learned that he wanted to go to law school, that he came from a family of nine(!) kids, and that he had two more years of undergrad left. And he loved to read. He didn’t just read books for school. He read for pleasure. He read all sorts of books. He read all the time. That was hot.

We went to Los Hermanos for dinner. It was Cinco de Mayo and very crowded. I noted the numbers of people waiting for a table.

“Don’t worry, I was thinking ahead and made reservations.” Wow, that was kind of a cocky voice.

“Wow, you are so smart! Who would have thought of such a thing? Making reservations? You have got to be the most brilliant person alive!” I’m usually not good at sarcasm, and I know this sounds dumb, but here it really worked. And it got the reaction I wanted.

He talked back to me. He was standing close to me. I liked it.

At dinner, I asked Nathaniel all the usual questions, but not because it was polite or it was the right thing to do or to fill in the silence. I asked because I was dying to find out more about this person. More about this book reader with gorgeous blue eyes and a perfect smile, who liked Linkin Park but felt a bit guilty listening to them, who was proud of his grades, who loved cheese, and who held my attention with a grip so strong I forgot about the two other couples who accompanied us at dinner. I forgot about my food. I forgot about the masses of people around us. I forgot about everything except the way Nathaniel pondered before answering a question, the way he laughed, and the way he listened to me as though I was the only person in his world, too.

When dinner was over, we headed back to his apartment for games and ice cream. Looking at the display of games on the table, I knew which I wanted to play. Battleship. Two players. Just Nathaniel and me.

For some reason, playing Battleship, I was a complete ditz. Perhaps it was because I didn’t want to focus on dumb numbers and sinking ships when right in front of me there was there was a human being that I had to know everything about...if I could think straight when I was looking into his eyes.

“B7.” I said with conviction.

“B7? You just said B7. It was a miss.” Nathaniel looked at me, laughing, with a look that was half amusement and half “I can’t believe you just said something so stupid, again.”

“Oh. Right.”

One of his roommates asked Nathaniel something. I couldn’t hear it, or maybe I can’t remember it, but I loved Nathaniel’s response.

“Nothing. I am just talking to my date.” He was looking at me.

Something about the way he said “my date” made me think he liked me. I hoped he did.

When Nathaniel dropped me off, my roommate asked me how the date went.

“Really good!” My voice was a mixture of happiness, excitement, surprise, and confusion. An amazing date was the last thing I had been expecting that night. I tried to figure out why I had such a great time. We hadn’t done anything particularly exciting. The food was mediocre. Battleship was kind of a dumb game. The ice cream we ate after games didn’t look good; I didn’t have any. When we tried to watch Office clips, it didn’t really work on the huge, 1970s era TV.

But Nathaniel. Nathaniel was amazing. As far as I could tell, there was nothing wrong with him. There was no requisite I had for a significant other that he didn’t meet. His three goals in life were to be a good husband, be a good father, and honor his priesthood. He was intelligent. He was funny. He was not socially awkward. He was impressed, not intimidated by the fact that I was in law school. He was okay with his mistakes because he was comfortable with himself.

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t sleep. Something wasn’t quite right. I wasn’t supposed to be feeling like this, whatever “like this” was.

And then it hit me. Today was my wedding day. Today was the day that I was supposed to be married and I hadn’t thought about it for a moment until then.

I drifted off to sleep, amazed.

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Our Story, Part 2: Super Embarrassing

Feel free not to read this part. This is the part about the Ex. And the part where I explain why I was cuddling with another guy when Nathaniel asked me out. The next part is so much better. And just so you remember that our story has a happy ending, here is a wedding pic:

“What am I doing?” I asked myself as I clicked through pictures. The internet made it so much more difficult to break up with someone. I knew I wasn’t doing myself any favors by looking at my ex-fiancee’s myspace pictures, but I wanted so badly to know what was going on with his life. Besides, I wasn’t dating anyone, and I was pretty sure that we would get back together someday. We broke up because he had some issues that he needed to straighten out; once that was over, we’d live out our happily ever after. I was convinced that we were meant for each other. I was convinced that it was my life’s challenge to be married to someone completely wrong for me.

