Monday, January 31, 2011


And then there was Chikyle...
I  have this issue with attracting people from Sandy, Utah. Boys from Sandy seem to be a strange strain of human, who just don’t quite get it. (Well at least the ones that I meet.)
I actually met Chikyle the exact same night that I met 18 Hour Date Guy. Ironic, right?
Chikyle wasn’t very nice to me that night. As I was following Cutie Patootie around and looking at his hot motorcycle, Chikyle kept making jokes that alluded to him thinking that I was dumb or something. I really do not appreciate it when people treat me as if my hair color or the pitch of my voice reduce my IQ to a low functioning number. I will probably be very sarcastic back to you, or even throw down a slightly rude comment- so slight and dripping so thick with sarcasm, that you don’t even know that I am making fun of you.
          Clearly, the rest of that evening was monopolized by 18 Hour Date Guy’s pursuits after me. However, I met Chikyle again. And again.

The Sunday following THE 18 HOUR DATE, I had a really rough day. I was damaged to my core from the night before, and the rest of that day did nothing but aggravate my unstable state. As I walked down the steps at church after leading the music to the congregation, I was approached by 4 old men- the ecclesiastical leaders of my area. Each of them said almost the exact same thing so me, “Thank you so much for leading the music. Did you know that you have the most beautiful, perfect smile? You are just gorgeous- You really just glow up there!”
My reply: “Thank you. Yes I have heard that before.”
I know… I probably sounded a little full of myself, but I really didn’t know what to say to all of them over and over again. I felt very uncomfortable and even a little ill.I felt like I needed to hide and not be stared at for a second longer.

About 18 steps later, a boy jumps in front of me and asks, “So when are we going to make cookies together?” I really didn’t know who he was, nor did I know when I agreed to bake with him.
So I asked, “When did I agree to make cookies with you?”
He proceeded to explain that one time we talked for a second and he mentioned that I should make cookies and deliver them to manufacture opportunities to meet more people.
I scheduled a time with him for a couple days later in order to escape the close proximity of our bodies.
I made it about 20 more steps to the doorway of the meeting room, and then there was Chikyle. He stopped me, said hi, and struck up a casual conversation. One of my roommates had been following me through my walk and had thankfully stopped for this conversation.
I, naturally, was oh so charming and I just sparkled away. He followed me to my little Sunday school class and sat down next to me.
At one point, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to replay from a text. As I started to put it away, he snatched it from my grasp and pulled the whole, “call myself from your phone so that I can get your number and not have to be a man and ask for it.”
          He preceded to text me throughout the class, even though he was sitting so close to me that all of our limbs were touching. The type of text messages that I was receiving went something like this: “Oh my gosh you are so gorgeous. Did you know that? Thanks for sitting by me. Wow you are so funny. What are you doing later? I want to take a cutie thing like you out sometime. I wish I was with you right now. This would be way more interesting if you were here and teaching.  Hey… babe, hun, cutie, sweetie…” These distasteful purging of all icky-ness went on throughout the day. Plus also… I hate being called pet names by people who I don't love. I am not your baby, your sweetie, and I am most definitely not your love. I just puked in my mouth a little.

          I had a huge melt down. I got home from church and I started to cry- a lot.  My roommates worried about my mental health as I sat on the kitchen counter and had a panic attack.
          I called my mom and all she did was laugh at me. I filled her in on the night before with 18 Hour Date Guy, and then this day full of old men and lost boys.
I told her that I didn’t understand why I was attracting these kinds of people and that kind of negative attention. I explained that I had been praying to be led to people that would make me a better person and who would build me up etc.

