To whet your appetite

The night after our 4-wheeling escapade, my cell phone rang. I went to answer it but no call was coming through. Wierd, I thought. A few minutes later, it rang again. And again, no call. I handed the phone to my roommate and asked if she knew what was going on. She pointed to the flashing envelope symbol and told me I had a text message.

"Text message? What's that?"

I typically consider myself pretty technically saavy, but text messenging was still on the horizon when I got my first cell phone. Jeff, on the other hand, worked in the mobile phone industry and was very familiar with the ins and outs of cellular technology. Ten minutes later, my roommate and I had finally figured out how to open the message:

What's UR favorite flower?

Huh? Why is Jeff asking about my favorite flower? Is he going to get me flowers? What is my favorite flower? I don't know what to respond! I don't know HOW to respond! What does this mean? How do you use this dang thing?

Another ten minutes and several instruction manuals later, I was ready to compose a response. My mind was working overtime to come up with the perfect reply.

What should I say? Roses? Too unoriginal.
Lilies? I'm not even sure I know what lillies look like.
Carnations? Yuck.

I really don't have much of a favorite flower. I like all flowers. Anything pretty. I still don't understand why he is asking about flowers anyway. One evening out certainly doesn't merit flowers. My roommate's favorite flower is Gerber daisies. I agree, they are very pretty, but she's already claimed favorites on them. But regular daisies, the plain white kind, like the boquet Tom Hanks brings to Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail...

So I responded:

daisies

I waited impatiently by my phone for a reply, but none came. The rest of the week I came home from class each afternoon almost expecting to see a boquet of daisies sitting by my door, but each afternoon my doorstep was empty aside from the occasional flyer advertising Starving Student cards. To protect my pride, I began to tell myself that any interest I thought Jeff had shown me was my imagination. Once he had gotten me in a one-on-one situation, he realized I wasn't all that interesting and was now scoping the playing field for other options.

In the meantime, I satisfied my girlish daydreams on another of the male species. He was also in our ward--in fact, he lived just one floor up from Jeff--and though we'd never spent any time alone, he seemed to enjoy my company and I enjoyed his. The fling with Jeff, new as it was, had given me new confidence and I felt sure I could procure a date with boy #2 if I put my mind to it. Saturday was the ward Halloween dance. I knew both guys would be there. I decided to do a little eyelash-batting at both that night to see who would take the bait. If Jeff really had put me to the test and I had failed, Halloween would let me know. And if that were the case, at least I had someone else to immediately turn my attentions to.

Now I just had to find the perfect costume...

to be continued.