I hated myself for it, but I was concerned about a certain girl in my ex-fiancee’s life. I didn’t want to care, but I did. She was in his band, she was cute, and they had an inordinate amount of comments on each other’s myspace pages. If something was up, I had to know.

I came across a picture of them both on her myspace page. It was a close-up, but it looked like she was sitting on my ex’s lap. I looked at the comments. My heart sank. My greatest fear turned into reality. “You guys will have the cutest kids!” one exuberant commenter had written.

My ex was dating someone. I was crushed. I felt betrayed. Sure, I was dating other guys. My therapist had instructed me to do so. “Become a serial dater,” he said. And that’s what I was doing. But I wasn’t getting involved.

I learned more about the girl that had taken my spot. I quickly found all her faults. She took pictures of herself in her underwear and posted them online. She wasn’t going to school. Most insulting of all, she was nineteen. This blonde inactive attention seeker was the new girl in my ex’s life? If he went for her, what did that say about me?

I lie on the bed and cried. I cried for an embarrassing amount of time. I felt like my soul was being sucked away. Everything I knew about myself seemed to have changed. I was so sure that we would work out. I had never been more sure about anything. And I was wrong. I was wrong about something else, too. I thought I was over him. I thought I had gotten over him a dozen times before and I was through. But here I was, completely distraught because of a comment on a myspace picture. I had issues.

After long sessions of crying, talking to Noelle, and eating chocolate ice cream, I realized that I needed to get over myself. I wasn’t going to be pathetic and delude myself into thinking that things would somehow work out with a guy who had a freaking girlfriend. I was going to cut the strings completely. I was going to get over him for the last time.

The next day a friend of mine, Greg, came over and asked what was wrong.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yep.” I liked that he was honest, but I think I would have liked it more if he had lied.

“I’m sad because my ex-fiancé is dating this girl who is a total loser but she’s really cute and fun sounding and it makes me jealous that he hangs out with her and not me. And I’m totally pathetic for caring.”

Greg gave me a friendly, “I totally understand and take pity on you” look and gave me a big hug. He then sat me down on the couch, put a blanket over us, picked up the ward directory and told me to look through it to find a guy that I wanted to go out with. He was kind enough to assure me that none would refuse. It was ridiculous, sitting under a blanket, basically cuddling with Greg, looking though pictures of guys who go to our church and telling him which ones I thought were cute. But it felt good, so I went with it.

My phone rang and it was a number that I didn’t recognize. It looked like one of those numbers of people who are trying to sell you something like life insurance or burial plots.

“Should I get it?” I asked Greg.

“Sure,” he replied with a grin. “It could be a guy asking you out on a date.”

I wanted to prove him wrong, so I answered it.

“Is Dorothy there?” asked the voice on the other line.

It was Nathaniel.

"Do you know who this is?" Nathaniel asked.

"Of course I do."

I gave Greg a confused look. He quickly flipped through the ward directory so I could figure out who this Nathaniel person was. Ah-ha! Russian literature guy. Sure, I’d go out with him. I’d give anyone a chance.

When Greg left, I looked at the calendar. The coming Saturday, the day I was to go out with Nathaniel, was May 5^th. May 5^th was the day I was going to get married. I went to my room, plopped myself on my bed, and cried.

Uh, I'm glad that's over.

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Our Story, Part 1

Today, the majority of my friends from law school endured their first day of the bar examination. For those unfamiliar with this particular form of torture, just know that this is the test you have to take in order to become a lawyer, and it's killer. The amount of information you must know to pass this test fills hundreds of pages. How, you ask, are there still really dumb lawyers out there? Beats me. Apparently, they need a better test.

Someday, I will take the bar and become a lawyer like the rest of my class. But today is not that day. Instead, I am watching Summer sleep in her swing. My emotions consist of one part "Ha ha, suckas!" and one part envy.

