The Long and Short of it

The Long
Libations in the year ‘04:
1. Three quarters of one beer with a name like Molten Cider Ale or Bear Barley Beer consumed, late June. The name intrigued me at the time, but the taste was pure beer and quickly caught up.

2. Two margaritas poured and consumed at Chez Smith, mid-July. I remember feeling especially warm and pretty.

3. Just a smidge of Finney’s, an Irish liquer, a Bailey’s knock-off, downed with opening ceremonies- a fine chaser to the shrimp and buffalo wings.


Actual verbal contact with unknowns of the opposite sex in ‘04:
1. One tough compliment, circa February, to the CVS girl.
2. A brief conversation with a runner in June following repeated eye-contact.
3. An even briefer caveman-esque conversation with two women in line at King’s Dominion. “Me run. You run? MYUNG”


That’s three drinks and four women in eight months. What you might ask, as I now ask myself, would compel me to ask a woman, “Would you like to go out for drinks?”

I found myself alone in downtown Salt Lake City. When she served me Gelatto, she’d asked if I was from around here. I wasn’t, but suddenly wanted to be. I wandered around mixing my raspberry and chocolate treats in thought. The two flavors went well together and my courage began to grow with each bite. I finished my Italian ice cream and boldly returned to her. She helped the last of the customers after closing time with a smile while I loitered. I loitered with all of the UN-creepiness I could muster. As the last customer left, I stepped toward the counter.

“Back for more?” she asked.
“I couldn’t eat another bite,” I shyly told her, “but I’m in town on business with the AARP. The old folks have gone to bed and I’m not ready to. I was hoping maybe you’d want to show me around.”
“Uh,” she said with the slightest smile and possible discomfort, “there’s not a lot to see.”

I could tell my chances were melting like the rainbow of gelatto between us, so I pulled out the terribly trite but infinitely useful, “Maybe we could go out for drinks?” When I say infinitely useful here, I really mean not so useful.

“I’m Mormon. So I don’t drink.”
At this point I’m backtracking, but not giving up, “I don’t drink much either. I just...”

This tale should be over now, we’ve reached the punchline after all, but somewhere in there it seems a corner has been turned.

I’m stumped when she says, “I’m really into the Olympics. Maybe we could go somewhere to watch.”
“That’d be great,” I say with a shocked grin.

We chitchat a bit while she closes up shop. Katie and David going to watch the Olympics. Already I’m trying to get some conversational questions ready for emergencies. How do I ask about being Mormon?

She counts the money in the cash register and I grow quiet not wanting to break her concentration. I start to fret that I’ve already let the silence lapse into the land of the creepy.

“I need to call home, before we go,” she tells me. Katie continues to close in the back room while on the phone. The phone call goes on for a while. I successfully don’t hear either side as I stand propped against the door trying to take the advice of many a yearbook by staying cool.

Maybe I wasn’t cool. As Katie locks the door, it’s one of those with the locks at the tip top and the very bottom, she says to me, “It’s not that I don’t trust you or think...well I live with my Grandma and I don’t think she’d be happy if I went out after work with someone she didn’t know.”

“I understand,” I tell her trying to conceal disappointment inside complete understanding, I hated the world for it, but I understood.

“Come back Saturday for Gelatto. I work then.”

“I’ll be gone.” And this little scene will be the highlight of my trip. Thanks Katie, for the best rejection I’ve had in a long time.


The short
Boy meets girl.
Boy asks girl out for drinks.
Girl says, “I’m Mormon. I don’t drink.”
Boy, oh boy.