I guess the question is always where to begin. Where our story began I’m not really sure. However, since I have to start somewhere, I think it best to start five years ago. I was a student at the B.Y., she was a student at the B.Y. and neither of us could have scarcely known what the next five years would hold.
It was 2005 when I was called by the then primary president of my Salem home ward (who also happened to be my mother) to be the primary teacher for the eleven year old boys. They were a rowdy group I’ll tell you and I don’t know that I actually taught them anything, but one of the boys in the class was named Daniel Quesenberry. I had heard of the family, but I didn’t know anything else except that Daniel talked a lot and was definitely not a teacher favorite.
During this time I went with my brother Speedy Dub (Spencer is his Christian given name) on choir tour as one of the adult chaperones (although I don’t really know that I was very adult). While looking through the bus lists (because I’m responsible like that) I noticed that there was a Quesenberry girl (Lauren by name) who was also supposed to be on the trip. For some reason I had this desire to meet her, but the trip came and went and I never did get the opportunity to wow young Sister Q. with my amazing personality.
Anyway, I returned home, continued teaching those eleven year olds from non-celestialness and went about being my usual single self. Then Christmas break rolled around and I saw for the first time the girl whose name I had only read earlier that year. I saw her come into sacrament meeting and I knew that I had to talk to her. So, during one of the breaks, as she was sitting in the church foyer I mustered up all the courage I could possibly find (which, let’s be honest, wasn’t much) walked up to her and said, “So you go to BYU? How do you like it?” (which was a pretty respectable line right). She looked up at me and said something to the affect of “It’s hard.”
I’m not really sure what I expected in her response, maybe I expected her to confess her undying love right then and there to a person she had never met. But whatever I had expected from her response, I didn’t get it (or maybe it was her tone of voice, I don’t really remember anymore) so I walked off dejected. “I don’t have a chance with her” is all I really remember thinking and thus passed my first encounter with Miss Lauren.
Well, I didn’t have the courage to talk to Lauren after that, but that definitely didn’t stop me from Facebook stalking her from time to time (and yes, it was only from time to time, I promise I wasn’t too creepy). I would go to her profile page and have the following debate in my mind:
Andrew One: I should write her a Facebook message and ask her on a date.
Andrew Two: No, only sissies ask girls on dates through email.
Andrew One: But I really want to go on a date with her.
Andrew Two: No. Besides she might not even know who you are so that would just be weird.
Andrew One: But maybe she does know who I am.
Andrew Two: No. You’re already weird. It’ll be disastrous to be creepy AND weird.
Andrew One: Okay (dejectedly)
Although I can’t tell you exactly how many times that occurred, it was definitely semi-bi-annually. But every time I buckled under the pressure and never actually sent the message.
Then, sometime in the fall of 2007, the perfect opportunity to ask that nice young lady on a date came my way. I was talking to my friend Erin Barker when she said to me, “Guess what Skinny, I have a roommate from Salem.” “Who is it?” I asked. “Lauren Quesenberry.”
When she said that I about passed out. The first thought that passed through my head was “well why don’t you set me up with her” but do you think that I said that. Of course not (story of my life). Again, I buckled under the pressure. I mean, here was the perfect opportunity, but do you think I took advantage of it.
Several weeks later Erin called me and said she wanted to set me up with somebody (and my heart skipped a beat), but instead of wanting to set me up with Lauren, she wanted to set me up with somebody else and again I had the opportunity to say, “You know who I really want to go on a date with?” But again I was a wimp (surprise, surprise) and I continued to live my life of singleness.
Well, some time passed (I imagine this was sometime during the fall of 2008) and I again thought to myself, “I haven’t Facebook stalked Lauren Quesenberry for some time, I’d better go see how she’s doing.” However, when I typed in her name in the search space, I couldn’t find her. “What?” I thought to myself, “This can’t be.” I was somewhat distraught, but I wasn’t to be put off the chase so easily so I continued my search. What I encountered however, was not what I hoped. I found her alright, but to my dismay and horror, she was married. No longer was she Lauren Quesenberry, but she was now Lauren Farrer and I had to acknowledge that my opportunity had passed. And seeing how a wise man once said that I shouldn’t covet my neighbors wife, I logged off and never looked Miss Lauren up again.
Now fast forward to May, 2010. I had been called by one of my church leaders (I don’t remember which) to repentance. I needed to date more. I shouldn’t give up on finding a wife (I had given up by the way, but I figured it never hurts to listen to your leaders). One Sunday, amongst the hundreds that I went to the Salem singles ward, I was sitting there minding my own business when in walked none other than Lauren Quesenberry. I was stunned. Really I was. I thought to myself, “Wait, what’s a married girl doing in a singles ward.” I wondered if she was there to listen to one of her friends speak or something, or maybe, (I was crossing my fingers at the time) she was at the singles ward because she was single. I just didn’t know. At the end of the meeting I got up to talk to her, but she was gone before I could get to her (a familiar refrain right). Was the girl of my dreams single again? I had to know.
