Weekly Anamnesis #35
The rain beat on the car roof like a child banging a pot. It was loud. There in the darkness we had to speak louder to hear each other. I laid my head on his lap, and we stared at each other as we giggled and explored with our hands. His blue eyes pierced me, even in the dark. When he smiled, his eyes twinkled. It was just like those moments you hear about: it only lasts for a short time, but it feels like forever.
I had seen him at work before. He was in charge of making bread, I think. He'd come into our shop every morning to drop off the loaves, and he'd hang around to talk and flirt with me and Jessica. His name was Rob. He had surfer blonde hair, was a thick build and he drove a white dumpy pick-up truck. He had just moved here from Arizona.
One Sunday at my singles ward I saw him there. I guess I was suprised because I hadn't associated him with mormon or church up to that point. After sacrament meeting, we met behind the pews and he asked me if I was going to sunday school. "No..." I replied, because I never liked auxillary meetings at that ward. He asked if I wanted to go out with him for lunch instead. Having not dated a lot, I got excited and said sure.
In his truck we drove up to Salt Lake valley. Neither of us could decide what we wanted to eat so we went to the mall and hung out for a while. He made me laugh. He complained about church, and his honesty was refreshing for me. We finally were hungry enough to go eat, and it was then, walking through the parking lot, that he reached out and held my hand.
The meal was mediocre. I think it might have been at Village Inn or Denny's or something. Somewhere in Sandy. I still think about him when we drive past the 106th south exit. I digress. We continued our conversation, but we also were frustrated with piss-poor service at the restaurant. We were both relieved when we were done and leaving.
We spent the rest of the day together. We came back to Alpine and drove around the hills a bit. I showed him the water tank, a gigantic white cylinder set into the hill, which you could sit on and have a spectacular view of the whole valley. After dark we drove back to my house. I could typically get around unnoticed and ignored, so we hung out in my back yard. My parents had spent a small fortune landscaping that yard. It was lit up by the moonlight, and the greens of the yard and trees looked a deep black. We sat holding hands and looking at the stars. He leaned over and kissed me, and though it was really nice, it was clear then that I didn't click with him.
Over the next couple of weeks we went out a few more times. But I was formulating my excuse to call it off. He just seemed distant. Seemed interested in the physical, but didn't really seem to care about me or my needs. I felt like a time-filler, since he was new to the area.
So there we were in his truck in the rain. We had been kissing (I'm a sucker for kissing) and I was laying on him. He had his big arms wrapped around me and he'd brush my lips with soft kisses. He put one of his hands up my shirt, in an effort to slip it off me. Though I was savoring and reeling from the sweet moment just before, it was then that I sat bolt upright and told him I couldn't do this. I told him that I wanted to stay pure (or some such nonsense) and that I was waiting to be married before I went further with a guy. I reminded him that he wore his garments, and that they were supposed to be sacred and private. This pretty well ruined the moment. He straightened himself upright and took me home. Sometimes having the church dictating my life came in handy.