Singles

After a dozen phone calls back and forth to the gas company, I hung up the phone that morning with the knowledge that the repairman would not be coming for at least another week. With a long day of nothing but writing ahead of me, and no visitors, I chose not to get dressed. I did not bother brushing my hair. I did, however, brush my teeth, because I do have some standards.

The night before had been a tough one. I had been dating a great guy for several months. It was a casual relationship with a lot of potential. I only have very positive things to say about this man. But our date the day before had made it pretty obvious we had reached the end of our relationship. We had broken up amicably, but that didn’t stop me from spending an hour or two crying, and wondering why my relationships never work out. Was it me? Was it him? What went wrong this time?

I had little sleep, a tear-stained face, puffy eyes, a bad case of bedhead, flannel pajamas, and no bra on, when someone knocked on the door. I could not have looked worse, but I had no choice but to answer the door in my state of disgrace. Much to my surprise a fairly good-looking man, with a clean buttoned-down shirt, and hipster glasses awaited me. He handed me his ID card and explained he was with the gas company, and had come to do the needed repairs. (Yes, the repairs I had been told just minutes before would be at least another week away.)

I knew I looked awful, but honestly, I was too tired, emotionally exhausted, and frustrated with the gas company to care. However, I still noted that the man didn’t even check me out. He did look at me like he thought I might have the plague. I pointed him in the right direction and closed and locked the front door.

I ran to the bathroom to make myself presentable. A two minute shower (hence the reason I locked the door- I didn’t want him accidentally coming in while I showered), a quick change of clothes, brushed my hair, etc. I wasn’t trying to look good, just alive. I saw my favorite t-shirt on the floor and put it on. It seemed appropriate for the girl who had had her heartbroken the day before. The shirt has a cartoon image of a boy and a girl sitting in front of a sunrise. The caption below reads, “Say something awkward. Lean in for a kiss.” The implication that the girl or the boy in the picture would chose one of those options. The “Say something awkward” option is highlighted. As the girl who felt like a relationship pariah, the shirt seemed like a good idea at the time.

A few minutes later the man knocked again and I went to go help him, now complete with clothing and brushed hair. He looked at me strangely. “Is your mom here? I need to get her to sign this work order.”

My mom? Why would he want to talk to my mom? It took a second for his request to fully dawn on me. “Oh! No, my mom doesn’t live here. That was me you talked to before. I just changed my clothes.” (And put on undergarments, brushed my hair, and washed my face.)

The man looked me up and down with nothing but doubt on his face. “That was you before?”

“Yeah…” Wanting the conversation not to go any further down that road I took the work order from him and began to review it.

I was about halfway through the third line of things that made no sense to me when he said, “Do you like to do things?”

I raised one very skeptical eyebrow at him, and yet tried hard not to make eye contact. “Uh, do things?

“Like go out or eat?”

Was he taking pity on me? Did he think I was some pathetic old maid shut-in? Was he going to call social services to report me? Did I look that bad??

Completely confused at the turn in the conversation I realized that there was nothing about this man that passed as a believable gas repairman. His shirt didn’t have his name on it, he didn’t have a uniform on, and for that matter, I didn’t see a company truck out front. Not to be too rude, but he just didn’t look the part.

He was very clean cut, almost upper class, and like I said, decent looking. Not that gas repairmen can’t be good looking, but generally, they don’t look and dress like the just stepped out of a J. Crew catalog. For a brief moment I got nervous. He looked pretty nervous too. But before I could start to back away or ask for his credentials, my phone rang. (I conveniently had it in my hand.) It was the gas company calling to tell me that there was a serviceman in my area, and he would be stopping by very soon. They gave me his name, which I quickly verified on the work order in front me.

Saved by the phone from his curious question, I never answered him. I asked him a few questions about the leaky gas line. “So what you are saying is the house is not going to blow up?”

“Right, I’ve secured it, and there is no more leak. Do you like music?” This repairman really had no trouble getting off topic, I noted.

“Sure, who doesn’t like music? Music is good!” Stupid question. Does anyone ever say no? But I needed to look like I wasn’t a shut-in. “So you’ve turned off the gas, but you didn’t repair the leak?”

