Ode to Family Wards

So, the LDS Church has organized Singles' Wards in order to help the college-aged and young adult-aged single people to co-mingle, meet, date one another and get married. It sounds so easy, right? Well, it didn't work that way for me at all. You see, the people in the same ward don't often date one another because if things should go sour, they'd feel awkward seeing each other every Sunday and at the activities; and who knows what kind of terrible gossip would begin to spread (I guess)?!

Anyway, I decided that when I moved, I would go to the Family Ward instead of the Singles' Ward. This is partially because I had attended the Singles' Ward in this area before, and met no prospects that left any sort of hopeful impression. Mostly, however, I am just tired of being surrounded by single people who refuse to date one another and wanted to get back into the meat of the organization, with all its several auxiliaries.

If you thought going to a Singles' Ward was pressure, as the Bishop stands every Sunday and encourages you all to date and get married, you haven't been part of a Family Ward as one of the only active young single adults -- or should I say, 'young maritally challenged adults?' You see, I love the people in my ward. They're great. Really. My Family Ward, however, is heavy on the newly-wed and budding-families side, so it hasn't been that long since my fellow ward members were in 'my position.'

I feel like I'm on The Price is Right: "Tell her what's behind door #1, Rod!" "Thank you, Bob. Let's just say this young lady will be the envy of all the Zoobies when she strolls through campus with this brand new TGIK on her arm!!! He's a 6'3" Virginia man with hair of brown and a set of fantastic eyes to match. He's a worthy Priesthood holder who does his Home Teaching every month without fail, and longs to take a sweet spirit to the Temple of her choice!"

My Bishop, who is also my Home Teacher (with his wife), came by for a visit yesterday and suggested we trade my dog in for a nice man. I told him the dog lives outside and that a man would have plenty of room inside the house, unless behavior warranted an expansion of the dog house. :) I then told him that his ward members were trying their best to see to that, and he need not worry. He said that he had heard from some of them about my date(s). Isn't that comforting. Not only do I have a built in dating service in my neighborhood, but they also serve as a reporting service to my ecclesiastical leader. What more could a girl need? *sigh*

Anyway, I keep it all in good humor. As Elder Wirthlin of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has said, 'come what may and love it,' and it's always better if one can laugh at themselves. Luckily my mother taught that principle to me very well through example. Laughter is the best medicine for whatever ails you, especially if you have been diagnosed by your local Family Ward to suffer from the same insipid disease as I; 'solo-itis of the maritally challenged variety.' May I remain heavily medicated until some gallant lad can cure me of it once and for all.

If the Wedding Bells Don't Ring, An Angel Gets its Wings

Dvvvbt-dvvvbt-dvvoo! (Yes, that's my attempt at writing out a trumpet onomatopoeia)

This special announcement is brought to you by - well, by yours truly, of course. I thought it worth while to announce that two distinct versions of This Guy I Know have been so bold as to agree to, and follow through with the first date. Mind you, it seems to have become standard practice for the first date to be a small group consisting of TGIK (is it me, or does this acronym, when said out loud, sound like 'the geek'?!), myself and the entire family of the person who set us up. Yes, that's right. The first date with both of these men, in all its glory, has had us dealing with kids already. . . . And they say, 'no pressure!'

In all seriousness, the evenings have both been fun. I see no more than friendship with one of them and have no desire for anything more than maintaining a fine acquaintance status with the other. I much prefer dating TGIK (in his many varieties) casually, but more frequently, than not dating at all. I'm sure that sounds like a 'duh' statement to you, however, I say this only because it's a lot easier to arrive at that elusive moment of 'when you least expect it' if you're actually dating people than when you have no prospects at all. I mean, you can't expect something from nothing, you know!

I've set it up so that TGIK #1 and I are going to go to the local Institute of Religion class together each Wednesday evening. I did have a much more relaxing and natural time with him anyway, even if I don't want anything more than friendship with him.

