Confessions of an Awkward Date: Part III

I've saved the best for last, and this one is a doozy.

In May of 2005 I was 19 years old, attending BYU-Idaho. The summer semester had just started, and I was finding my footing after a semester at home, working to pay for school. You might remember from confession part one, that I had sent a boy off on a mission, and he was still very much gone, and very much missed.

On Saturday night, first week of school I had just gotten out of a hot bath, I was in my pajamas, and I'm sure I had a bowl of popcorn, sitting down to watch a chick flick by myself. You know. The typical night for a college student who'd given up on a social life at the ripe old age of 19. My cell rang. It was my biology lab partner, Adam, whom I'd met just days before.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date tonight. I could pick you up in about thirty minutes. Some friends and I are going to a bon fire out at the sand dunes."

I didn't want to go out on a date. Not with him. Not with anyone. I was in my pajamas. So I stalled. I said I'd ask if my roomates had plans that night. I stepped away from my cell phone and tried to come up with a stellar excuse. My mind was an empty fog of nothingness. I couldn't refuse.

"Yeah, sounds great. I'll see you in a little bit."

So I rushed off and got ready as quick as I could. I had no make up, wet hair, and somehow I was able to get ready for a date in less than 20 minutes.

I waited. And waited. And waited some more. He was 30 minutes late before he called. Our embarrassing conversation is seared in my mind for all eternity, and this is exactly how it went:

"Hi. It's Adam."

"Yep. Hi."

Empty silence.

"Umm, who is this?"

What. In. The. World. He didn't know who I was. He didn't know who he'd asked out on a date. My superior feelings of charity for going out with this guy when I didn't want to were quickly fading.

"This is Melissa." Nothing. "Marsden." Nothing. "Your lab partner."

"Oh. OH okay. I'll be right over."

While I had been waiting for him to arrive, He'd gone to pick up the girl he though he'd invited on a date, waited around for her before asking why she wasn't getting ready. Found out he'd never called Katie, he'd called some random girl named Melissa. He decided it would be rude to take Katie, the girl he was dating, so he came to pick me up. How generous.

I was feeling pretty stupid by this point. After all, even though I didn't want to go on a date with him, I was extremely attracted to him. Now that I knew I wasn't his choice, I was his accident, I was embarrassed.

You know what though? After the initial mortification had worn off, we had a great time. And almost a decade later we are still having a good time. Because he married me. Take that, Katie.

An awkward confession deserves and awkward photo to go along with it.