Journal Day #1

Today, I happened across a new-to-me blog, Sometimes Sweet, and was inspired by this series, a writing prompt each week. I tend to get all gung ho at the beginning of a project, and then, well … we’ll see how this goes. Looking back in the archives, a couple of the prompts made me catch my breath to think of sharing on my blog the first story that came to mind, but as for today, I like the idea of some inspiration and, for goodness sake, something to get me writing again.

Everyone has a time in their life they view as a crossroad. Sometimes you can see it as it’s happening, and you’re able to choose one way or another. Other times you may not realize you’re there until you look back, and see what a turning point it really was. This week, write about a time you view as a marker in your life; a distinct place where things changed, for better or worse.

Sometime in the late fall or early winter of our second year living at the Grand (just over ten years ago by now), Charity and I hit upon an idea that we had high hopes for. The impetus for this brilliant scheme was that we were weary of being single, and to put it simply, we wanted to meet our husbands. Now. Yesterday. We had had it with all the bright ideas and usual ways that we had heard might spark love — and in particular, we were cynical enough by then that you wouldn’t have caught us dead at a church (or any other) singles’ group activity. We weren’t meeting anyone in class, at work, at church, on a plane, or in the grocery store. We didn’t want to join an online dating site — just didn’t. And, probably more than anything, we were tired of talking about it. Still, in an uncharacteristic moment of practicality, I realized, and pointed out, that no one was knocking on our door with the intention of asking us out — and we would have noticed because we spent a lot of time at home in those days (it was a good place to be).

So we decided to play pool at Yia Yia’s. To meet boys.

The plan was pretty straightforward: we would go to Yia Yia’s every Thursday night. We would invite people to join us, or we would try to strike up a conversation or game with whomever was already there. Either scenario had a chance of working out. At the time, we didn’t think that our husbands were among any of the guys we already knew. But we thought, you never know, maybe one of the guys we already knew knew a guy that we didn’t already know. Networking was also uncharacteristic of me (though maybe more natural for Charity).

I don’t remember much about how it went week to week, now that it comes to it. I remember a couple of times one or the other of us inviting friends and/or acquaintances — I can’t even remember whom, though — only to have it feel disappointing and then a little awkward when they didn’t bring anyone new to us. Perhaps we were too subtle in our intentions? In fact, the only boys we ever actually met were two friendly eastern European kids there to play pool too — I can’t remember their names or even the country they were from, only that they were too young for us. (Just as a side note, though, the Europeans — we called them by their country name at the time, the Bosnians maybe? — were delightful; they were charming in their own way, and we very much looked forward to running into them, even if they were decidedly not “the ones” we were looking for.)

And it would be weird not to mention that Jason came sometimes too (pretty regularly, I think). I was thrilled because I already had a big crush on him. It kind of feels like that’s a different story, though, because even though he turned out to be The Boy, those nights at Yia Yia’s don’t really feel like part of our story except in a roundabout (if fairly important) kind of way.

What I do remember is laughing and having meaningful conversations and playing a bit of pool; trying but not trying too hard; being out there, having a good time, not overthinking it. I remember being hopeful, being open and, for once, not feeling self-conscious about it.

No, we didn’t meet our husbands playing pool at Yia Yia’s that winter, but it sure was a good idea, nonetheless.