I was so inspirational last week as I challenged all of you to start saying yes that I actually took my own advice. Y’all, I said yes this week, and it blew up in my face.
Saying yes is gutsy. It’s daring. It’s brave. It’s all the words I would never typically use to describe myself. I’m not daring — I’m dramatic. I’m not brave as much as I’m impetuous. But, embrace the yes has become my mantra, and I’m determined to live it out, even if it costs me a few therapist visits and a couple thousand calories of comfort food in the process.
Saying Yes to a Man in Uniform
As I was moving into my apartment over the weekend, the Comcast guy shows up looking pretty handsome. Now, I’m not usually the kind of girl that likes to hit on poor, unsuspecting cable guys, but it’s the year of yes! So we chatted while he plugged in a bunch of cords and tried to explain their purpose. Casey (now affectionately called Comcast Casey) seemed very knowledgeable in his trade and always wiped his feet at the door—great potential husband signs.
Toward the end of the appointment, we started talking about TV shows we each enjoyed, and we spent about 15 minutes comparing notes on our favorites. As he’s leaving, he stops to jot down his personal cell number, “just in case there are any problems.”
Now listen, I’m not very experienced in the dating world, but I know a sign when I see one. And that, my friends, is a sign. So I waited the appropriate amount of time (7.4 hours), and feeling filled with the Spirit, I texted to ask him out. Then I started sweating profusely and praying.
The next morning I received his response: “Hey, if I was single I would go out with you in a heartbeat. You are really sexy and fun to talk to, but unfortunately I’m in a relationship so I can’t. It was really great meeting you though!”
What. I did all the right things! I fluttered my eyelashes and made conversations with a stranger! I read the signs! I said yes!
And he said no. And sometimes that happens. I feel like it’s also important to mention here that if you’re passing out your cell number to single females, and then when they contact you, you let them down gently by calling them sexy, that’s going a bit far in the name of customer service.
After getting over my shame and convincing myself it had nothing to do with my lack of makeup or newly shortened hair, I washed off the remnants of my embarrassed tears—and then I realized I actually felt pretty proud of myself. I took a risk, I asked out a strange boy—and he said no. And that’s okay.
Especially because I’m getting Chinese food delivered tonight. Two times a charm, right?