On Being Peculiar (Pt. I)

The summer I was 20, my mother took my 12 year old sister and I on the road to see her sister in British Columbia, Canada. My aunt was married to a has-been football star who was a sports commentator at a local radio station. They had two children who were roughly my age. I hadn't seen them since I was very young so it was a good opportunity to reacquaint myself with them.

Everybody liked Uncle Tom. He's the kind of dad that everybody wishes they had. When I say "everybody," I exclude my mother and grandmother who couldn't stand him. There were reasons, I have later discovered, but at the time, he had the house to have a party.

My cousin, Bobby, had planned a party for Sunday. He invited me multiple times so I was sure I'd be going. On that Sunday, my mom, sister and I got up, dressed, and left the house to find a Mormon church for services. I noticed that there were already a scant handful of young adults lounging by the pool. Uncle Tom had set out a case of cold beer.

We returned a couple of hours later and ate brunch and then... nothing. Bored. There were three empty cases of beer pushed to the side, an empty pool (empty of people, not water, mind you) and about ten people lounging around. Another couple of hours passed and I finally talked my sister into going out to the pool with me.

We sat at the edge, hanging our legs into the water. We were still bored. Then a beautiful being sat up from a lounge chair. He was gorgeous. I watched him look our way and grab Uncle Tom as he brought out another case of beer. A minute later, Tom and beautiful person approached.

"Nancy, this is Freddie (I'm not joking). To Freddie, "Freddie, this is my niece, Nancy. She's from Utah. She's Mormon." It seemed that Uncle Tom said the last bit as a warning to Freddie.

Freddie was charming. My sister returned indoors and I hung out at the pool. Freddie was attentive. He was respectful. He understood that "Mormon" meant I didn't drink. He offered me a soda. As the crowd thickened and the cases of beer were showing up and disappearing more frequently, the dirty jokes were abundant. Freddie defended my honor by asking them to refrain.

By the time the party started winding down, everybody was pretty much sloshed except me but including Freddie. It had been an interesting party and I had a good time but I was not disappointed to have it over. Freddie was cute but he was drunk and not quite as cute as he was when he was sober. I appreciated his attention to me but I chalked it up to my charming personality.

Freddie started making innuendos of what he planned on doing to me when he got me alone. I laughed them off since Uncle Tom had clearly warned him that I was Mormon. He kept at it until I spelled it out for him.

Freddie was stunned. Freddie suddenly didn't want to be around my charming personality anymore. Freddie was more than disappointed. He was also mortified. Freddie was going home alone. In front of all of his friends. He had to work fast to not leave the party alone.

And so I left so he could save face.

At the time I thought Uncle Tom was acting as a paternal figure to me when he warned Freddie that I was Mormon. I have since reinterpreted the tone. He was warning Freddie. Now I understand why my mother didn't like Uncle Tom (tip of the iceberg, people).

Freddie did not leave the party alone.

But I was still charming. Really.


To be continued...