To All the Girls I've Loved Before Part VIII

Now, because all of you have been on the edge of your seats for the past few weeks, I will finally reveal the secret origin of the Spastic Wet Noodle's name:

That's what she called herself. Because she was spastic. And kind of like a wet noodle.

Which leads nicely to Girl #8, Waffle Chick, who did not call herself Waffle Chick. It was Fabio who named her, because she worked on the waffle bar at the Morris Center cafeteria where we ate, and because she was a chick (as opposed to a dude). Fabio named her because he was the one who noticed her, he being a straight male and all. She was pretty hot, apparently.

For months we talked about Waffle Chick while he watched her from afar, but I also worked at the Morris Center so it was inevitable that I would eventually meet her and learn her real name, which I did long after Fabio had moved on to other love interests. I liked Waffle Chick because I had been told that she was hot and because she laughed at just about everything I ever said, but mostly because it was obvious that she liked me. I have a tendency to like people who like me--it's good for my ego.

So a few months before my mission, as it was becoming clear that nothing was going to happen with the Noodle, Waffle Chick and I started hanging out a lot. Then, one night, as we were going for a walk, I asked her what she'd do if I held her hand. (I had never held a girl's hand before, so, unaware of the proper etiquette, decided on a straight-forward approach.) She said that she'd let me, but then we'd have to decide what that meant for our relationship.

I held her hand, then, while we walked, and I did not let go when we sat down on a bench or while we DTRed, or on the way back to her car. Her hand was bigger than mine. I was slightly bothered by this (but of course didn't say so). We decided that we would go home and pray about it, then get together again to decide if we wanted to start a serious relationship so soon before my mission.

I, honestly, did not need to pray about it. When I was honest with myself, I knew that I was only interested in her because she was interested in me and it felt good to be liked. She was an incredibly good and nice person, but there was simply no spark on my side. So we had lunch the next day (or perhaps the day after that?) at TGI Friday's (I think) and, thankfully, the answer she had received jibed with the one I didn't need to receive: the time was not right.