I'm hooking up with SOS this time. See here.
I was studying French at Universite Laval in St.Foy, Quebec. It was Quatre vingt huit, 1988 in an intensive summer program, attended mostly by Western Canadians. In some cases, they were sent to learn French by their company, or were looking to learn more French because that helps on a resume. Let's just say that most of them were more dedicated to partying than to learning French. There was a lot of English spoken in their midst outside of class. I found myself hanging out with the Chinese and Hispanics and meeting a LOT of Africans who were more than willing to speak French with me. I learned some very interesting things about places like Ivory Coast that summer. Mostly I learned that I probably had no compatibility in attitudes relating to male-female relationships with the majority of them.
So, one day I came to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe being single sucks. Before this I really was in no big hurry to settle down at all. Unlike the typical Utah girl who seemed to want to be a child bride, I wanted to avoid commitment, er, I mean, really live and get to know myself and others, do a few things on my own before choosing a mate. But this one fateful day, I realized that I was doing re-runs. Every guy I met turned out to be a combination of some other guys I'd already dated. For one reason or another, I knew I wasn't interested in these different varieties. So, soon after I'd start getting to know someone, I would know I was now dating a combination of Gilligan's Island and Leave it to Beaver, and quite frankly, I'd seen more episodes than I cared to of both. So, I made a deal with God that day. I told him I was in no big rush, and I would willingly keep myself busy doing constructive things with my life, but, socially I was so done with the whole singles scene. I was going to give up for now. I would stop running from marriage and I would try to stop being scared of interesting people, thereby repelling them ( I only did this occasionally when the person seemed a real threat to my resolve to stay single.) All I wanted from Him was that he start putting some people in my path who might truly be compatible with me, that He approved of, and I would do my part to make it work. The end. I went on with life, planning how to dump the 4 guys I had hanging on back home after which I would graduate from college within a few years and probably join the peace corps before going on to a brilliant interpreting career. I would travel, I would get involved in worthy causes. After all, finding someone I could actually make an eternal commitment to, and both the guy and God would agree to the deal as well was probably going to take a few years.
August came and went. A few friends and I made arrangements to share a hotel room in Montreal near the airport the weekend after leaving the dorms. When we arrived, I called my friend Conchi's mom to find out if I could go to her church meetings that Sunday. They attended a Spanish congregation. I had stayed at their home while waiting to get into the dorms the week I arrived in Canada. She gave me instructions how to get there, and that Sunday I arrived, as could be expected of me, a little bit late. It was 88, so I had a permed long hairstyle with bangs, not too high because lucky for me, my hair doesn't perform that kind of gymnastics so I don't have to cringe too bad when I look at old pictures. I was wearing a black and white striped sailor top with big pink buttons, a black denim high-waisted straight skirt with a flap in the back and I had on a hoop and ball set earrings with a real whistle on the hoop. I don't know why I remember my whole outfit that day, but for some reason I do, so there it is. I was wearing shoes and all I remember about them, because I'm allergic to shoes is that they were comfortable and matched. I opened the back door to the chapel and looked around for my friends. While I was trying to find them, I was being distracted by a guy who turned his head to look towards the open door. He smiled at me. I smiled back. He seemed nice. I started canvassing the room and eventually located my friend towards the far back quarter of the room and went to join her. But that guy up in like the middle of the room who smiled at me? He seemed to have forgotten where the speaker was and was turning to locate where I had sat. He smiled again when he found me.
So, all throughout the meeting as I'm trying to listen, I keep noticing this guy turning around to look at me. Weird, he must be weird. He had a cute face though, and a really nice smile. He had big brown eyes, black hair, and chocolate milk complexion. Anything chocolate is good in my book. He seemed fun. He seemed to have a mischievous glow about him. He also seemed to have forgotten to pay attention to the meeting. Now, I had been attending BYU before that summer, home of all spineless guys who act interested but never make the next move, juxtaposed next to those who asked you to marry them after one date. So I just thought to myself, "We'll see if he has the guts to talk to me afterwards, and not propose." I tried to avoid noticing him noticing me. I looked straight at the speaker and payed rapt attention. Just don't ask me what we learned about that day.
To Be Continued...