Boys are annoying. This isn’t the world’s best kept secret. We all know this.
(My apologies, male readership.)
Boys are especially annoying when they’re boys we have a crush on. And boys are even MORE annoying when we: 1.) Have a crush on them, 2.) We’re texting them—and 3.) They don’t. Text. Back.
WHY boys do this—WHY they insist on “being distracted”/”doing chores”/”helping old ladies cross the street” when they could be having a fantastic conversation with miraculous, God’s-gift-to-earth creatures like you and me, is beyond my comprehension. Why, boys? WHY.
“So, Rebekah, what are you doing later?” Daniel asks me.
The clock on my phone reads 9:45pm. I squint at Daniel like he’s lost his mind. “What do you mean later?”
I blink three times, slowly. I planned on scurrying home and brewing a fresh mug of chamomile. I planned on stretching out the tendonitis in my wrists and wishing the cat sweet dreams. I planned on tidying my shoes and checking the status of my teeth. I planned on saying my prayers.
This was about the point I realized: I am a twenty-something grandma.
In this day and age, it’s hard to get through a twenty-four hour period without hearing the word “social.” Social media. Social distancing. Socialize.
But what about those who lack the basic requirements of socialization? What about those who have quarantined for so long that they’ve forgotten how to socialize with their fellow man?
That’s where this post comes in.
Socializing is a stressful, somewhat life-threatening factor, necessary to human existence. Let’s get that out of the way. No matter if you’re shy, introverted, or don’t have a tongue, if the waitress at Denny’s asks if you need ketchup, you need to be able to answer her effectively, politely, and without coming off as a psychopath.
For Bryce and my anniversary this year, we took the town by storm.
Literally, there was a freak storm.
But it didn’t keep us from enjoying our weekend. We packed the car, threw on some extra layers, ran to Walmart (because neither of us owned an umbrella), and headed out to Balboa Island for a beautiful day of quirky shops and beachfront views.
Neither of us had ever been there, so my parents gave me the lowdown of where to take Bryce for dinner and ice cream and what places to see.
It was a regular Sunday afternoon. I was in church.
CHURCH, MIND YOU. CHURCH! GOD’S HOUSE.
It was after choir practice and I was helping put music away. I had my precious, immaculate, white, brand-new iPhone XR in my hand. I placed it on a bench, along with my music folder, and turned away briefly to kneel down and grab a stack of music off the floor.