My Favorite Things #5

Daria

So, if any of you know me on facebook you’ve probably registered my excitement for the newest TV-DVD release. Daria is on it’s way to my home from Amazon, and I’ve got to celebrate somehow.

In high school, I remember discovering it and watching it with Nate and Chenese. It got rather awkward when the subject of sex came up explicitly. We all looked around, blushed and switched it to a different episode.

Also, there were times in which (as a brunette with glasses) people would make reference to me as a “male Daria.” To think, I considered that as much a compliment as when people (okay one person) call me a “male Tina Fey.”

Yay for brunettes with glasses.

A (Very) Brief Heterosexual Dating History, Bachelorette #4

Dani

Height: 5’9”
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Talent: Ward Choir
Random Fact: She and my brother were in a musical together although they only spoke to each other once.

The Date:

That first day of class, I remember staring at her, but I’m not quite sure why. Was it her laugh as she courteously laughed at the teacher’s opening day jokes? Maybe the uncanny resemblance to my friend Chenese? Or perhaps it was her sense of style which seemed to complement mine somehow?

The classroom was cozy. The padded folding chairs were lined up side by side, their arm rests removed. I suppose it was so we’d all sit a little closer, feel a little more connected, …and perhaps start dating each other.

You see it was an LDS institute class. For those of you unfamiliar with institute, it’s essentially a set of religion classes for young single adults 18-29. There are also activities such as speed dating and dances directly geared towards getting guys and girls to date, marry, and have babies (in that order).

Slowly, we gravitated towards each other. I told her it was because her shoes fascinated me and she told me that she was curious about why I was always writing in my notebook. Generally, I was outlining a paper or drafting a poem rather than paying a lot of attention in class.

What struck me about Dani was her perfection. Following Nate and Chenese’s one-year anniversary, I had a real desire to have what they did—a deep intellectual, spiritual, personal (and likely physical) bond. Dani’s resemblance to Chenese provoked an abiding hope in me that I might have something just as deep and beautiful.

I was committed to making this the best date possible. I planned a week in advance. I took her to a local restaurant, and I introduced her to the specialty. We went to a basketball game and then went to dessert afterwards.

The conclusion of this story is a lot like that of (500) Days of Summer. Just like in the movie, things didn’t really turn out the way I’d hoped. My expectations and reality told two different stories:

Expectations:

I saw myself sweeping her off her feet. I would be witty and romantic as we sat down to a nice dinner conversation. I would look into her eyes for the first time out of class at that basketball game and we’d feel that spark. I’d feel my issues with touch dissolve as our lips pursed for my first, single good night kiss. Months later, I’d recreate the night as I got to one knee and proposed.

Reality:

Dinner conversation kept returning to the same topic of class. The noise of the basketball game made me anxious. It only made me want to touch and be touched less. Every time I’d look in her eyes, it was like a barrier was there, but on my side—a plate of glass dulling every sound, sight and interaction between us ever so slightly.

I didn’t know what to do, so we just left. We skipped to dessert and she kept asking, “Are you okay?” and stating the obvious fact “You’re not looking great.” Instead of a good night kiss, I had a good night Advil and knelt down that night hoping to pray away the sense of failure after finally being brave enough to ask her out:

Lord, I’ve done everything I was supposed to do yet I can’t help but feel like what I am doing—what I am wanting—is unnatural. Please fix this. Please help me understand.

And months later I did, but only after two more very bad dates.

The Lesson: Formulas and molds don’t apply to people.

End, Part 4.

A (Very) Brief Heterosexual Dating History, Bachelorette #2

Chastity

Height: 5’5”
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Talent: Concert piano
Random Fact: My grandparents lived just a mile from her family (in the same ward) and openly voiced their approval of us going on a date.

The Date:

With my dating cherry popped, it didn’t take long before my friends attempted finagled another date.

Glenda was the first one to broach the topic:

“I don’t want things to get too serious with Arthur, so if he asks me out, I’m going to tell him that you beat him to it.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Glenda and Arthur were both friends and I had no intention of getting caught up in the drama of a budding relationship, so I politely declined. As I later found out (like you will later this week), I should have taken that as a sign or sorts. (Oh, the drama of high school!).

