The Deviation
Last Christmas, I got two tickets to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert. I typically have a strict policy against asking boys on dates, but I decided to deviate from it because it was a special occasion. Bad idea.
Elaine and I walked over to my good friend Bradley's apartment. Elaine's purpose in coming was partly for moral support, but mostly to distract Bradley's roommates from what was sure to be an interesting conversation. We got there, and Elaine continually attempted to distract Brandt, but Bradley was paying far more attention to their exchange than to my attempts to divert him. I slowly sank into the couch as I realized that I was not getting anywhere. This boy was far too dense.
We sat there for fifteen to twenty minutes talking with no opportunities for my question arising. Then, there was a knock at the door. Someone else had come to visit Bradley and Elaine and I probably needed to leave. I realized that this was the moment. Now or never. I stood up and walked directly in front of Bradley. I asked him if he would like to go to the concert with me. He agreed to. It didn't take very long, but apparently Brandt was having a struggle of his own.
Brandt told me later that he had realized very quickly what I was trying to do. He ran to the door and blocked the entrance of the other boys, only able to conjure up lame small talk to try and slow their progress. As he tells it, I took ages to finally get the question out as he sacrificed his social respectability to the greater cause of my dating life. Poor Brandt.
The truly post-worthy moment came the night before the concert, when we were playing Mario Kart at the boys' apartment. There was a lull in conversation and Bradley turned to me and asked loudly, "So, who else is coming to the concert tomorrow night?"
"No . . . one." I stuttered, "It's just us."
"Oh..." He stared at me as everyone else squirmed in their places on the couch. The intensity of the race on screen seemed to dissipate to make room for the awkward tension that had filled the air. I didn't know what to do. I could explain that I had meant the outing as a friendly date instead of a romantic one, but the moment had passed and it would have drawn even more attention to my discomfort. Eventually, someone changed the subject and we somehow moved on from that crippling moment.
This was actually the first of two separate dates that I accidentally tricked Bradley into, but the second one doesn't make anywhere near as good of a story. We saw Unicorn City, and it was awesome.
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Elaine and I walked over to my good friend Bradley's apartment. Elaine's purpose in coming was partly for moral support, but mostly to distract Bradley's roommates from what was sure to be an interesting conversation. We got there, and Elaine continually attempted to distract Brandt, but Bradley was paying far more attention to their exchange than to my attempts to divert him. I slowly sank into the couch as I realized that I was not getting anywhere. This boy was far too dense.
We sat there for fifteen to twenty minutes talking with no opportunities for my question arising. Then, there was a knock at the door. Someone else had come to visit Bradley and Elaine and I probably needed to leave. I realized that this was the moment. Now or never. I stood up and walked directly in front of Bradley. I asked him if he would like to go to the concert with me. He agreed to. It didn't take very long, but apparently Brandt was having a struggle of his own.
Brandt told me later that he had realized very quickly what I was trying to do. He ran to the door and blocked the entrance of the other boys, only able to conjure up lame small talk to try and slow their progress. As he tells it, I took ages to finally get the question out as he sacrificed his social respectability to the greater cause of my dating life. Poor Brandt.
The truly post-worthy moment came the night before the concert, when we were playing Mario Kart at the boys' apartment. There was a lull in conversation and Bradley turned to me and asked loudly, "So, who else is coming to the concert tomorrow night?"
"No . . . one." I stuttered, "It's just us."
"Oh..." He stared at me as everyone else squirmed in their places on the couch. The intensity of the race on screen seemed to dissipate to make room for the awkward tension that had filled the air. I didn't know what to do. I could explain that I had meant the outing as a friendly date instead of a romantic one, but the moment had passed and it would have drawn even more attention to my discomfort. Eventually, someone changed the subject and we somehow moved on from that crippling moment.
This was actually the first of two separate dates that I accidentally tricked Bradley into, but the second one doesn't make anywhere near as good of a story. We saw Unicorn City, and it was awesome.
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