Being a stay-at-home mom is so difficult for many reasons, but the one I'm having the hardest time with is not feeling like I'm contributing. My head knows that what I'm doing is important. I mean, somebody has to be home to be sure that when Summer wakes up, she'll get food and a diaper change and love. But it's so hard to know that we're living off student loans and I'm not bringing in any money.

To compensate, I try to do other good stuff. I clean. I cook. I take care of Summer. But that's not enough for me.

So right now, I'm writing this:



I'm writing our story. The story of how we met, fell in love, and got married. I feel like it's something that should be written down before we forget. Also, I feel like I owe it to the world to explain how it all happened so fast. Seriously, it was less than four months from the time of our first date to our wedding day.

So here is the first installment. It's not the craziest or most exciting story in the world; after all, we met in a BYU ward. But I hope it'll be something entertaining for when you're bored. And I hope it will keep me motivated to finish it.


****

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” I waved goodbye to Noelle and turned to leave the David O. McKay building. Everyone I knew who lived in my apartment complex on the south side of BYU campus went to church with me. Noelle , my beloved roommate, was my last chance to avoid walking home from church alone. And she had an appointment. Bummer.

So I walked out of the building all by myself, content to think about what I learned in church that day. I didn’t have much time to think, however, because soon a guy who was walking ahead of me with his friends turned around and asked, “What do you think?”

Confused, I replied “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m on the four month plan,” a member of the group said.

“The four month plan?”

“Yeah. I go to medical school in California in four months. My options will be limited up there. So I need to get married before I go.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard,” I exclaimed. Why, yes, I have always been a bit blunt. I blame my mother. “Being single is amazing! You get to have so much fun. You can flirt with whoever you want and do so many things with so many people!” I wanted so badly to show him the light and convince him to get his mind of this insane plan. I have no idea why it didn’t occur to me that he was joking.

“Yeah, but if I go to med school without getting married, I’ll have to lower my standards. There are so many good prospects here, but if I go there where there are fewer prospects, and I’ll get something less than I want. So, I better tie the knot in four months.”

I thought his plan and his argument were inane, but I was beginning to realize my last words may have been a bit harsh. So I empathized. “I see what you mean. If a guy in Georgia, where I’m from, were to ask me out, I might be really excited, but if the same guy were to ask me out here, I might say no.” That had actually happened once.

“So what would you say if Nathaniel asked you out?” asked the guy who had dragged me into this silly conversation in the first place.

“I don’t know who Nathaniel is.” I was annoyed. I could tell what he was doing and I didn’t like it.

He pointed to a guy in the group, who said, “Karl, stop it.”

What was I supposed to say? Nothing would be a bit awkward. Yes would be too forward, and besides, I hadn’t even gotten a good look at this guy’s face. No would hurt his feelings and might be a lie. I didn’t know how to answer that question.

“I don’t know how to answer that question.”

Nathaniel chuckled, his hands in his pockets and looking down. “That was the perfect way to answer that question.”

I smiled at him and continued walking. My awesome gold shoes with a three inch heel were hurting my feet.

Somehow, Nathaniel and I wound up walking back to the apartment complex together. He asked me questions about Georgia and I asked him where he was from. When I found out he was from Farmington, I was disappointed. “Typical Utah boy,” I thought, playing with the ball-shaped flowers we found on the ground.

When we got to the sidewalk where our two paths diverged, we stopped and talked a bit more. I sized him up. He had nice eyes and a good smile, but my three inch heels made him look short. Plus, this guy seemed interested in talking about Russian literature when he found out I had majored in English. Boring. I wasn’t interested.

“Well, I better go. I have got to get these shoes off.” He looked down at my feet and I saw a look of disapproval spread across his face.

“Yeah, you better go.”

“I’ll see you around,” I said as I turned to go. It bugged me that he disapproved of my awesome gold shoes.

And with that, I walked into my apartment and forgot about Nathaniel.

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