As it turns out, Arthur was doing some scheming of his own. Not only was he planning on asking Glenda to prom. He and Nate were planning the perfect group date to woo their respective love interests.

Late one night, I had an intervention of sorts. Nate called me up and said I had to come over immediately. Constantly working on projects, this was a typical call; however, upon my arrival, I noticed that Bronson and Arthur were already there.

“GMB,” Nate said, “we’ve decided you’re going to prom.”

“Um… and when did you decide this?” I asked coyly.

“About five minutes before we called,” Bronson chimed in.

“I’m going with Chenese, Arthur’s asking out Glenda, and Bronson’s waiting to hear back from Cami. That leaves you,” Nate said.

After a few suggestions were thrown out (eliminating everyone who was already asked out, had a boyfriend, or was difficult to handle in dose’s of 6-8 hours), we decided that I was going with Chastity.

Also in my music theory class, she was the girl everyone liked, although she wasn’t necessarily popular. It might have been because she wasn’t involved in a lot of extracurricular activities or because she was just humble or perhaps because she was the shortest girl in our grade.

Although it took an hour to decide on Chastity, that was the easy part of the night. As is Utah custom, we had to conjure an elaborate way to ask her.

“I have this gag gift my grandma got me for my birthday,” Nate said, pulling out a cardboard box full of paper clips.

Suddenly a plan was hatched in three phases:

1. Bronson and Arthur spent the rest of the night constructing a mile-long paperclip chain.
2. Nate and I rewrote songs to include Chastity’s name and relate to the prom somehow. (It was bad. “Hey Jude” became “Hey Chastity”). We then recorded the songs onto a CD.
3. We tied one end of the chain to her front door with a note and made a long, windy trail to the CD hidden in a tree in her back yard.

Despite a few hitches, the plan all worked out and she answered days later hanging paperclip chains from the tree in my front yard holding up papers with “YES!” written on them.

Per Utah ritual, the date lasted most of the day, beginning with a game of extreme croquet in the park and a fine dinner at a local restaurant.

The dance itself was one of the my most memorable high school experiences. I wasn’t in control of the situation at all, but I had people I could depend on. Chastity made it very clear from the second I saw her in that pink prom dress that her only goal was to have fun, so I had no expectations to hold to because that’s one thing I knew how to do with Arthur, Bronson, and Nate at my side.

We danced the night away. I made all the wrong steps, laughed at myself, and spent the night not caring. Apparently, the advice from my first date—not to worry—had sunk in. To this day, I remember vividly, doing the chicken dance with Chastity and Sister Imus, my seminary teacher, and taking down decorations afterwards.

After dropping off our dates, Nate and I had a nice conversation:

“Thanks for coming. I know we didn’t give you a choice, but I know we had a better time because you joined us.”

“I’m glad I did.”

“I know it’s really not your thing, so don’t feel obligated to do it again. It’s just the way I wanted to remember prom. Is that selfish?”

“No. It can’t be because I had fun and so did Chastity. We’re all better off because of it.”

“Good. Do you think you’ll do it again soon?”

“Not really. It’s a lot of work.”

And with that, I left the dating world for nearly four years.

The Lesson: With friends, any experience whether good, bad, or indifferent will become a better, more meaningful one.

End, Part 2

A (Very) Brief Heterosexual Dating History

Introduction

I don’t suppose many of you remember The Dating Game or Love Connection? Those cheesy game show with the live studio audience and the over-the-top one-liners? Those contestants asking flirtatious questions and describe steamy dates?

This series is dedicated to the six women I went on dates with. It is only now that I understand why things were not meant to work out with any of them. I suppose a lot of us view dating as a hit-and-miss game where we instantly click and move, in proper fashion, onto our happily ever afters.

In reality, though, we learn different lessons from these go-nowhere dates.

Bachelorette #1: Rachel

Height: 5’6”
Hair: Sandy blonde
Eyes: Blue
Talent: Concert piano
Random Fact: Cole pulled on her earlobe in first grade and he scared her so much she didn’t speak to her for eight years.

The Date:

“Would you like to go to the dance next Saturday?”

