At BYU, an awkward phone call just won’t do.
By Danielle Taylor Porter (BS ’06), Salt Lake City
The Monday of the week of Valentine’s Day (Saturday), I answered a knock on my door to find a box of chocolates, a poem, and a valentine with my name on it that was signed, “Your Secret Admirer.” The poem asked me out for Saturday night, inviting me to respond to an e-mail account created for the occasion. Not knowing who it was from, I was a little hesitant, but I was also flattered. With the encouragement of my roommates, I sent my “yes” by a poem of my own to the e-mail account. Each day that week I continued to enjoy daily gifts at my door: food, music, and flowers, each gift accompanied by a poem.
Throughout the week, some of our guy friends started making sport of the ordeal. Brandon had an especially good time, mocking the gifts and poems and teasing about who the admirer might be. He was cute and flirty, and I found myself wishing he were the secret admirer instead.
Saturday night finally approached, and an hour before the date Brandon came up to find an apartment full of giggly girls. He wished me luck, and I felt deflated as my last hopes of him being the secret admirer dissolved. Shortly thereafter the long-anticipated knock came. Upon opening the door the secret admirer of the week was revealed—the charming and scheming Brandon himself. He handed me an orange rose and planted a kiss on my cheek.
He had worked his magic well, and months later we were married. Six years later we now look back and laugh about how it all began.
By Melynn Minson Sheet (BA ’97), Sedro-Woolley, Wash.
One summer term my roommate placed on the apartment walkway a wooden camping chair she’d made as a young woman. We all loved to sit out there and talk, even though her chair was broken.
One day her chair disappeared. We drew pictures of the chair and circulated “Have you seen me?” flyers throughout our complex. After about a week a ransom note came, telling my roommate—if she ever wanted to see her chair alive again—to send a plate of a certain kind of cookie up a certain Kimball Tower elevator to a certain floor at a certain time.
We made the cookies, and the entire ward (all fully involved in the drama) trooped over to the Kimball Tower. We sent the cookies to the designated floor. When the elevator came back down, my roommate’s camping chair—now fixed—was sitting inside. With it was an unsigned note inviting my roommate on a date at a certain time on a certain day.
On the appointed day, at the appointed time, one of our ward members came over and insisted on blindfolding my roommate. Then her date burst through the door of our apartment dressed as the Man in Black from the The Princess Bride. A staged sword fight broke out in the kitchen between the date and the blindfolder (best friends from the ward), followed by my roommate being escorted away, blindfold still in place. She was taken over several obstacles meant to represent various scenes from the movie before she was finally allowed to see who her date was.
Ironically, it was one of the guys we had been hanging out with all summer. I’m guessing he just didn’t know how to ask my roommate out. I still remember it as the awesomest date I never went on.
Shock and Awww
By J. Brandon Dalley (BA ’08), Pleasant Grove, Utah
With the night of the girl’s choice dance quickly approaching, I had yet to answer the young woman who asked me to be her date. So I bought a dozen pink helium-filled balloons and drew snouts, tails, and legs to make the balloons resemble pigs. I then made a poster that read, “I’ll go to the dance with you when pigs fly!”
I enlisted one of the girl’s roommates to help carry out my plan. She placed the poster on the girl’s bed and let the balloons fly up to the ceiling. She then phoned me to tell me everything was in place.
I envisioned that the girl would read the sign and, after lying down, see the pigs on the ceiling and know that my answer was yes. The plan was perfect—or so I thought.
Later that night the girl’s other two roommates stormed into my apartment. Fuming, they told me I was heartless for saying no and calling their roommate a pig. They said their roommate was in tears and if I did not want to go to the dance I should have just told her. I was puzzled by this reaction, so I asked the obvious: “Did you bother to look up and see if pigs were flying?” Confused, the two ran back to their apartment. When they returned they said I had answered in the cutest way they had ever seen.
By April Giddings Cobb (BA ’96), South Jordan, Utah
As a BYUSA officer, I was encouraged to go to Preference. I decided to invite Randy, another officer who happened to be in my history of civilization class.
To ask him, I wrote up a fake test that looked very official. My friend who worked at the Testing Center put all of the appropriate stamps on it and held it at the desk for him.
When I returned to the BYUSA office, I had a mutual friend tell Randy that there was a message from the Testing Center warning him that he had only one hour before he’d miss his history of civ test. Randy came right to my office to ask if I knew anything about the test. I assured him that we had been reminded several times and said I’d already taken it. “You’d better get over there quickly,” I added. “The test is a big portion of our grade.” He ran off to the Testing Center in a complete panic.
All of the students at the Testing Center were in on it and made sure he got the right test, which was multiple choice. The first page featured several excruciating and obscure questions on ancient Mayan history. On the second page, though, the first question was “What are you doing on Friday night?” with the options
A. Hanging out in the Wilk.
B. Doing the chicken dance on the quad.
C. Studying just in case there happens to be another surprise history of civ test.
D. Going to Preference with April.
Randy chose D, though I think back now and wonder why he would accept after I put him through so much anxiety.