Come to Jesus

Yikes! The first blog post. This, by far, has got to be the scariest of ALL the blog posts. “Why?” You ask. Because this is our introduction, my first interview, if you will. I’ve gone to JCPenny (they have cute stuff; I’m telling you!), picked out my most professional, yet stylish attire, gotten a haircut, polished my nails, put my resume in a brand new spiffy folder, run through a few practice interviews with friends (which only freaked me out more by the way), and now it’s the moment of truth. Will I choke? Will I have sweaty palms during that all-important handshake? Will I forgot to be myself and turn into Robot Jenna who’s not nearly as entertaining as Robot Chicken and resort to one-word answers? Or will I dazzle you with my brilliance and leave you begging for more? Yeesh! Talk about pressure.

So how do I pop the lid on this Dutch oven? (Somewhere a frat boy just giggled) By doing what “the experts” say and sticking with what I know, and what do I know better than anybody – bad dates and weird dudes. It’s true. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with, well, let’s just call them “interesting characters.” It’s like I have a magnet in me that only attracts guys with issues. Fortunately for you, these years of tragic, therapy inducing interactions have produced loads of material which I hope you’ll find as entertaining as I have, and maybe, just maybe by dumping these horror stories out onto the page we’ll both learn something, and if nothing else, I won’t have to pay some would-be therapist thousands of dollars just to ultimately tell me my childhood is to blame.

Disclaimer Time: Before we can begin, I have to address the fact that some of you, who may be reading this, may, at some point, be the topic of discussion; it’s only natural. Now take a minute and let the color return to your face because here comes the good news – names will be changed. Here’s why:

A: Because I’m not a mean girl who wants to disparage the reputation of others. In fact, I hope you fine gentleman will experience some much-needed growth when all is said and done.

B: Because I’m protecting my lilywhite butt from getting sued, and

C: Because, well, it’s just so darn fun making up fictional names.

The bad news - my Facebook friend number my go down, but let’s face it, we weren’t that close to begin with anyway.

Now that all the legal jargon is out of the way, we can start the fun. So who’s first? Why it’s Mr. Holier Than Thou.

Allow me to setup the scene. I’m 18-years-old, still living at home with mom, dad and my three brothers, completely lost about what I want to do with my life (some things never change), going to school part-time at the local JC and working at the hippest, hottest place at that time –The Macaroni Grill. I was a hostess and he was busboy.

Lesson one: An obvious lesson, but one that can often slip our minds – never judge a book by its cover. Dreadlocks, pants that hung down too low, trendy glasses which he probably didn’t even need and a certain swagger that certainly didn’t say “I’m a holy roller.”He was half white, half black and half Puerto Rican. Yeah, the math didn’t add up to me either; as my friends say, he was “a man and a half,” or at least he thought he was. Mr. Holier Than Thou, himself.

Why he was attracted to me, I’ll never know. I definitely wasn’t his type. He liked girls that had a few strategically placed arm tattoos, wore black tank tops and burgundy beanies and hung out in the “cool” coffee shops pontificating about life – not this girl. And yet, somehow, I found myself on his radar.

Lesson two: If a guy is pursuing you, but then gives you HIS phone number instead of asking for yours, run the other way! This is sure-fire sign that he thinks he’s da sh#% and will spend the remainder of your time together reiterating this “fact” which is lost on all but him. Case in point: After mistakenly accepting his offer to attend his youth group, not only did he make no effort to sit with me, but he didn’t even attempt to maneuver through the crowd to say hello. !?!?! My thoughts exactly. Is that what Jesus would do? I think not.

The next part of this story I attribute to the fact that I was young and dumb – a theme you’ll notice throughout this blog. For some reason, which to this day I still don’t understand, he asked me out again, and here comes that theme I mentioned – I accepted.

The destination – Chili’s. The conversation – his higher calling to be a missionary and his disdain for those who hadn’t bought enough cookies to fund his upcoming trip to the motherland. Wow. All I could think was God must be shaking his head right now over the idea of this guy being his ambassador.

After about an hour and a half, thank the good Lord, the date had come to an end. Trying to be courteous, I offered to pick up the tip. He hemmed and hawed for all of half a second, but then agreed. So I put down 20% and prepared to leave only to have him pick up my money and one-up me by five dollars. !?!? Apparently, holy rollers tip big and enjoy making their dates feel like cheapskates. The date ended with him leaving his testimony on a paper napkin for the waitress and an awkward hug in the parking lot. Never knew what happened to him after that, but I hope he eventually had his “come to Jesus” moment.

Now it’s your turn. Have you ever dated a Pious Peter? Or a Devout Dan? Feedback is appreciated J.