Thanks for the idea, Cindy. :) I have two embarrassing moments. Only one does the general public get to hear. That is this one. The other one NO ONE knows. Maybe 3 people on this planet- and I am one of them. I never ever EVER tell that one. So this is the one you get.
By the way, it's a long story so buckle up.
When I was between Sophomore and Junior years in high school, we had a stake service project. They gathered all of us together then broke us up into crews and took us to various parts of the city to just clean up. I think my crew went up Johnny Creek. Anyway- that is neither here nor there.
After the service project, they gathered us back at the stake center for lunch and to teach us how to dance. They had Style (the dance group from Rick's College [now BYUI] ) come and give us a few pointers. Once they had given us as much instruction as our awkward teenage minds could handle, they sent us home to clean up and dressed for the occasion of a nice dance. Oooooooooooooo-oooooooo...
I wore my red low waist dress (it was homemade, but I liked it) with a sailor neckline bordered in white lace. I wasn't as tall then as I am now, but I still towered over most of the girls and several of the boys.
I'll just get it out now. I hate dances. I hate loathe despise and abominate dances. I don't know *how* to dance, I don't like how I *look* when I dance... the list goes on. Anyway, this night was different. The Style dancers took turns dancing with us. There was one... B.C. (that's all you get- yes, I still remember his name) who asked me to dance. Now... I realize I was his assignment. He was not there to hit on teeny boppers. Anyway, so he asked me to dance, and was dancing quite properly, left hands held high, right hand on my upper back to guide the movements... I felt very self conscious, afraid I'd trod on his feet. He was shorter than me, and I was afraid I'd break him.
We dance to Garth Brook's "The River" and as we danced he sang the words.
And I will sail my vessel,
till the river runs dry.
Like a bird upon the wind,
these waters are my sky.
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try,
So I will sail my vessel,
till the river runs dry!
Not particularly romantic lyrics, but the more he sang, the more I loved him. He had a lovely voice, and he *sang* to me while we *danced*!!! It was more than my 15 year old heart could take. I remember my journal entry from that night. Seriously- it's been nearly 20 years and I don't have to look at my journal to remember what I wrote that night. I was flying on air as I wrote the lyrics to "I could have danced all night" from My Fair Lady.
See, you thought the embarrassing moment was going to come at the dance didn't you? DIDN'T you?
At that time, my sister Valeri was also attending Ricks. I told her about this super cute guy that I'd met and danced with who had waltzed away with my heart. Valeri is not a shy person. She looked him up and went to his apartment to find him and she introduced herself.
That was also not the embarrassing part.
Fast forward now about two and a half years or so...
I'm a Senior. I rule the school! Well, ok, I was still a loser, but still, seniors are way better than Sophs right? anyway... I was with some friends hanging out in the seminary building when we walked past a room with a substitute teacher. I about wet my pants when I saw who the substitute teacher was. It was none other than B.C. The very same B.C. who had danced and sang with me all those years ago. He was a seminary teacher!? Of course, by now he was married and had a kid or two (Mormon's work fast when it comes to stuff like that).
I told my friends about the dance and that it was him- thinking it would be just between us and no big deal. It was forever ago. I was over it and I was sure he never thought anything of it anyway. But my friend, Christine said, "Well I'm going to go tell him." So she did. She walked right into his classroom and told him my tale. I don't know how he reacted because I was too busy running from the building.
A month or so later my seminary teacher was gone and we had a *gulp* substitute (you see where this is going, don't you?). Because we were seated alphabetically, I was sitting Front and Center to the teacher's podium (blast my Bakeish last name! blast it a million times to hades!!!) As our dear substitute, Brother C called the role, he asked us each to tell him something about ourselves. So up and down the rows he goes. Then he gets to me and reads my name, pauses a moment. Looks at the name again, then looks at me and says,
"Oh Bakeshow?!?! I know her. Bakeshow needs no introduction. I remember you from a few years ago [eyebrow waggle] we had a... fling [eyebrow waggle]."
Oh dear merciful heavens. I could not shrink down far enough to hide under my seat. The eyes that were burning into my head. The crimson color of my face... I'm surprised I didn't die right then and there.
To this day I have a love/hate relationship with seminary teachers. I love them because they're usually super awesome... but I hate them because they remind me of that day when all I wanted to do was cause the brick building to fall in on my head.