Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Cosmically Cream-Pied, Boy Edition

One Saturday evening a few weeks ago, I spritzed my favorite perfume in my painstakingly curled hair, swished the perfect shade of pink lip gloss on my lips, pulled the corduroy blazer he'd previously complimented me on over my cute floral tank top, and bid my toy poodle goodbye as I walked out the door to meet a lovely young man for dinner.

Don't everyone faint at once, now. My supply of smelling salts is limited.

We were meeting at the restaurant where my best friend is a manager. We'd known each other for more than a month, introduced by my best friend and her husband, but this would be the first time we'd really spent any time just the two of us (and, y'know, everyone else in the restaurant). I was nervous, and excited, and anticipatory, and happy, and, because I'm me...kind of freaking out.

Why, you ask? What, it's not blatantly obvious? Oh. Well, because...because we'd have to do the Awkward Check Dance.

Holy crap.

Now, of course I'd want to pay for myself. No question. I'm an empowered modern woman (whatever that means) and would never expect a man to pay for me. If he wanted to, that'd be incredibly sweet, but it'd be rude to assume it. In fact, I'm more than happy to be as generous with my money as I possibly can. The tip? The dessert I talked him into sharing? It'd be on me. I'd even love to be able to cover the whole thing if I could. I'm just sweet and nice and lovely like that. Ahem.

But I didn't know what he was thinking. I didn't want to offend him. He's a gentleman. (Really.) But I would still offer. But...but...but...ahhh! Lord, help me! No matter what, I knew there would be a moment when It Would Happen. The Awkward Check Dance. Even if it was just one step and not a full waltz. It was inevitable. And I was freaking out.

I started praying almost as soon as I turned the ignition on in the car. Lord. Lord! Help me! Help me help me help me!! Occasionally Matchbox Twenty lyrics would distract me, but soon enough, I'd remember and start again.

And it wasn't even a very long drive.

My prayers (read: cries of desperation) got more frantic the closer I got to the restaurant. Lord! Make it not awkward! Please! You have to make it not be awkward! LORD, HELP ME!!!

When I was five minutes away, muttering like a broken record, God suddenly spoke:

"You don't trust Me at ALL!"

Woah. Um. Oops.

I (pathetically) tried to defend myself. "Yes I do, Lord! Yes I do!"

"No, you DON'T!"

That shut me up in a hurry.

What He said next wasn't as, ahem, audible, but it was still clear: "Wasn't I the one who made this all happen? Trust that I'm going to take care of the details. Just enjoy it."

Well. It was hard to argue with that. He was totally right. (Don't everyone faint at once, now.)

We had an absolutely wonderful evening. When the check came, we were too wrapped up in conversation to even really notice it. And then, as my best friend was walking by our table on her way through the dining room, she grabbed it and brought it back...paid.

I don't think I've ever felt God raising an eyebrow and smirking at me more pointedly than in that moment.

"See...I told you!"

It's a good thing cosmic cream pie is invisible. It would've totally messed up my lip gloss.