MeganCarson.com

Have you ever done something that you thought you’d never have the courage to do?

Like, say, audition for the lead role in your school play where you’d be playing Helen Keller though you’d never attempted acting before? (True story.)

Or decided on a whim to invite a guy to an event when you did not even know his name? (Read about that one here)

Maybe you went on a blind date on Valentine’s Day, took a trip all by yourself, moved to a city where you did not know anyone or simply decided to get lost for the sake of getting lost.

I hope you’ve attempted a few of the above mentioned items (or some of your own) because if not, you’re missing out on the rush you experience when you “man up” and step out of your comfort zone.

I’ve had moments of blissful confidence when I feel like I can do anything, (or in this case) talk to anyone, and other moments where I am so tongue tied I can hardly say my name when asked.

In November I had an experience where I should have said something and totally chickened out.  And then yesterday I had a chance to redeem myself!

But first, the FAIL. I was at an event where the host of a well know radio show was in attendance. Before you think private party with great swag and such, you should know it was an event open to the public. At the mall. On a Wednesday afternoon. The only swag were the free stickers the grunts who worked at the radio station were passing out. I over heard a man talking to his friend and knew immediately whom the voices belonged to.  My favorite morning radio hosts.  And since I have become a semi-shameless promoter of my book, I thought, “Here’s a great opportunity.  I should give them a copy”. But then the next thought is “But I’ve just come from yoga and I smell.” Out of my insecurity (or was it vanity?) I walk away and head to my car cursing myself for not having the guts to say anything.  Somehow convincing myself that I am ridiculous (and borderline crazy because I’ve now have had TWO conversations with myself in public in a matter of minutes) I turn around and march right back to them with book in hand ready to kill ‘um with charm in the hopes it will make up for the smell of the gym that is trailing me.

Ten feet away from my target I freeze.  Can’t. Do. It.  Turn around, shoulders slumped, head hung low shuffling back to the car in defeat.  FAIL.

So last night when I had a chance to redeem myself BIG time, I pulled through.

Meet my new friend, Ben.  Yes, that Ben.  Big Ben.  Ben Roethlisberger.  He happened to be dining at the same restaurant I was

last night. And what’s even better…I actually went up and talked to him.  Not in an awkward “I’m so star-struck I can’t remember my name sort of way”, but in a “calm, I do this everyday sort of way.”  (Though I don’t do it everyday). My dear friend, Dana happened to be working at the restaurant where Ben and I were both having dinner. She chatted with him for a bit and then came over and got me so I could go meet her new best friend. Walking to his table I was praying I would not say painful things like, “sorry you did not get a Superbowl repeat this year” or “how are you feeling after that nasty concussion you suffered?” or “look on the brightside, since you did not make it to post-season play you’re now able to chat it up with random females while on vacation!” Thankfully none of that nonsense escaped my mouth. Instead we briefly talked about why he’s here (vacation), how his food was (good) and that I was sorry to inturrupt, but my dad would kill me if he knew I missed a chance to say “hello” to his favorite QB. He was pleasant and funny.  Very normal and nondescript.  Cute, of course. Very cute, but nothing made him all that different than you or me.  Wait, he was wearing a rock on his finger the size of Texas thanks to his Superbowl win, and he is big at 6’5, 214, but otherwise he could have been any other dude eating dinner.  My closing line was “again, sorry to interrupt your meal (which btw was an appetizer of fried mac and cheese) but it was really nice meeting you.”

Dana and I walked away holding in our school girl excitement as best we could until we were out of his sight and then started gabbing like any two girls who had just met a celebrity.  It was a total rush.

So thanks, Ben for helping me get my confidence back and being so kind. Let’s hope it lasts longer than your 2009-2010 season.

Traveling can be a great way to meet someone.  I just read an article on cnn.com yesterday about that very thing.  It highlighted Elizabeth Gilbert author of Eat, Love, Pray and her journey round the world, which ultimately lead her to her soul mate, Felipe.

She encourages people to be cautious when they travel to be sure they truly are in love and not just infatuated with each other and the moments shared in an exotic or thrilling location.  “It’s OK to fall in love, but don’t make any big promises. Come home, take a break, make sure that this is something real and not just what the old novelists used to call a shipboard romance.”