The other first date with TGIK #2 was. . . interesting. If you know me well, you know that I don't do small talk. At least I'm horrible at it if I do. I've never excelled at the casual mingle. I think I tend to socialize in the same way I shop for food or clothing. Get in - Get out - and Get on with life. I hope someday I'll be compelled to stop 'window shopping' for men and decide on one that suits me well.

So, anyway, I don't think it was 10 minutes into the evening before TGIK #2 brought up marriage. I thought it a bit awkward, but then I embraced the openness and ran with it. I had more of a connection with the married couple who set me up with TGIK #2 than I did with TGIK #2 himself. That's typically not a good sign of a promising relationship. I don't shy away from most respectable conversation topics, so it made for an interesting evening. I'm pretty much an open book and because I felt no need to be strategic in order win another date with TGIK #2, I just spewed forth from the depths of my discussion well. We also had some very superficial funny talk intermittently, but someone kept drawing the conversation back to marriage.

That's OK, though. I'm just like that beautifully sun-ripening apple at the tippy top of the tree that people might see and say they'd like, but they get distracted on the way up and go for the fruit on the lower branches before they reach me. I'm just lookin' for the man who complements me (and vice versa) and keeps his focus until he makes his way past all the other fruit on all the other branches to get the apple that caught his eye (in this case, me).

Well, if'n I hang on that branch until I'm out of season and crabbed with age, at least I may still have hope that perhaps one of the two thousand strippling warriors didn't marry in this life either and I'm sure he ought to be courageous enough to push past the intimidation of a nice, independent woman and we'll be married for eternity. . . . But if not, I'm sure life would still be a little bit beautiful if I were to spend forever as a single ministering angel, right?!

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

Looking back over my years of dating life, there are moments I remember with fondness. However, there are also moments I can laugh at now which were awkward at the time. In honor of such moments, I've translated some experiences - my own and others' - into an entertaining list of good ideas vs. bad ideas. Feel free to share some of your own making; I think we all would enjoy the laugh.

Good Idea: Hosting a movie night in a U-haul.
Bad Idea: Hosting a movie night on a mattress in a U-haul.

Good Idea: Wearing a dress to the prom.
Bad Idea: Wearing a teal dress to the prom when you're date is wearing a maroon vest.

Good Idea: Giving your date a good-night kiss.
Bad Idea: Giving your date's dog a good-night kiss.

Good Idea: Breaking the ice on a first date.
Bad Idea: Breaking wind on a first date.

Good Idea: Fishing for trout in a local lake.
Bad Idea: Fishing for wayward popcorn in your bra.

Good Idea: Grasping for the right words as you compliment her scarf.
Bad Idea: Grasping her as you compliment her scarf.

Good Idea: Roasting dinner for your date.
Bad Idea: Roasting your date at dinner.

Good Idea: Calling your date by her name.
Bad Idea: Calling your date by her mother's name.

Deck the Halls. . . and This Guy I Know, too!

I figure it's about time for an update, albeit brief, on the goings on in my tea party. In addition to the two (almost three) near set-ups mentioned in the last entry which have yet to materialize, I have one more to add to the cobweb stricken shelf of "Almost." Another neighbor I hardly know and who knows me as well asked to set me up with This Guy I Know. Crazy, right? I would almost be shocked, except somehow I'm not; here's why.

While the total reported sightings of This Guy I Know has sky rocketed over the last three months, reaching a total of nearly four (4), the total number of dates arising from these sightings has not budged since the last quarterly census taken on the matter, which is a pragmatic zero (0).

The reasons given for such numbers seems to be that, while the number of good-hearted people whose hearts turn toward potential suitorettes for This Guy I Know (namely, Me) increases around the Holidays, the number of evenings and weekends that get overbooked on This Guy I Know's calendar multiplies faster than two rabbits in an empty barn. This equation typically results in few to no opportunities for a random suitorette (namely, Me) to get penciled in on one of her available evenings or weekends during the same busy time.

Needless to say, any chance for making jolly jokes and pleasant conversation with This Guy I Know over a nice cup of hot cocoa by the flickering lights of the Christmas tree is as likely as getting a Salvation Army Santa to pay you every time he rings that bell outside the neighborhood department store. It's just not going to happen.

