The Boy is Yours!

She thought I was a home wrecker. I tried to explain,

“No, ya see… I was bored. And when the idea came to my head I didn’t have time to stop the words from coming out. It’s been a problem my whole life and I’m sorry. I don’t even know who he is. I promise. He’s all yours.”

She wanted to believe me but she had this slight reserve in her face that said, ‘I’m still suspicious.’

You’re probably wondering , ‘What hussie thing did you do , Hannah?’

t was not bad AT ALL! It was more like a Wholesome Hussie thing to do. I’ll explain.

So we’re sitting in Relief Society ( I know. Relief Society. You're already disappointed) and I’m just slumped in my chair because it’s the same room for Sunday school right before this and I was just feeling a little mundane. And sometimes with feeling mundane… total apathy accompanies it and there’s no telling what you’ll do to get out of it. Boredom and apathy can be a scary combo – especially at church.

So the stage seating is getting packed with girls and we’re about ready to start Relief Society. First there’s announcements, a song, a prayer, a second set of announcements that missed the first go round, then good news minute and a welcoming of any new members or visitors.
My attention span was hanging on by a thread and I don’t think I had even had the ambition this time to move my head around to look at each person as they announced themselves as ‘new or visitor’. (Usually I’m not so anti –social, it was just an off –day I tell ya) But selectively, my ears caught this,

“Oh you’re just visiting today but not in our ward?”

“No I’ll just be here every now and then.”
Her friend speaks up and says, “She’s engaged!”

(audience gasps)

“Oh you’re engaged to someone in our ward? Who is he?”

“Stephen Oswell”

ME: “Dang it!” (Really really loudly, might I add)

And then we all laughed, like I was hoping they would.

Except for - the fiancé.

Actually, except for the majority of the small corner she was sitting in. The laughing people versus non laughing people was almost like setting their group apart as a gang or “the cool girls’ lunch table.” And I had gone from being invisible to quite a high profile. I was feeling very noticed.

I turned my head to smile back at them as if to say, ‘Jay Kay. Jay kay. You may laugh out loud.’ But she was not havin it.
She was still trying to decide if this was something to be on defense about.

I felt bad, but assumed that someone who was sitting within talking range of her would explain that it was meant to be funny.

‘Aw well. ‘ I thought. The class went on, we sang the closing song, we gave the prayer and I was out of there. I had already forgotten about my home wrecking comment and I was off to a meeting . The bishop was a little late coming in and then he asked during the meeting,

“Hannah , do you know Stephen Oswell?”

Respoding quickly, “Me?! No, I really don’t. I promise. I don’t even know who he is.”

That was all he asked. Thank goodness.

I was hesitant the rest of the meeting. I knew that I would have to talk to that girl and tell her that I didn’t even know that a Stephen Oswell was in our ward. Ugh. So much for trying to spice up my Sabbath. This girl was probably a whole five fingers younger than me and I’d have prove to her that some graduated girl living in Provo but not in school anymore was NOT trying to steal anyone’s guy. Does anyone have any ideas on how to prove that in dignified words? Me neither. You just have to take it in stride my friends.

Side note: At anytime you tell someone that you live in Provo, but don’t go to BYU, they will sentence you to a silently understood verdict, ‘she’s out to find a husband.’

Don’t even try to tell them, “I got a job here… I have family here…. uh I'm still here because the economy is bad??“ Nope. You are wasting your time. The judgment has been made and the smirk on their face is irreversible. And ya know, maybe that’s the graduated Provo dweller’s own fault. I just don’t know anymore. Because those two things define you now. The ceiling is LOW, and it is hard to break.

Back to the story.

I find her. I tell her. But as you first read, it didn’t go THAT well.
A few weeks later, I’m at an apartment and a guy walks in and we get introduced.

“Stephen this is Hannah.” I had forgotten.. but he hadn’t.

Exhausted sounding, he asked, “ Are you the one who talked to my fiancé about not even knowing who I am?”

Digging my finger tips into my eye sockets, “I am SO sorry.”

The automatic song for today: The Girl Is Mine - Michael Jackson

Correction! Kathleen (a more modern day pop culturist) has enlightened me greatly! I knew there was a song that was better for this but I thought it was by Mariah Carey and finally gave up on trying to find it and just used Michael Jacksons. But clearly,, this one is MUCH more fitting.

The Boy is Mine - Brandy and Monica