When: January 1996, my first year at the U.
Where: Utah Museum of Fine Arts, U campus
What: Checking out the museum's recent (and temporary) acquisition of a VanGogh painting
Why: I must have been smokin' hot that day
Who: John
How: A bit stupidly, on my part.

Here are the facts, as I remember them:

I had read about the VanGogh in the school newspaper and asked myself, How many chances will you have to see a real VanGogh? The answer, Hopefully, many, but probably not very many. So, the first opportunity I had, I ambulated on over to check it out.

The musuem had placed the painting in a spot of glory; the very center of the front room; one couldn't miss seeing it. It was encased in glass and could be viewed front, back, and any other angle you could want. I don't really remember a lot about it, as it wasn't a painting I wasn't familiar with, but I remember it had muted colors and looked serene. I liked it and stood contemplating the scene for a long time. At some point, I noticed a man watching me, so I attempted to subtly ascertain more about him. He had brown, curly hair that came just past his ears. He looked older than me, but he wasn't old. He wasn't very tall, but taller than me. He had nice eyes; they were brown. Anyway, I must not have been subtle enough, or maybe he just grew tired of watching, but he came over to talk to me.

John asked me what I thought about the painting. I still had yet to acquire much knowledge of art, so I really didn't have an insightful opinion, but I was quite conversant with the art of flirting, so I managed to sound somewhat perceptive and clever. Of course, being an accomplished flirt and having a healthy interest in others, I asked his opinion. He shared with me why he liked the brush strokes, the colors, the choice of subject, etc. He was quite interesting. Eventually, John asked me if I'd visited the museum before, and, when I answered no, offered to accompany me. I gratefully accepted the offer, and we spent a couple happy hours perusing the musuem's selections. He was a worthy guide, and I was pleased with his insights and his attention.

When we finished, John asked if I wanted to go to the student union for a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, I replied, I had a class, Girls Chorus, in a few minutes and needed to be heading to it. He decided to walk me there. On the way, he asked me if I had a telephone. I laughed. Of course I do! Thinking: who doesn't?!?! Good, he said, can I ask; what's the number? I looked at him mutely for a moment. Oh! Was he asking for my telephone number?!?! I gave it to him. He pulled a thick notebook out of his backpack and wrote it down. He asked me a few questions about myself; what was I studying, where did I hail from, how did I like the U, etc. I asked him questions too and found out that he was 26 and a psych grad student. He wasn't from Utah, but now I can't remember where he was from. I remember his eyes, his hair, and that he had a really nice voice. Oh, and he wore glasses. I thought he was very attractive. We arrived at my class and John bid me farewell saying, I'll be in touch.

This was a real coup for me, a nice self-esteem boost. You see, just a little bit (a couple weeks???) before this event took place, I went to the mall for a hair cut. It was horrible. It was so bad that I went back (what was I thinking!?!?) to see if they could fix it. The girl made it worse. Disaster. My roommate took me to a reputable, and expensive, salon that sadly informed me they could fix the problem but would have to cut off most of my hair to do so. They did a great job, but I didn't feel comfortable with my short hair; I felt unfeminine and unattractive. I took to wearing skirts every day and up'ed my make-up usage. Having John ask for my phone number helped me feel attractive again. It was a positive experience and I'd give him my phone number again any day, if he asked.