No matter. The world is filled with various faces of This Guy I Know, for none of whom do I live my life. Therefore, I will continue to live a full and happy life which may or may not include a date with any of these particular versions of This Guy I Know; and you know what? I am no worse off because of it. In fact, I will continue my life, making myself each day better because the existence or lack of a certain event in my life is NOT my life, but a mere part thereof. My life is so much more. So is yours.



So, in closing, there's no need to plan how you'd like to deck This Guy I Know as you bedeck your halls for the Holidays because the energy is better spent elsewhere. . . and besides -- It takes a lot more creativity to write these blogs about a non-existent dating life than it would if something substantive happened. Then what would I do with myself?!

Set Me Up, Scotty!

You can always tell you've become a part of the neighborhood when people you are getting to know better ask if they can set you up with "This Guy I Know." While his face and name changes quite often and we sometimes go months without getting together, This Guy I Know and I are very well acquainted. In fact, you could say we're almost going steady. . . in an 'on-again, off-again' sort of way.

Recently, one of my new neighbor friends asked me if I would be willing to be "set-up" with This Guy I Know. Actually, he used to be her husband's room mate. . . six years ago. She then asked me to tell her about myself. You see, she knows next to nothing about me, considering that all people are icebergs and we've known of each other's existence for less than three months. Her main reason she gave me for thinking This Guy I Know would like to go out with me is as follows (more or less): "He's dated tons of girls, probably thousands, but you're interesting. And I think he would really like interesting." On that premise, if we really end up going out, this date could be very. . . entertaining!

As luck would have it, when it rains - it pours, and one of my best friends' dad called me and asked if I would mind going on a blind date with a man he knows who is an unemployed teacher currently working on movies at the dinosaur museum. *Rock On* My friend's dad said, from what he's gathered, "you're everything he's looking for in a woman. He also told me to tell you that he's a Star Trek fan and loves cats." I enjoy Star Trek non-fanatically (The Next Generation, preferably) and I'm more of a dog-person, but at least we should have something to talk about. We've become "friends" on FB and I'm told that he'll call me to set up the date. We'll see.

I've learned not to hold my breath for a set-up to happen. This Guy I Know is kind of a lone ranger that seems to come and go as he pleases and I've learned that it's easiest to just roll with it. It's not personal, it's business (Movie: You've Got Mail). Dating is not a one-size-fits-all kind of thing, so for that reason, I'll continue to go out with This Guy I Know until I find the right combination of characteristics in an attractive-to-me suit who (and this is the kicker) also finds my combination of characteristics an attractive-to-him dress and we decide to wear each other (out) for the rest of time and all eternity. . . . and (in the famous words of Captain Jean-Luc Picard) 'Engage!'

In a Pickle

There's always a little bit of a risk when going on a blind date. I believe in being one's self in any given situation. I've learned, however, that it might be wise to be one's best self to start with and then as you get to know each other better, you can start to show more and more. Some things about a person can be a little much when a relationship is very young.

It's great, though, when some of those things come out and it creates some common ground. Not necessarily that you both find you like the exact same things, but maybe that you look at the world in a similar way.

Take a recent blind date experience of mine, for example. I decided several years ago that it makes for a more interesting date if I bring out the more talkative, bubbly side of me on a blind date as opposed to the more shy, stand-offish side - go figure. What happens when that side of me comes out can be fun, but I can also spew out some things that might fall into the "save it for later" category. This happens especially when comversation between us comes easily. It can turn into somewhat of a stream of consciousness conversation.

So, we were having a picnic he put together at a popular local historical site. He prepared a nice sandwich, salad and apple lunch (with zesty italian dressing!). One sandwich had tomatoes and the other did not, so he asked if I liked tomatoes - which I absolutely do. He gave me that one and said that if I didn' he would have taken that one and picked them off. I had discovered on the way to the picnic site that he loves onions, so I thought I would check my sandwich for onions - which I found. As I took them out, he plucked them out of my hand as I struggled to figure out where to put them that wasn't going to be in the way of my salad. Sign of a good date #1: You become fast friends enough to unabashedly pick through the other's food. How convenient.