I think this is solid advice.  I would add to this the need to be sure you’re not more interested in what your crush is doing than the beautiful church in front of you, or the magical view you’re experiencing.  Stay in the moment!  As a seasoned traveler I confess that I have experienced a few  “shipboard crushes” in my life.  They were by no means romance or love, but definitely an interest or full-blown crush.

Where to start?  Forest Home summer camp.  And actually winter camp, too.  Without fail I found some boy that I thought was cute and strategically placed myself near him at the campfire and the dinner table and early morning chapel.  Then there were mission trips in high school.  What’s not to like about a guy who is playing soccer in an empty field with orphans?

But my most recent travel crush actually did occur on a ship.  I guess it’s a true shipboard crush.

When I was living with my parents (not that long ago…) my dad came home one night and asked my mom to go to Antarctica with him. (I should say he’s not normally this random, but you just never know what you’re going to get as dinner table conversation on any given night.) She politely said, “Why would I go Antarctica with you when you’ve never taken me to Italy?”  Dad, not accepting defeat, then turns and asks me if I m interested. “First, are you serious?  Second.  Um, ABSOLUTELY!!!”

This trip was with an organization for businessmen and women who are over 50.  I was going to be the youngest by a good…25 (or more) years!  Who cares?  I’d take this trip with people in their nineties if it meant an incredible vaca with my Dad.

Our first stop was Santiago, Chile where we meet up with the 50 other couples we would be traveling with.  Dad and I got a few strange looks, as some people seemed to think I was his trophy wife.  I remember saying “My Dad” as often and as loud as possible to clear up any doubts about our relationship.  When one of the men realized I was my Dad’s daughter he said, “Good thing, because otherwise every man on this trip would be jealous of your dad, and every woman would hate you.”

Soon after we arrived I found out that dad and I weren’t the only miss-matched couple on the trip.  There was a father/son team as well.  They shared the same name and the son had recently returned from serving in Iraq.  We talked a few times in Santiago, but once we boarded that small boat headed for Antarctica, the inevitable crush slowly developed.

The soldier and I naturally gravitated towards each other for one simple reason: we were the only two people on board who did not have an AARP card.  There was a lot of downtime on this trip (3 days at sea just to cross the Drake Passage) so we spent many hours in the commons reading books, working puzzles and yelling “Uno”.  I was fascinated by his stories of life in Iraq and at one point considered asking him to be a guest speaker in my classroom if he was ever in So Cal. I started to get excited to see him each day (tell tale sign of a crush) and hoped we’d end up in the same hiking group or sitting at the same breakfast table.  Did I mention he was younger and lived on the other side of the country?  Yeah…this was absolutely going nowhere.  I am not sure if it was the intoxicating smell of the penguin poop (I have never smelled something so rancid in my life) or the idea that this was an adventure in a place I’d never been before, but I continued to be drawn to him.  The crush was getting stronger each day.

I was in Antarcitca for goodness sakes!  I was with my Dad (who I promise I was not at all ignoring) and I was surrounded by some of the most beautiful landscape I had ever seen in a place that most people never, ever have the opportunity to visit. Before the crush became anything more than just a crush, I finally wised up and crushed the crush.  It was totally mind over matter and  guess what happened?  The trip got even better.  I still was enjoying my nightly card games with Soldier Boy (literally, he was just a few years past legal) but my enjoyment of all the activities increased as well because I was in the moment!

Once the shipped was docked back on the South American continent and it was time to say good-bye to our travel companions I gave the soldier a hug and my number- for no other reason than to let him know that if he was ever in CA it would be fun to grab dinner and maybe play a game or two of “Uno”.  He laughed and we went our separate ways.  It was no Eat, Love, Pray ending for me (not that I wanted that anyway) as I have never heard from him.  But I must admit every time I play “Uno” I do think of my shipboard crush.

Just for fun, here is a photo from our trip that Dad and I sent back to mom!

Good news!  If you pre order my book from Amazon, you’ll get it in the mail by the FIRST WEEK OF DECEMBER!  That’s right- way earlier than anticipated and with plenty of time to wrap it up and place it under the tree or next to the menorah.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program…

I have said some really stupid, dumb, idiot-esque things to men in the past.  Actually, who am I kidding, I have said dumb things to men and women. I am an equal opportunity idiot.  Here are ten (a small slice) of the less than stellar things I’ve said to men.

“I don’t know, I’m a catch.” As told to a man who asked why I was still single.

“Are you taking notes on this?”  Describing to a man what I am looking for in a mate.

