Pretty Blonde - Part 1

Last summer, I went to a fund raising event held at a church.  The organizers were raising money for battered women support services and the event was to consist of a live band playing swing dancing music.  At this point, I should mention that I'm a big fan of swing dancing and have been dancing for about two years.  Well, after many awkward dances with beginners on the crowded dance floor, I took a seat to take a break.  A pretty blonde girl walked up to me and asked me to dance and I said yes.  We chatted a bit during the dance:

Me:  Thanks for asking me.  Do you dance often?
PrettyBlonde:  You don't remember, do you?  We've danced before.
Me:  (stares blankly as I perform a swing out)  Uh....Wait!  Yes, I remember you.  We met last year at another dance venue.
PrettyBlonde:  Yes, that's right!
Me:  Well, I've danced with so many pretty girls, I couldn't possibly remember them all!
PrettyBlonde:  (produces what sounds like a genuine laugh to me)

Now, an even better pseudonym for PrettyBonde would be PrettyAndSmartBlonde.  That's not to say that blondes can't be smart, but the girl here is quite educated as well as beautiful.  She had gone to university to study electrical engineering and, upon graduation, worked as a high school teacher.  After a few years, she realized that her true passion was for music, specifically, choral conducting.  That led to her moving over to my part of the country to pursue a music degree at the local bible college.  The main reason I (eventually) remembered her was because she had told me that she was the youngest child and had four older brothers, to which I replied, I feel sorry for the guys you bring home!

Fast forward back to the charity dancing event.  After our dance, we chatted about work, school, and faith.  I'm a total sucker for a pretty smile, and this girl has one that is absolutely stunning.  I sensed a genuine desire on her part to continue the conversation with me.  In fact, after a friend of hers interrupted our conversation and PrettyBlonde shifted the conversation towards her, I took this as a sign that she was not interested in me in that way, so I excused myself, and went back to the dance floor.  However, later on, she found me again and said "Now where were we?" and we continued chatting.

Towards the end of the night, I decided to take a risk and ask for her contact info.  Normally, I like to ask for a girl's digits after seeing each other a few more times at social gatherings.  That way, she'll have had some time to see that I've scored sufficiently low enough on the Creepy-Weirdo-Stalker Index for her to feel safe to give me her contact info.  However, I reasoned that since we have already gone more than a year without bumping into each other again, I decided to take a risk...sort of:

Me:  So...are you on Facebook?  Can I add you?
PrettyBlonde:  Sure.
Me:  Don't worry, I'm not a stalker.
PrettyBlonde:  (100 MW smile) I wouldn't be giving you my info if I thought you were.

She writes her full name on a blue napkin and hands it to me.  Success!  Score one for the good guys.

When I got home that night, I got onto Facebook immediately and punched in her name.  Hmm...185 people on Facebook with the same name as PrettyBlonde's.  I frantically scrolled through every one and NONE of them looked like her.  In fact, none of them were even in the same area as me.  Some random thoughts that went screaming through my head:

1. She gave me a fake name because I had something hanging from my nose the whole night.
2. Or...maybe she had set her privacy settings so that I couldn't search for her...and just forgot to tell me?
3. All of the above.
   

What a horrible way to come down from a euphoric high, eh?  Now, there was a time in my life in which I would have just slouched off and just assumed that she wasn't into me.

But no more.

This past year, I've really sensed that I need to start realizing my value.  And that goes for all of you reading this, if any.  Jesus was willing to die for me.  FOR ME.  FOR YOU.  That gives me value.  My self-worth does not come from the size of my pay cheque or the car I drive, or, in this case, what some pretty girl thinks of me, but rather what Christ did for all of us on the cross.  What do I have to fear?  Is PrettyBlonde somehow in less need of grace and forgiveness than I am?  This recent realization has led me to live a more fearless life for God.  Take some chances, right?

Screw this!  I'm not going to back down so easily!  Let's pull a John Eldridge and pursue the beauty.  I want to ask her out.  She had mentioned that she played on the worship team of this church that I know of.  Even though the church is out of my way, I decided to pay a visit the following Sunday...