I told him, "except for the onions, are a pretty good sandwich maker!" He thanked me and shortly thereafter replied, "except for the onions, you are a pretty good sandwich eater!" I couldn't fault him there. That comment gave rise to a discussion about how each eats their sandwiches, which is one of those conversations that may be best kept for later. Not because it's personal or anything, but it's really uncomfortable to tell a person the manner in which you hold and eat your sandwiches and get an odd silence and the, "you have a certain way you eat sandwiches?!?" look. Awkward!

Notwithstanding the potential with the direction this conversation went, this did not become awkward for us. I learned that we agree on getting the peanut butter and jam to the edge of the sandwich and that while I must have pickle in every bite (if I have pickle on my sandwich at all - but not on the PBJ, silly!), he says I'd never find a dill pickle in his refridgerator, but he likes sweet pickles. That was a serious blow! I'm a Christian woman, though, so I told him I wouldn't hold it against him and that everyone is entitled to their own opinion. He retorted that it wasn't opinion, he was just right. I bit my tongue. ;)

So, if I were to tell you how to measure a good date, I would have to say - from experience - that if you find you disagree about several things (e.g. Eating a sandwich 'corner-corner-middle from the bottom up' vs. 'Start at the top and eat in a spiral until you come to the middle' or 'Dill pickles in every bite' vs. 'Only sweet pickles in my fridge' or Tomatoes vs. Onions or Loves the rain vs. Doesn't like to get wet or Can't bring yourself to text message vs. Really likes to text) but you both actually pay attention to similar kinds of details in your respective lives, it's not the end of the world. And it was a very entertaining date, which is important.

All that said, it would be nice if he loved dill pickles as much as you do. . . . I'm just saying!

Subtleties of Pre-Date Performances

Sometimes you just have to sit back and ask yourself, "Why in the world do we act this way?!"  Most people will tell you that there is a certain finger on a person's left hand that is reserved for a certain piece of jewelry that signifies that this person is not available to negotiate a relationship beyond friendship, unless you are the one to which that person is committed.  Yes, that's a lot of words to describe "the wedding ring finger."

Recently, I've had a difficult situation that required me to totally end a friendship with this guy.  I decided that I just didn't want to deal with men for a while.  I started wearing a ring I usually don't wear because it fits best on my left ring finger and while I don't usually want to give the impression that I'm not available, I didn't care if that's what people thought at this point.

What a rebellious action this is.  I put a ring on my finger!  Now, people will think I'm 'off the market' when I'm really not dating anyone.  It's true in the sense that I want to send the message that I don't care for dating men right now.  To them, I am off the market.  Ooo, that's devious.  Just call me a rebel; the black sheep among snow white wool; bad to the bone, bad.

So, I've sworn off men for the time being and have this ring on that certain finger to prove I'm not looking for a relationship.  Then I find myself seeing a really attractive, nice-seeming guy and wondering if he would be interested if he knew I was available.  I hope that some miracle might happen and he'll ask me out.  But, OH NO!  Not with a ring on that finger, so I hurry and switch it to the other hand.  Just in case.  The waiter at the restaurant, the guy that keeps glancing at you during intermission, the guy inching his way home during rush hour in the lane next to you;  any one of them could be a man with guts enough to seize the opportunity.  That's why the switch seems so imperative at the time.

Nothing happens, though.  In fact, the waiter is just doing his job, the guy at intermission is looking at everyone sitting across from him, and the guy in the next lane over takes the next opportunity to weave in front of you and off the next exit.  Eh, it was all dreaming anyway.  So, I switch my ring back to that finger and decide I've made the right decision, until the next guy passes who might be the one who cares to know I'm available.

There's really no one endowed with enough telepathic powers that they can decipher all the 'signals' you're dishing out; that they can know that you're just playing the game; that they can make the first move and get a 'yes' because you're not as disinterested as you appear.  And yet, you keep playing that game.  You keep up the charade that hasn't really worked to get you results, but somehow keeps your brain satisfied that you're doing all you can.

Oh, Dating Game, how ridiculous you can be!