“You’re nothing like the type of person I’ve imagined myself with.” Trying to explain to an ex-boyfriend that he was great, but not the kind of guy I saw myself with long term.

“You’re not a man’s man.” Explaining to a friend why he might not be able to help me fix my clogged sink.

“This date was an A+.” Not said often enough, now that I think about it.

“It’s okay that you’re late, but I might have to give you a detention.” Sternly said to Math Geek Matt when he was 45 minutes late for our blind date.

“You look taller than I remember.  Are you wearing lifts?” Casually mentioned to an insecure and vertically challenged friend of mine.

“Oh, just so you know, this isn’t a date.” I told my friend Riley when I invited him to an Angel’s game.

“Is this a date?” I asked two weeks later, when Riley suggested we grab dinner after small group.

“In California, we call mullets “schlongs”.  You know like a mullet is shot and long.  A short long…schlong.” As innocently told to my friend Matt.  He then proceeded to tell and re-tell this to his friends and my older brother eventually enlightened me that I should never, ever, ever refer to a mullet as anything other than a mullet.

Okay, your turn.  Who is brave enough to admit some of the ridiculous things they’ve said to men, or women?

I struggle with God feeling intangible.  Distant, untouchable and hard to spot sometimes.  While I know He is with me always, certain days I just wish he were flesh and blood.  Real to the touch, or the text or the face to face coffee date.   Sunday night I had something happen to me that can only be a God Thing.  I can’t think of a better way to define it other than something God orchestrated to remind me that he’s purposeful and present if I would just stop to look for Him.

I spent the weekend in Arizona with my brother, his wife and their illegally adorable boys.  I mean, it’s almost painful how cute they are because you just want to hug and kiss and stare and smother them to pieces.  William (age 4.5 months) is cool with it, Owen (27 months) does not always take well to his Aunt Megan wanting to snatch him up and never let him go.  This weekend I mustered up some restraint and let Owen take the lead in our interactions and in return enjoyed some really sweet time with him. (More on the weekend later in the week.)  Back to the God thing.

Sunday morning at church the pastor made an announcement that he and his wife would be hosting a desert that night where a man from Romania would be sharing his testimony about being a Christian during communistic rule.  It immediately reminded me of my “friend” Andre and I thought for a moment, “how funny would it be if Andre was the man speaking at the dessert tonight?”

Andre and I met on EHarmony.  After about one month of emails we decided to meet for coffee.  Since we live two hours from each other, we met near the beach somewhere in the middle.  Andre is unique and wonderful in many ways (which made for a very memorable date).

First, since he has only been in the US for about 10 years, he still has a thick Romania accent.  Why this surprised me when he opened his mouth and said “hello” I don’t know but I remember praying he did not see the look of surprise on my face.

Second, he LOVES life.  This man is joyful and it’s apparent the minute you meet him.  He has a perma-smile and a spring in his step.

Third, he loves God.  Foarte, foarte, foarte, mult (that’s “very, very, very much” in Romanian…I looked it up).

Fourth, he loves animals, specifically lions.  And he knows a lot about them, including details about their mating habits.  And thanks to three hours with Andre, I now know a lot about lion love as well.

Fifth, he loves to take pictures.

Six, he’s forgetful and did not bring his camera on our date.  My very archaic cell phone still has pictures on it that he took and I sent to him via 15 text messages so he could keep the memories as well.

After three hours and a few phone calls later I had confirmed that Andre is a great guy, just not the guy for me.

Last night as I was getting into bed at 10:45 my phone rang.  I get nervous when people call after, say, 10pm because I tend to think they are calling because of an emergency.  I grabbed my phone and saw it was a number I did not recognize so out of concern, I picked it up.

“Well, hello there Megan.” said the quirky man with the think Romania accent, “Do you know who this is?” he asked.

“Andre!  Oh my goodness.  It’s good to hear from you.”

“I have been in San Diego for the day sharing my testimony (about his live as a Christian in Romania, nonetheless) and I am currently passing through your city and thought I would call to see how you’re doing.  So, how are you doing?”

I was stunned.  I have not thought of Andre since we went out in March.  And on the very day that I am reminded of him, he is reminded of me.

Now, before you go thinking this is the perfect “meet cute”, you should know that we made no plans to see each other again and there was no talk of relationship status.  We were just two friends catching up on the phone.

And, it was a wonderful end to my night and an even more wonderful reminder that God is foarte, foarte, foarte mult in my life.