“Right, the leak is in the house, so you’ll have to call someone else for that. But I have turned off the gas, so you won’t blow up or die today. I know a lady who plays the washboard downtown,” he explained.

I tried not to make eye contact again. “The washboard, eh?” I tried to be polite, after all, this is the country. Washboard playing does still happen out here in the boondocks- but usually at country fairs, not downtown. And who knows? Maybe he had inhaled a little too much gas while fixing my leak?

“Yeah, she’s really good. It’s not normal at all.” (You can say that again.) “She has lots of kinds of washboards and she plays them with household objects and different body parts.” I was impressed how he managed to say this all while being so good-looking and keeping a straight face. It could not have been easy.

“Huh. Interesting.” What else was I supposed to say? Did he think I was that weird that I’d know about ladies with washboards? I quickly caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass door. I could still see sleep lines across my still puffy, red cheeks.

“Would you like to go hear her play with me sometime? She serves food too.”

I nearly gave myself whiplash turning my head so fast to look at him.

---

Huh? What? Why? Hold on. He wasn’t about to call social services! He was hitting on me! “Um, well, I, uh…” Did he really just ask me to go see a lady play the washboard with her body parts??

I pulled myself together just enough to lie to his face. “I’m flattered, but I’m seeing someone.” Okay, not really. We broke up less than 12 hours ago. There was no way I was going to say yes to this guy. I didn’t even know his name, nor did he know mine. Well, except I guess it was on the work order, but that’s beside the point. I don’t go out with complete and total strangers. And I sure as heck don’t accept invitations to washboards and body parts. Not to mention, the food I envisioned her serving probably came from a trash can or something. No, no, there was no way this was really happening to me. None of it.

He shrugged and didn’t look all that disappointed. “I didn’t think you would say yes. It’s a little creepy to be asked out like this I am sure. But for what it is worth, I have to be bonded to have this job. I just thought from your shirt you might be the kind of girl who likes to do things.”

MY SHIRT? My very nerdy shirt that I bought from a website with the work “geek” in the title?? My completely awkward t-shirt that mocks my own relationship skills gave him the impression that maybe I like to “do things?” (I still have no idea what “do things” might entail.)

“Oh, my shirt. Okay…” Allow me to prove my awkwardness with an awkward response.

“I just got out of an eight year relationship, and I’m looking for my next one.” He was nothing if not forthright and honest, not to mention bonded, so I suppose criminal conviction free, too.

“Eight years, really? How long ago did you break up?” Why I continued the conversation I do not know.

“Last week.”

All I could think was that I was mourning the loss of my non-committed, long-distance, not serious, several months relationship longer than he was his eight year relationship! “Wow, that must be tough.”

“No.” It was apparently his turn for awkward comments. “I would like to get married to the next woman I date. Do you want to get married?”

I should explain here that the night before my non-committed, long-distance, not serious relationship had ended when he said he didn’t know if he would ever be able to give me what I want. This was news to me, because I didn’t know what I wanted from him. We had (have) a great friendship and enjoy each other’s company a great deal. But he’s just not sure if marriage is ever going to be in the picture. I had spent a great deal of time crying the night before over the fact that I have dated way too many men in a row who have claimed they aren’t sure if marriage is something they want, and that they can’t give me what I want (even though I’ve never told them what I want), just for him to go off and marry the very next girl he dates. (Want to marry your son off? Send him my way. A few months of dating me, and he’ll rush off to marry someone else!)

So there I was, the memory of the night before a little too fresh in my mind, with a very good-looking, complete stranger on my doorstep, explaining how he would like to get married, and inviting me to hear a washboard. Oh and he thought I was quality material because I was wearing a t-shirt that said, “say something awkward.”

For a good split-second or so, I thought, “Maybe this is the answer to my prayers last night? Maybe this is about to be one of those amazing love stories where the man falls in love at first sight, and proposes to the girl before even knowing her name, and she is overwhelmed by the Spirit, and says yes!” So I waited for another split-second for some sort of sign from God that this was an epic love story.

He- the gas repairman- burped.

And that was all the sign I needed.

 

Erin Ann McBride is the author of “,” and “,” both available on and Barnes and Noble. She has recently launched a new website to help self-published and commercially published LDS authors reach their audiences directly. Check out E-Books by Mormon Authors to find the latest books from your favorite writers!