| 
Best
Dating Stories
A
column to help the hopelessly lost during the most fun
years of their lives!
By
Erin Ann McBride and Juli Hiatt Caldwell, innocent until proven
guilty
It
Gets Better Than This, Right??
Have
you ever had a bad week? Do you ever wonder if it could
get any better? Well, we feel your pain. This week Juli
and Erin are battling Hurricane Frances (at the time of this post Juli was still bunkered down
in her boarded up house in Florida with no phone or electricity),
and Erin was dealing with moving trucks and a blown transmission.
So this week we bring to you our favorite readers’ responses
from all around the world- from Hawaii to Kuwait to New Zealand to Utah. We go around the world and back again!
Best
Dating Story Involving an Italian
From
Ann in Hawaii-
It
takes place my freshman year at BYU. At the beginning
of the school year a guy in my ward who I had just met,
who was in the Intercollegiate Knights, invited me to
be in their princess competition. I was flattered, and
I competed but didn't win. I had never done anything like
that before, so it was just a fun experience. The guy
was just a guy in my ward; I had no real interaction with
him or attraction to him. He, on the other hand, must
have had some unrequited thing going on.
Well,
time passed and I got into a relationship with a very
studly Italian. Things went well until after Valentines
Day, when I broke up with him. Then in April he asked
me out again for my birthday: he planned a wonderful day
for me.
Okay,
now it's the beginning of April almost the end of school,
and the nice boy in my ward, whom I had never heard from
again since the competition, out of the blue calls and
asks me out. I knew, from the trembling and sweating I
could hear over the phone, that
he had spent WEEKS if not MONTHS getting up his courage
to make that call. And he asked me out for the very night
that my ex had already arranged. I had to turn him down.
I felt SO bad.
And
now, 28 years later, I still feel bad. I could have offered
another night. I hope he remembers that I was kind to
him: I tried to be. I really wasn't attracted to
him, but bless him, he was to me. I can't even remember
his name, but I sure wish everything has turned out good
for him.
By
the way, the Italian faded out of the picture, leaving
lasting memories, and my English professor husband and
I have just celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary!
Falling
in Love Over the Grenade Launcher
From
Rose in Kuwait
We were both in the Army Reserve, and it was time for our units to
do the annual qualification with our weapons. I was put
in the rotation with his unit, an Airborne, Pathfinder
unit. (Pathfinders go in ahead of the troops and mark
landing zones for helicopters and airplanes, and Airborne-they
jump out of perfectly good airplanes.) (This type of unit
is all male). I was in a Personnel Service Company.
Terry was in the foxhole next to mine, and we got talking,
about things. He did give me a few pointers, and I ended
up with the highest score in my unit. We next went to
fire the grenade launcher. Only two soldiers were able
to qualify that day, Terry and me. The last range was
the machine gun. Terry did not go to that range, but
his squad leader watched how well I did, and told Terry
later that night how well I did. Terry told me later that
that the squad leader was very impressed with how well
I did.
Terry decided that when he saw me again, that he was going to ask
me out, as there were not too many girls that could talk
about the Army and understand what was being talked about,
and shoot as well as he did. I did not see Terry again
till the next month, when my unit went to his unit and
updated their paperwork. Terry asked me out, and we married
one year later. That was 20 years ago.
We’re all weepy eyed! A love story isn’t a love story without a grenade
launcher!
Always Be Nice to Your Sister’s Date!
From Bev in Utah
My
husband and I met at a Tri-Stake Halloween Dance. I wasn’t
really interested in going to the dance but got talked
into it by a friend. When I walked into the dance, I
picked him out as the Best Looking guy there.
When my husband saw me he remembered me from when he had been at
my house to see my sister years before. He asked me to
dance & inquired if I was Gloria's sister. I about
died- because his name was legend! He was a great football
star etc. He asked me out the following Tuesday.
When my mom heard about the date...she cautiously said, "Well,
I guess it's ok to date him, but you wouldn't want to
marry someone that had dated your sister!" I agreed.
We were married 3 months later. That was almost 39 yrs
ago!
Even Guys Have Stalkers* Too!
Code
Name: Mike from Mississippi (who is neither named Mike
or from Mississippi)
Just
to keep a long, scary story short, I once received a letter
from a female member of my ward telling me that I needed
to get down on my knees and repent. It seems that the
Holy Spirit had given her a vision that she and I were
meant to be together. It was obvious to her that I needed
to repent because I was unable to hear the message that
the Holy Spirit was trying to send me.
She
kept at it so much that I went to a member of my bishopric
and explained what was going on and that if she didn't
leave me alone, I was going to the stake president and
ask to have records transferred to another ward so I wouldn't
have to have any contact with her. She finally accepted
the fact that I wanted no kind of relationship with her
and that I would decide when and if I would have a relationship
with someone and that no relationships would be forced
upon me.
Not long after, she moved away but it was a very tense time at church
for a while!
“Mike” we feel your pain!
When
a Stalker Comes Knocking
*We
have been asked to define “stalker.” For the intents
and purposes of this column, a “stalker” is an annoying
person who just can’t seem to figure out that you are
not interested in them or their advances, and hang on
to you relentlessly. These people are also frequently
known as leeches, boogers, and ex-boyfriends.
