Saturday, December 8, 2012

Love in the Joint

I posted a photo the other day on Instagram and realized that I may not have ever shared this story! Here goes:

Labor Day Weekend 1997 (I feel like Sophia Pettrillo). We had a gas leak in my neighborhood that weekend. We smelled a little bit of that rotten egg smell on Saturday, but by Sunday, we knew we had a big problem. Several neighbors called the city and even though they would have preferred to wait, we all knew that if this leak wasn't fixed, it was gonna be bad news. The utility trucks arrived around 5 that evening and when we got back home from church that night, they were still there. All in all, they would up digging five or six 6'x6' holes in the road to find the leak. (As an aside, my parents only live about a mile and a half from the Chattahoochee. If that leak has blown up, there would have been major damage to the river and water system.) All of us were assured that the city would not leave giant holes in the road.

The next morning, my Mom woke me up to tell me she was going to my grandparents. So, I got dressed in a hurry. I grabbed a teal Disney magic music days t-shirt, hunter green and navy Disney shorts, my gold round frame glasses, threw my hair in a ponytail and ran out the door. My mom and I got in the car and left.

This should be the end of the story, but, no.

The following Sunday night, as we were getting ready for church. My mom handed me a letter. It was addressed to "Babygirl" and although my address wasn't right, I thought it was a joke.

That is, until I read the letter.

Apparently, in the 30 seconds it took to walk from the back door of my parents house to my Mom's car, I'd made quite an impression.

What detail I'd seemingly forgotten is that the city, in an effort to save money, didn't want to pay the regular city workers time-and-a-half to patch those holes in the street on a holiday.

So they opted to use free, available labor -- the inmates from the county jail.

That's right, I got a letter from a prisoner.

So, if you're keeping track, my options for a beloved are as follows: a 17 year-old, an Inmate, and guys on the Internet. Lucky me!

(You should know that I wrote this post in Waffle House this am.) Just as I was finishing up, a 2-toothed cook lingered a little too long asking how my food was. So I'm guessing I should add him to the list too.

God help my future gene pool. And somebody help me.

That convent is looking better and better.


Friday, December 7, 2012

30 days of Christian Mingle

(I need to preface what I write with this: I will do my best not to mention a single screen name. I am thankful for dating website and realize this posts could get me banned for life.)

Currently, I'm listening to a cover of a Celine Dion song that transports me (regardless of the artist) back to my 17 year old self. I'm not proud of this, but I was so cruel to a few boys. Boys that I never, ever in a million years meant to hurt, but now see very clearly, how badly I hurt them. (I'M SO SORRY. TRULY I AM.) Ironically enough, they're all married now. With kids.

(Maybe it's not karma, but it's definitely the golden rule. How you treat people will affect how others treat you.)

And even though I swore that I would never do it again, I joined Christian Mingle.

Right now, you're judging me. That's fine. I'm still judging me, so we're even.

I had one of those weirdo nights where I got very sad about being single. I have days where it truthfully just sucks. (There are also a lot of days where I have no time to dwell on my lack-o-relationship.) I joined and promised myself that I wouldn't tell anybody. And that lasted about two days. I was intrigued.

I justified my actions by not paying for the site. You can just be a member for free. You don't have to answer a million questions (I'm talking to you EHarmony) but what you write, and the pictures you want to post have to be approved. It just takes a day or two. Not a big deal. Very early after I joined, I got an email. Because I wasn't paying, I couldn't read the email. This is my one big Christian Mingle regret. (Later on, once I paid, I read the email and nearly cried because it was so sweet.) It was from a very kind guy and I honestly don't think I deserved the nice things he said about me – a complete stranger. Sadly, he's not on CM anymore meaning I missed my chance.

What I have gotten so tickled about though are the screen names that people choose. And the places they take photos. And the animals they take photos with. When I tell you that there are a few folks that have provided HOURS of entertainment, I'm not kidding. One guy was wearing an eye patch and I wound up speaking in a pirate voice for almost two days. ARGGH. One guy's photos all included his ex-wife. (He mentioned her in his profile. UUMMM, NO.) One guy was having a LOT of mental health issues and went into great depth to detail those issues. One guy took a photo in a windowless white van. (Thanks to a bevy of lifetime movies in my latter teen years, I am afraid of being kidnapped in a windowless white van.) A LOT of guys take photos in a bathroom. With visible toilets. Often lid up.

Side note: if you can't take a better photo than that, I must conclude you are NOT the man that God has for me. Thanks for playing. True story.

There are a lot of dogs that make photos. Strangely enough, no cats. One guy had a ginormous iguana/kimodo dragon/lizard that could eat him. Nothing screams "I'm sexy" like reptiles. (I should make a shirt that says that. #winning)

And the screen names. OH MY WORD. Every superhero, superpower, James Bond, bible verses, and more "Christian-ese" phrases than I can shake a stick at. I have seriously loved every one.

I went into this process with my very short list of non-negotiables: must love Jesus, at least 5'9", gainfully employed. Now my list is longer and I'm contemplating chucking the whole list out the window. (Seriously, who am I to know God's best for me?)

I haven't found love. Instead, I've started googling how to join a convent.