The Phone Call – (Part two of the Homey and Me Story)

Click here for part one.

I have often tried to tell myself that I wasn’t nervous around people – especially boys. And for the most part it has worked. Instead of clamming up, my nervousness translates to talking. Sometimes, because of my nervousness, I may be perceived as forward. And for those of you who know me, you probably think “Chococatania is absolutely a loud-mouthed, opinionated, forward woman, but I promise that I am not intentionally forward. Instead, I am usually so nervous that I begin to act instinctually, rather than calculating my words. This is a part of my personality that I often regret. I have had this part of my personality for as long as I can remember. And usually, as a teenager, my talkative nature went into overdrive when it came to boys.

The Disney dance was beginning to wind down. They were playing more slow songs more often. So, I made my way to the Goofy-shirt/Prince Charming/Snoopy guy. I was shaking in my skin. The closer I got to him, the cuter he seemed. I wished that I could have had the name-tag excuse to dance with him. But it was too late for that.

A slow song started. He was not dancing with anyone yet, so I looked at him. Motioning with my head in that “should we dance?” way. Maybe I even asked him. I honestly can’t remember.

And I can’t remember anything about that dance, either – other than the sweatiness of my palms. His palms seemed sweaty, too, which was somewhat comforting to me.

I’m sure that we talked about school and stuff like that. Although I can’t remember the contents of the conversation, I do remember the buzz of happiness I felt as we danced. And I remember that he didn’t get dull through the duration of the song. So often, it seemed like I could meet a cute guy, and after only 3 minutes of talking to him, he seemed so dull that I was over him as quickly as I had gotten interested. But this wasn’t the case with Snoopy. I found out his name, where he went to school, and I shared some basic factual information of my own.

After the song was over, we continued to make small talk. Eventually his friends came over, but before making my way back to my friends, I casually menitoned, “We should hang out sometime.”
“Yeah. That would be cool,” he replied.
I stood there. Stupidly.
“But…” he continued, “how can we do that if I don’t have your phone number?”
I snapped back to reality, then said, while dashing off, “I’ll get some paper and a pen.”
I was feeling really high. I ran to get paper, a pen, and I wrote him my phone number.
As I was re-approaching him, I felt stupid. I hesitated. I acted like I saw a friend, and then struck up a conversation.
Snoop approached me, I instantly ignored the other friend, and gave him my number.

This was my first LDS crush. I was really excited. The song “Low Rider” came on, and Snoop commented, “Classic,” while he sang along. I was happy to see that he had similar taste in music. We talked some more small talk, then danced one more time.

I went back to my friends, and started jumping around a lot. Then I sprained my ankle. And I went home, injured yet elated.


Days passed, with no phone call. After the weekend, I put it out of my head. I was back at school, and it was easy to forget about Snoopy. There were plenty of cute guys at school, and I was insane with galloping adolescence. No phone call? No big deal.


Thursday night – pretty late, actually, I got a phone call.
This was back in the day, when there were land-lines, and little brothers who could say, “Choco….phone…it’s a booooyyyyyy.” Delightful.
I picked up the phone, and couldn’t recognize the voice. It took me a few moments to realize…

Telephone...Back in the day...remember the looong cords?  I would make mine stretch from the wall in the office to my bedroom.
Telephone…Back in the day…remember the looong cords? I would make mine stretch from the wall in the office to my bedroom.

It’s funny. What do you talk about with a boy, on the phone, when you’re a teenager? I had no problem talking on the phone, trust me, but usually I was talking to girls about boys. When a boy called, the game changed. I got nervous right away. He didn’t go to my school, so that was a little bit of a detriment. Since I couldn’t talk about boys or school, naturally, I began telling him about the crazy dream I’d had the night before.

I had this dream, where I was riding around on a skateboard. Everywhere I went, a rainbow trail followed. It was also kind of glittery. He listened, and I realized that he probably thought I was crazy. Of course, the more nervous I got, the more I talked.
“I know it sounds strange, but it was so awesome. The colors were so cool.” Which they were. Trust me. I loved having dreams like that. I still love having dreams like that – where the colors are vivid.
“And it felt like I was really skateboarding. Of course, I can’t skateboard, so I guess I don’t really know. But I’ve ridden around on a skateboard before, and this was like that, except for more fun. You know.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I was just going through a city. Up and down hills. With the cool rainbow following me.”
“But anyways. Sorry. I don’t know why I told you that. It was just that it was cool.”

Somehow, Snoopy found a way to deal with my long explanation of this crazy dream. And we ended up talking for a while. We talked about school, music, and other stuff. We were doing the “get to know you” thing. It was awesome. I went to bed late, even though I knew I’d have to be up early for seminary.* Sleepiness was not an issue.

The next morning, I walked into my early-morning Seminary class at Sister Mitchell’s house. I was happily groggy.
“Guess what?” I whispered to Freckles.
“I talked to Snoopy last night,” I said, grinning. Or maybe even beaming.

*Seminary – is a scripture study class that Mormon youth in the 9-12 grade take. I grew up on the east coast, so seminary was early in the morning – 6AM – so we could go to school after the class. It was taught by a volunteer from our local congregation.

Click here for part 3


4 thoughts on “The Phone Call – (Part two of the Homey and Me Story)

  1. Pingback: A Date…And a Few More « That Good Part

  2. Pingback: The Story Homey and Me (a love story) – Part One of A Lot – Intro and Galloping Adolescence | That Good Part

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