To be continued . . .
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
The Story
I guess the question is always where to begin. Where our story began I’m not really sure. However, since I have to start somewhere, I think it best to start five years ago. I was a student at the B.Y., she was a student at the B.Y. and neither of us could have scarcely known what the next five years would hold.
It was 2005 when I was called by the then primary president of my Salem home ward (who also happened to be my mother) to be the primary teacher for the eleven year old boys. They were a rowdy group I’ll tell you and I don’t know that I actually taught them anything, but one of the boys in the class was named Daniel Quesenberry. I had heard of the family, but I didn’t know anything else except that Daniel talked a lot and was definitely not a teacher favorite.
During this time I went with my brother Speedy Dub (Spencer is his Christian given name) on choir tour as one of the adult chaperones (although I don’t really know that I was very adult). While looking through the bus lists (because I’m responsible like that) I noticed that there was a Quesenberry girl (Lauren by name) who was also supposed to be on the trip. For some reason I had this desire to meet her, but the trip came and went and I never did get the opportunity to wow young Sister Q. with my amazing personality.
Anyway, I returned home, continued teaching those eleven year olds from non-celestialness and went about being my usual single self. Then Christmas break rolled around and I saw for the first time the girl whose name I had only read earlier that year. I saw her come into sacrament meeting and I knew that I had to talk to her. So, during one of the breaks, as she was sitting in the church foyer I mustered up all the courage I could possibly find (which, let’s be honest, wasn’t much) walked up to her and said, “So you go to BYU? How do you like it?” (which was a pretty respectable line right). She looked up at me and said something to the affect of “It’s hard.”
I’m not really sure what I expected in her response, maybe I expected her to confess her undying love right then and there to a person she had never met. But whatever I had expected from her response, I didn’t get it (or maybe it was her tone of voice, I don’t really remember anymore) so I walked off dejected. “I don’t have a chance with her” is all I really remember thinking and thus passed my first encounter with Miss Lauren.
Well, I didn’t have the courage to talk to Lauren after that, but that definitely didn’t stop me from Facebook stalking her from time to time (and yes, it was only from time to time, I promise I wasn’t too creepy). I would go to her profile page and have the following debate in my mind:
Andrew One: I should write her a Facebook message and ask her on a date.
Andrew Two: No, only sissies ask girls on dates through email.
Andrew One: But I really want to go on a date with her.
Andrew Two: No. Besides she might not even know who you are so that would just be weird.
Andrew One: But maybe she does know who I am.
Andrew Two: No. You’re already weird. It’ll be disastrous to be creepy AND weird.
Andrew One: Okay (dejectedly)
Although I can’t tell you exactly how many times that occurred, it was definitely semi-bi-annually. But every time I buckled under the pressure and never actually sent the message.
Then, sometime in the fall of 2007, the perfect opportunity to ask that nice young lady on a date came my way. I was talking to my friend Erin Barker when she said to me, “Guess what Skinny, I have a roommate from Salem.” “Who is it?” I asked. “Lauren Quesenberry.”
When she said that I about passed out. The first thought that passed through my head was “well why don’t you set me up with her” but do you think that I said that. Of course not (story of my life). Again, I buckled under the pressure. I mean, here was the perfect opportunity, but do you think I took advantage of it.
Several weeks later Erin called me and said she wanted to set me up with somebody (and my heart skipped a beat), but instead of wanting to set me up with Lauren, she wanted to set me up with somebody else and again I had the opportunity to say, “You know who I really want to go on a date with?” But again I was a wimp (surprise, surprise) and I continued to live my life of singleness.
Well, some time passed (I imagine this was sometime during the fall of 2008) and I again thought to myself, “I haven’t Facebook stalked Lauren Quesenberry for some time, I’d better go see how she’s doing.” However, when I typed in her name in the search space, I couldn’t find her. “What?” I thought to myself, “This can’t be.” I was somewhat distraught, but I wasn’t to be put off the chase so easily so I continued my search. What I encountered however, was not what I hoped. I found her alright, but to my dismay and horror, she was married. No longer was she Lauren Quesenberry, but she was now Lauren Farrer and I had to acknowledge that my opportunity had passed. And seeing how a wise man once said that I shouldn’t covet my neighbors wife, I logged off and never looked Miss Lauren up again.
Now fast forward to May, 2010. I had been called by one of my church leaders (I don’t remember which) to repentance. I needed to date more. I shouldn’t give up on finding a wife (I had given up by the way, but I figured it never hurts to listen to your leaders). One Sunday, amongst the hundreds that I went to the Salem singles ward, I was sitting there minding my own business when in walked none other than Lauren Quesenberry. I was stunned. Really I was. I thought to myself, “Wait, what’s a married girl doing in a singles ward.” I wondered if she was there to listen to one of her friends speak or something, or maybe, (I was crossing my fingers at the time) she was at the singles ward because she was single. I just didn’t know. At the end of the meeting I got up to talk to her, but she was gone before I could get to her (a familiar refrain right). Was the girl of my dreams single again? I had to know.
