I met a really, really cute boy this past Friday. (Smile. Giggle. Blush.) The whole day is such a blur… Maybe I should start from the beginning.
His name is Scott. He’s tall and handsome, with light brown eyes and a great smile. He loves his career as a physician’s assistant and has a refreshingly positive outlook on life.
We met and he was friendly and outgoing. He asked me lots of questions about myself, my writing, my life. He’s one of those guys that actually looks into your eyes when he talks to you—something surprisingly hard to find these days.
We chatted for a while. It was so comfortable. But then I was taken aback when his questions suddenly got very personal.
“How tall are you?” – Yes, I know I’m tall. Get over it.
“How much do you weigh?”– Whoa… mind your own business, buddy!
“When was your last bowel movement?”
And this is when I snapped back into reality and reminded myself that Scott worked in the doctor’s office where I was checked in, set to get my first…
Well, I can’t really say it here in this blog, can I? It’s just a procedure, but it’s so… gross. Oh, come on, Ruth… it’s not like you have that many readers anyway. (Sorry, Dad and Mom.)
I was set to get my first colonoscopy.
Invasive, endoscopic examinations aside, the truth is it’s tough to meet really handsome, kind, funny men in everyday life. Scott looked so adorable with a stethoscope around his neck, a few tattoos peeking out from underneath his light blue scrubs. But, let’s be honest, there are certain times when I’d just rather be talking to an old fat woman.
When you first meet a cute guy, you want to look and feel your best. You want to be dressed well and have your makeup done. And you want to meet somewhere charming that will make for a great story for your kids one day, like at the local coffee shop, the public library or a Springsteen concert. Wearing a pasty hospital gown without a stitch of makeup isn’t my idea of making a good first impression.
Somehow I got through the humiliation of that moment, by God’s grace and a healthy dose of anesthesia.
The truth is, I can’t control which medical staff member will be prepping me for procedures or asking me questions like, Is it painful when you urinate?
But what I can control is how I present myself during my usual, day-to-day routine—when I’m grabbing a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts, running into the grocery store to pick up a gallon of milk, or hitting the gym for a workout. Opportunities to meet people (including men) are everywhere.
I wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere outside of the doctor’s office in that crisp hospital gown. But why then do I dash out in my pajamas to return a Redbox DVD? Or wear Crocs with socks (unacceptable, I know) for a quick grocery run?
Presentation plays a huge part in perception. I want my outward appearance to reflect who I am on the inside. And if that takes a few extra minutes in the morning, so be it.
As for Scott, I woke up from the anesthesia and there he was, looking gorgeous as ever. He smiled and offered me a Sprite. I’m not sure, but I think I may be falling in love.