Valentine's Day: Surprises and the Truth

I waited all day for the phone call from my mom that meant she had recieved the bouquet I'd ordered for her last month. When it came, I was informed that whatever company I had used shipped everything inside a big brown box and she had to assemble the arrangement herself. What a rip-off! I might as well have paid one of those immigrants hanging out at the Day Labor place to drag over a Kroger bouquet. Whatever. The box-o-flowers kinda softens the affect of flowers at work. Which, by the way, is the trump card of Valentine's Day.

Other than that mild disappointment, I am seriously beginning to sense a change in myself.

Yesterday I watched as this six foot tall blonde walked my pseudo-hipster Napoleon Dynamite crush down the center aisle at church before sitting together. They had to climb over people to sit side by side. I couldn't tell if she was chasing him, or if he was willing her to come along with him. Were they together? What was the deal? And I couldn't get it out of my mind. The whole church service I was checking to see if they were talking or exchanging looks. They weren't. And eventually, during a sermon about selfishness, of course, I managed to shake the obsession. Napoleon isn't even my usual type. He is 100 percent white American, and a little odd to boot. Why do I care what he does? If I fixate on him like this, its just going to make this whole experience about something that it has nothing to do with. Church is NOT a dating service.

"I kind of have international tendencies," I told Maryanne. We were at Panera Bread eating lunch after Sunday service. I had only met Maryanne a few times but we had already been to lunch in a group once before, so we got along okay.
"What do you mean tendencies?"
"I mean... I like foreign guys. I don't know why. I am just so much more attracted to them."
"Oooooh," Maryanne laughed. She had already finished her bagel. I was sitting there trying to eat the rest of my salad. "I'm weird like that too."
"Really?! With foreigners?"
"Oh-- no. I mean, I have a thing." Maryanne was twenty-six and pretty in a quiet way. She looked much older than she was, but had mannerisms and gestures that made her seem much younger than she was. She was sweet, and a little bit innocent.
"What's you're thing?"
"Well," Maryanne leaned in across the table, "I like black guys."
I almost spewed my soda.
"Well I do!" We both started laughing. "I mean, most of them are hot! So..."
Sometimes people surprise you. It's what makes life fun.

After church, I watched the blonde Amazon woman dart away from Napoleon, who is only a few inches taller than me, and I realized they were not together at all. They had been chatting casually and had ended up sitting next to each other. If either one of them wanted to continue talking, they would have stayed right where the were in the middle of the pew the minute the service closed. But amazon woman was out the door before I even had a chance to look for her. She didn't even say goodbye.

"I would have said goodbye." I mumbled to myself, on the way out to my car.

True. I could have said something to Napoleon as he waded his way out the door just like me. But he was already talking to someone else. Someone male, I noted. And I don't really know why I got on this thing where I notice him all the time. I don't even think I like him that much. Maybe its just somewhere to put my feelings. Maybe I park my feelings on Napoleon these days.

One thing I do know, though. I don't feel as much urgency in the dating department any more. I think maybe that's one thing I was doing wrong all this time. I felt this urgency. Like, He's right around the corner! I just need to meet him! So that literally every corner I turned I was looking for someone and calling fate on whoever I found. I don't know about that anymore. What I've figured out is this: You can't fit a square into a circle. No matter how close they are to perfect, you shouldn't settle.

In fact there is a guy at church who seems perfect. He did speech and debate, he goes to my church, he helps take care of his grandma, and works for himself! Well. What I really found out was that he was terrible at speech and debate, he only goes to church sometimes, he lives with his grandma, and he doesn't really work at all. He runs a website. Not a real job. And the living with grandma? Weird. He's 31 years old! Come on, now.

Anyway, I'm just not in a big hurry for someone to wow me with flowers and balloons. If the guy is wrong for you, all that cutesy stuff is just salt in the wound, right? All that's left is to figure out who's gonna be the wounded one.

I'll wait for it all now, okay?

I just hope I'm not too late.