This is me. The day after Mr. Muscles (that’s what I shall call him from here on out) handed me the note that said he thought I was–and I quote–“very cute.” Remember that? Yeah. That was fantastic wasn’t it?
Anyways, I like how I look in this picture. I think I look content. At home in my own skin. Which, to be honest, I’m usually not. (Are girls ever? Or is it just me?) But that note and the total attentiveness, i.e. staring, from Mr. Muscles at our lunch date yesterday (Yes. I called.) did something to me. But I’m getting ahead of myself aren’t I? (What’s new?)
So here’s the rest of the story.
After he handed me the note (go here if you don’t know what I’m talking about) I texted Frit immediately (of course) to tell her what happened. Then I finished my run. And then, on my way to my car, after a bit of debate–should I? shouldn’t I?–I texted him: Hey…this is the girl from the gym. Were you serious? Or was that just a joke or a dare maybe? It just seemed impossible that he could’ve been for real. Guys like him (athletic, strong, and really cute) don’t go for girls like me (somewhat pretty on good days, a few great features but not drop-dead-gorgeous, and by no means athletic). It’s like a law of nature or something, I’m certain. But he replied: Yes I was serious. (What? The laws of nature just went all wonky.) We texted back and forth the rest of the night and he asked if I wanted to go to lunch the next day. I said, Yep. I do.
The next day I was different. I didn’t check and re-check myself in the mirror. I didn’t change my outfit 10 times (only 3). And when I looked at myself in the mirror on the way out the door, I actually thought, huh. You look pretty hot Maurer. And yeah I know I’m going all Johnny Lingo/Mahana* on you. But for real. The laws of nature that I’d always lived by were gone.
See I’ve always had a pretty healthy opinion of myself in most ways. I’m confident that I’m a smart, successful, accomplished, talented, fairly funny–ok, ok, freaking hilarious–spiritually-tuned woman who can cook and hostess better than Martha. But I’m never the object of someone’s affection, or attention. So in the back of my head (or front of my heart, take your pick), I’ve always held the notion that boys just don’t like me for some reason. And the only conclusion I could ever come to was my looks. That had to be the reason I don’t ever get asked out. Ever. (Am I saying too much here? Probably.) So to have some random (cute) guy, at the gym of all places, find me so physically attractive that he would approach me out of the blue, not even knowing about the “smart, successful, accomplished, talented, freaking hilarious, spiritually-tuned woman who can cook and hostess better than Martha” underneath? Well. That just does something to a girl. Something good.
So I show up at lunch (I wore light khaki linen-ey slacks, a black 3/4 sleeve v-neck with gathers around the chest, and black ballet flats with my hair in big loose curls. I always want details like that so…there you go, in case you’re wondering.) and he was waiting–in jeans, flip flops, and a plain white-t. Um…kinda like Tom Cruise in Top Gun. And you know how I feel about Top Gun. And I know I shouldn’t think this (we Mormons don’t do tattoos) but the tattoo round his bicep peeking out from under his sleeve was pretty hot.
Excuse me while I go take a cold shower. I’ll be back to finish the story in a bit …
OK. I’m back. So like I said, he was waiting. We hugged. He was strong. [grin] And from there–we ordered, ate, and talked. And within 10 minutes … I was pretty certain he wasn’t for me. Within 45 minutes, I was way certain he wasn’t for me. I know. Sad huh?
He was super nice but we really didn’t line up on some major things–namely Church stuff. Plus there were some “choice of language” differences and differing philosophies about family and family relationships.
After an hour, I said I needed to go. He wanted to hang out the rest of the day. I said I couldn’t. He asked if he could see me again. And I wondered if he’d even listened to me during lunch? I mean it was so obvious that I so wasn’t what he was looking for. And he’s not at all what I’m looking for. If we’d pursued anything beyond that lunch, I’m certain I’d drive him crazy and eventually I’d get frustrated with him. And then I realized … he probably hadn’t heard much. He really had just stared at me. Which was so flattering and made me blush just a little. But really. After an hour, he knew nothing more about me than what he had known when I walked in, which was that he was attracted physically. He knew nothing about the “smart, successful, accomplished, talented, freaking hilarious, spiritually-tuned woman who can cook and hostess better than Martha.” And I need someone who wants to get to know all of that. I need someone who adores all that and can’t get enough of all that.
But I also know now how much I need someone who makes me feel as amazingly gorgeous as he did. And that finding someone who feels that way was/is actually possible.
But you know something else? You know what I was thinking about throughout the entire lunch? Him. No, not Mr. Muscles. Him. He comes in a week. And well. I’m pretty over the moon for him. And … he kinda likes me too. At least that’s what he tells me (although he doesn’t use the word “kinda”). Which is weird/scary/crazy/unnerving to feel towards someone I’ve never met in person. And it’s also a little embarrassing to admit out loud since he stops by here every now and again (Hi you. I bet you’re feelin’ pretty good about yourself right now knowing that I was thinking about you the entire time I was on a date with another guy.) :) but really, as soon as I said goodbye to Mr. Muscles (and called Frit to give her the run-down on the date of course) he was who I wanted to talk to. Next Wednesday can’t come soon enough.
And that is the end of the story about my fling with Mr. Muscles. Twas a lovely 18 hours.
Please feel free to leave comments, concerns, or questions in the comment box below. Thank you for your time.
Have a lovely afternoon.
*You can watch Johnny Lingo & Mahana here: Part 1, Part 2 It’s a short movie and totally worth watching over and over (like I did when I was a kid). I even had a goldfish on my mission that we named Mahana.
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