Sad,
But True
People
have come up with some pretty awkward methods for trying
to set me up in my sleepy little Utah town. I had just
endured a long sacrament meeting, and was anxious to get
home and catch up on the resting part of my Sabbath. Before
I could even get to my feet a sister came up from two
rows back and promptly asked if I had a boyfriend or was
dating anyone.
Some notes here: First, nobody ever talks to me after church unless
they want something - so I was on guard. Second, there
are virtually no eligible men in this area and she would
surely know that, as she is single herself. Third, she
is dying from terminal cancer and has two young boys that
she's raising.
I knew the general direction she was heading with her questioning,
but couldn't lie and say I was seeing someone. I told
the truth. She looked entirely too relieved when I responded
in the negative, but I was not prepared for what came
next.
“Good!" she exclaimed, “I'd like you to meet my ex-husband!'”
(He was there for their oldest son's confirmation.) When
she dragged her unsuspecting 'ex' over to make the introductions,
his own alarm and discomfort showed plainly on his face.
What was I supposed to say? “So.... why didn't things
work out between you two?” (No, I didn't really.) Needless
to say, I haven't seen him since.
Later she admitted to my dad (her home teacher) what I had suspected
all along. “Well,” said she, “I would like to pick out
my sons' future mom before I die.”
Flat Tires and Cheerleaders
From Lisa in California
At
the time my daughter was 8 (from a previous marriage)
and she was cheerleading for Pop Warner Football. It was
a Sunday morning and we were on our way to a game. It
was cold and we were in the middle of nowhere with about
25 miles to go and all of a sudden I found that the car
was not moving so well. I pulled over to the side of the
freeway and realized I had a flat tire.
Now,
I can change a tire myself, but when I bought the car
I did not know that the proper tools were not in the trunk.
So I looked at my daughter and said there are 2 call boxes
one up the hill and one down the hill which should we
go to. She said," We should go to the one up the
hill because then we could walk back down without getting
tired. As we were walking a group of her teammates pulled
over and offered us a ride. I asked them if they would
take her to the football game and I would meet them just
as soon as I got the tire taken care of.
I
was on the phone with the CHP (California Highway Patrol)
and frankly the lady on the other end was not being very
nice to me. I told her the problem and she said a tow
truck would cost $75 and they would only take cash, of
course I only had $20 cash on me at the time. So I asked
her to call my mother and she put me on hold telling me
not to hang up. After 25 minutes of waiting I was in tears
people would pass by and honk and yell out their windows.
Suddenly
a car pulled over and a man got out and said I am going
to the town the football game was in and asked if I wanted
a ride. I told him the situation and he said his parents
lived up the freeway a bit and he could get the tools
to help with my tire.
It
never occurred to me to be afraid, so I got in his car
and went with him. We got back to my car and he was almost
done changing the tire when the CHP pulled over and started
reading me the riot act. Because I hung up they thought
something had happened to me.
Charles
(my husband) was going to Ukiah and offered to show me
to the high school where the game was. When we got there
he told me he had a buddy that had a tire shop and he
would go get it fixed and put it on my car while I was
at the game. At this point I was just awed by this man.
I said ok and we went our separate ways.
Something
in my kept saying go back to the car and leave him a note.
So I left him a note asking for his email address and
gave him mine and my phone number. He was supposed to
return to Oregon the next Friday, but I told him if he
was back down I would like to take him out to dinner to
show him my thanks.
Four
long hours later we returned to the car, he had left me
a note stating that the tire was beyond repair, but there
was a brand new tire on my car and he left me his email
address.
I
thought about him all the way home. People just do not
go out of their way anymore.
When
I got home I told my mother the story and she laughed
and I said I think I met the man I will marry.
I
emailed him and invited him to dinner. But he had just
been through a horrible divorce 2 years before and was
in an “I hate women” frame of mind. He had been visiting
his mother and helping her out. When she found out about
the dinner invitation she said if he couldn’t get everything
done and was still there by Friday “you will go with her,”
and he said yes.
He
should have seen it coming! My mother-in-law made up all
kinds of things for him to do so that he was here on Friday.
He drove over to my house and we went in to San Francisco
to dinner and sight see. It was a lovely time with no
pressure and I learned a lot about the LDS faith that
night. Charles had served a mission in Texas and was talking
about it and I told him I was not sure what he was talking
about so he explained about the church to me.
Our
second date he took me and my daughter to the visitors
center of the Oakland Temple and we went on the roof top
garden and he said that the only way he would ever get
married was if he could have a temple marriage.
To
make a very long story short we will celebrate the 5 year
anniversary of that first date on September 9th.
Thank you to everyone who contributed their personal stories to our
column! More stories are always welcome. Your horror
stories, best dates, crazy wedding stories, and even proposals
(both good and bad) are gratefully accepted!
Your
Mission, Should You Choose to Accept It—
Send
us your proposal stories! Do you have a unique and one
of a kind proposal story? We would love to hear it!
Thanks for reading and we’ll see you next week! And remember, all
compliments, concerns, criticisms, cash, and other words
starting with a c can be sent to erinandjuli@meridianmagazine.com
Click
here to sign up for Meridian's FREE email updates.
© 2004 Meridian
Magazine. All Rights Reserved.
|