Welcome to part three in how the moosh came to be.
Well, now that you know about my sordid past, you should know that there is no way that Cody and I should have ever ended up together.
While he was all
I was all
and while he was all
I was all
I knew nothing about this boy except that he worked at Radio Shack, his name was Cody and he made my heart go pitter patter.
And then he showed up at my house in this.
I know right?
I hated big trucks. Little guy syndrome, must be compensating for something, you know the type.
After hurling myself into the beast of a truck we decided on a place to eat and the awkward chatter started.
“So, why were you in New York?”
“That’s where I served my mission.”
(Internal dialogue) MISSION? MISSION! You’re a MORMON? I don’t go out with Mormons, especially ones that just got back from missions! That means you take this whole religion thing seriously. I SHAVED FOR NOTHING!
(External dialogue) “Oh. Huh. Where are you from?”
“Vernal” (A small town in Eastern Utah that just happens to sound a lot like an STD)
At this point he was lucky I couldn’t afford to feed myself and actually needed him to take me out to dinner.
Dinner was awkward, apparently I swore a lot. I had pancakes, he had biscuits and gravy.
We then rented a movie and headed back to his apartment.
As soon as he opened his front door the first thing I saw was an ENORMOUS PICTURE OF CHRIST ABOVE HIS COUCH.
What’s WITH these religious people?
Strike five was the other ENORMOUS picture of Christ praying above his tiny single bed.
This boy wanted a wife, he wanted babies, a white picket fence, he wanted everything I wasn’t.
But then he held my hand.
If I’ve ever had butterflies in my life it was at that moment.
He didn’t try anything, he walked me to my door.
He was a perfect gentleman.
I remember shutting the door and thinking “There is no way this could ever work.”
But I couldn’t wait for him to call again.
And he did.
To be continued….