She just burst out into uncontrollable, rolling laughter. Then she spit out these fateful words through her gasping laughter, “Maybe that is why you are meeting these lost boys. Maybe they are making you a better person?”  Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.
I cried even harder and yelled a nice, big, “Oh my gosh mom! Shut up! That was so mean. I can’t believe you just said that to me! I. Hate. My. Life! This isn’t a joke!”
          She laughed harder, but tried to force out a fake apology.
           I blamed her for my life. She branded me with the label of Wendy and bred me to believe that I had to always say yes to a first date and be lovely all the time!
She felt no remorse.
       Chikyle did not disappear from my life even though I declined an invitation to go and play games with him and his hipster friends that night. It was progress though people. I didn’t go even though “the nice thing” would have been to just go and play a little game.
      A few days later, I got a text from Chikyle asking me what I was up to. I told him the truth- My friend Brittani was coming over and we were going to jump in the hot tub and vent about life.
    He mentioned that he might stop by my apartment and say hi. I just said ok, thinking Brittani and I wouldn’t even be there and I could easily get rid of him if he did show up. Brittani rolled in and it started to snow. We sat in my apartment and chatted, while we contemplated going in the hot tub even though it was snowing in April. I kept getting texts from Chikyle. He was confusing me with his comments. I thought he lived pretty close me and he might just drive on over and poke his head in.
Around ten that night he mentioned that the bus was just about to pull up to the stop near my neighborhood. BUS?!?!? I then asked where he was coming from. Sandy. At that point I didn’t know he was from Sandy. 18 Hour Date Guy was from Sandy and so were all his creepy little friends who made me feel like I needed to wear more clothing.

I had a panic attack again. Brittani watched as I ran around mumbling loudly, “Oh no! Sandy!  Crap! He took a bus from Sandy? Ah! It is already so late. How do I get rid of a guy quickly who took a us from Sandy and it is snowing outside?”
   Brittani laughed at me a lot, but provided a needed support when Chikyle finally burst through my door.  Brittani stayed by my side on the couch for about an hour or so. She was also charming and nice and helped me facilitate conversation. We had made a plan that I would simply say to him, “Hey I have a bunch of stuff to do. Thanks for stopping by- I’ll see you again sometime.”
I realized that I had a serious problem. I simply can’t tell people to “get the heck out of my house”, or “Thanks, but no thanks. I really am not interested.”
Brittani was sick of watching me suffocate myself with the situation. She made her escape. I walked her out to her car and she gave me a quick pep talk. She is very supportive. I was just going to march in there and kick him out.

So I marched. And then I…. sat down and talked. However, I didn’t give up on my mission quite yet! I gave it another 10 minutes, threw out a little yawn, and told him that I was super tired and I had a few things to do before I needed to go to bed. I had a patient at 8 A.M. you know!

He kept talking… and talking… and talking. And then he would try to tickle me. Yes.
And that is where he crossed the line. Don’t tickle me. I get violent and lose control over my limbs. I think I warned him that if he didn’t stop, he would get hurt. (I had head-butted a friend once on accident while being tickled.- If he got head-butted that night- it wouldn’t have been an accident.)  
     He made a comment of something like, “So you are trying to kick me out egh? Well I am not leaving yet. I just got here, and I don’t want to go over to my friends’ house. I would WAAAAY rather be here with you.”

Oh now… isn’t THAT flattering?! (puke)

          I don’t remember all of the conversation the rest of that night, but I do remember my facial expressions. Facial expressions like that get burned into your muscle memory and you never forget. These expressions were those of pure shock, discomfort, and abhorrence.
However, one of the topics that was discussed was that he didn’t go on a mission. He was shipped out to Utah to live with his sister so that he could get out of trouble, move out of his rebellious stage, and clean up his life.
         Really? Why on earth do boys feel like they need to tell me how messed up they are? I really don’t want your dysfunction dripping onto my couch. Wipe that up before it makes a mess in my life.

        My roommates kept a close eye on me and would sit down every once in awhile in order to not leave me feeling abandoned. At midnight, they gave me “the eyes”. The ones that say, “girl, get him the heck out of here. We hate him. Do you want me to cut him for you? Even if you don’t, I am going to anyways, because I want him gone that badly.”
You know… “THE eyes”. 
So I did it. I pulled all my guts to the surface and I said it, “Ok Chikyle, get out of my apartment. You really need to go now.” (Of course I said it in the sweetest possible way.)

He whined with a, “Are you serious? Oh come on! We are having so much fun babe!”
Ummm…. No.
“Nope, Chikyle. Seriously, it’s time to scram.”
He packed up his backpack with his life in stow, and I pushed him out the door.

      Luckily, I never let Chikyle back into my house or even saw him in that kind of social situation again.
         However, to this day, I still get random texts from Chikyle asking, “Hey babe. How you doin’?”
         Oh Chikyle! Get yourself a Tiger Lily or something.


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