To be continued . . .
It was 2005 when I was called by the then primary president of my Salem home ward (who also happened to be my mother) to be the primary teacher for the eleven year old boys. They were a rowdy group I’ll tell you and I don’t know that I actually taught them anything, but one of the boys in the class was named Daniel Quesenberry. I had heard of the family, but I didn’t know anything else except that Daniel talked a lot and was definitely not a teacher favorite.
During this time I went with my brother Speedy Dub (Spencer is his Christian given name) on choir tour as one of the adult chaperones (although I don’t really know that I was very adult). While looking through the bus lists (because I’m responsible like that) I noticed that there was a Quesenberry girl (Lauren by name) who was also supposed to be on the trip. For some reason I had this desire to meet her, but the trip came and went and I never did get the opportunity to wow young Sister Q. with my amazing personality.
Anyway, I returned home, continued teaching those eleven year olds from non-celestialness and went about being my usual single self. Then Christmas break rolled around and I saw for the first time the girl whose name I had only read earlier that year. I saw her come into sacrament meeting and I knew that I had to talk to her. So, during one of the breaks, as she was sitting in the church foyer I mustered up all the courage I could possibly find (which, let’s be honest, wasn’t much) walked up to her and said, “So you go to BYU? How do you like it?” (which was a pretty respectable line right). She looked up at me and said something to the affect of “It’s hard.”
I’m not really sure what I expected in her response, maybe I expected her to confess her undying love right then and there to a person she had never met. But whatever I had expected from her response, I didn’t get it (or maybe it was her tone of voice, I don’t really remember anymore) so I walked off dejected. “I don’t have a chance with her” is all I really remember thinking and thus passed my first encounter with Miss Lauren.
Well, I didn’t have the courage to talk to Lauren after that, but that definitely didn’t stop me from Facebook stalking her from time to time (and yes, it was only from time to time, I promise I wasn’t too creepy). I would go to her profile page and have the following debate in my mind:
Andrew One: I should write her a Facebook message and ask her on a date.
Andrew Two: No, only sissies ask girls on dates through email.
Andrew One: But I really want to go on a date with her.
Andrew Two: No. Besides she might not even know who you are so that would just be weird.
Andrew One: But maybe she does know who I am.
Andrew Two: No. You’re already weird. It’ll be disastrous to be creepy AND weird.
Andrew One: Okay (dejectedly)
Although I can’t tell you exactly how many times that occurred, it was definitely semi-bi-annually. But every time I buckled under the pressure and never actually sent the message.
Then, sometime in the fall of 2007, the perfect opportunity to ask that nice young lady on a date came my way. I was talking to my friend Erin Barker when she said to me, “Guess what Skinny, I have a roommate from Salem.” “Who is it?” I asked. “Lauren Quesenberry.”
When she said that I about passed out. The first thought that passed through my head was “well why don’t you set me up with her” but do you think that I said that. Of course not (story of my life). Again, I buckled under the pressure. I mean, here was the perfect opportunity, but do you think I took advantage of it.
Several weeks later Erin called me and said she wanted to set me up with somebody (and my heart skipped a beat), but instead of wanting to set me up with Lauren, she wanted to set me up with somebody else and again I had the opportunity to say, “You know who I really want to go on a date with?” But again I was a wimp (surprise, surprise) and I continued to live my life of singleness.
Well, some time passed (I imagine this was sometime during the fall of 2008) and I again thought to myself, “I haven’t Facebook stalked Lauren Quesenberry for some time, I’d better go see how she’s doing.” However, when I typed in her name in the search space, I couldn’t find her. “What?” I thought to myself, “This can’t be.” I was somewhat distraught, but I wasn’t to be put off the chase so easily so I continued my search. What I encountered however, was not what I hoped. I found her alright, but to my dismay and horror, she was married. No longer was she Lauren Quesenberry, but she was now Lauren Farrer and I had to acknowledge that my opportunity had passed. And seeing how a wise man once said that I shouldn’t covet my neighbors wife, I logged off and never looked Miss Lauren up again.
Now fast forward to May, 2010. I had been called by one of my church leaders (I don’t remember which) to repentance. I needed to date more. I shouldn’t give up on finding a wife (I had given up by the way, but I figured it never hurts to listen to your leaders). One Sunday, amongst the hundreds that I went to the Salem singles ward, I was sitting there minding my own business when in walked none other than Lauren Quesenberry. I was stunned. Really I was. I thought to myself, “Wait, what’s a married girl doing in a singles ward.” I wondered if she was there to listen to one of her friends speak or something, or maybe, (I was crossing my fingers at the time) she was at the singles ward because she was single. I just didn’t know. At the end of the meeting I got up to talk to her, but she was gone before I could get to her (a familiar refrain right). Was the girl of my dreams single again? I had to know.
To be continued . . .
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