That’s as abruptly and unexpectedly as my plunge into datedom began. It wasn’t me asking the question, but rather Rachel. Perhaps the most timid person I’ve met in my life was asking me out.

It was in the hall after the last class of the day, which we had together. We put up our chairs and turned off our keyboards as the bell rang, dismissing us from Music Theory. It was my senior year of high school and dating was the last thing on my mind.

I suppose I thought it might be fun, but it seemed like more effort than it was worth. (The irony now haunts me). Rachel, Cole’s piano rival, really caught me off guard. I’d managed to go halfway through my senior year without going on a single date and here I was about to bring an end to that streak—one which I was almost proud of.

Rachel’s timid nature (much like my own at the time) was a force I could not overcome. Cliché as it might sound, she really did have puppy dog eyes and I couldn’t really so no to her.

“Sure,” I said with a little uncertainty clanging around in my throat.

She explained the details. The group we’d be going with, the pre-date and post-date plans, and we were set.

Spotting the unintended ambush, my best friend at the time, Nate, straggled a bit to talk to me afterwards. “So you’re going to Sadie Hawkins with Rachel, eh?”

“Yeah. I’m not really sure what that means, but I’m sure it will be fun.”

“Don’t be worried,” he reassured me. “Really. Getting asked out makes things so much easier. You don’t have to plan. You don’t have to stress. You’ve just got to enjoy the ride and say thank you a lot.”

My father offered similar advice:

“Have a great time. Don’t stress. I know you won’t get into any trouble.”

At 5 pm sharp, she arrived at my doorstep. I stepped out in my first tux ever with a turquoise bow tie and greeted her. Timid as field mice, whenever our skin touched or our eyes would make contact, we immediately jerked away. There on my doorstep, she nervously pinned on my cream-colored carnation boutonniere.

Following a potluck dinner with fifteen other couples, we went to the dance. I was so nervous. The ritual of taking pictures, dancing, and possibly kissing seemed so foreign.

Pictures were a breeze. We lined up, coupled up, looked at the camera and smiled. It was as simple as that.

Breathe! I told myself. What if she likes me? What am I supposed to do then? This is not anything to worry about.

But it was. I hadn’t danced since the stake production of The Music Man in 6th grade. I didn’t know any of the music being played. I didn’t really understand how anybody could enjoy this kind of experience.

She was patient. She’d been through this ritual a few times and understood why I might be nervous.

“This is my first time,” I explained.

She reassured me (like so many others), “It’s nothing to worry about. It just takes a little practice.”

She put my hands on her waist and on her shoulder and instructed me in the basic step and the box step. We stuck with that most of the night. Still, I managed to step on her feet multiple times per dance.

It was interesting to see her so confident in my presence, making her the most reassuring teacher I could have had that first attempt at a date. My neuroses kept me from conceiving the night as anything more than a disastrous experiment.

As our night came to an end and we found ourselves on my porch, I was pleased to find that (contrary to the expectations instilled in me by movies and television) a goodnight kiss was not expected, and a simple hug between friends sealed the night as an overall positive experience.

The next morning, before church, my parents asked how the night went and I told them it was fun.

“Why don’t you ask out Rachel, then? Sort of return the favor,” my father said.

“I don’t think so. I don’t want anything serious.”

The Lesson: The only way to learn is facing uncertainty head on.

End, Part 1

I Now Pronounce Thee…, Part 2

Precious

I'd been home from my mission exactly 9 days and it was Chenese and Nate's big day. Throughout high school, I'd considered Nate my best friend—my biggest competition in every sense of the word, though we never conceived each other as such. We were just friends seeking to make the school a better place. Nate and Chenese met under interesting circumstances and it didn't take long for love to blossom. He was her Model UN mentor and she was the girl everyone adored. Smart, talented, and perfect. For me, they became a sort of inspiration—a model for romance.

Bronson, Nate's fellow mentor, was visibly taken with Chenese from day one. It was that kind of puppy love that caused him to follow her, start up intellectual conversations to the ends of impressing her, and write borderline-creepy poetry about her. Nate understood that she did not find this attention flattering and one day came to her aid. Acting as hostess at a Model UN party, Chenese spent much of that night avoiding Bronson, but he managed to hover about her for a time always returning the conversation to himself as we do when we want to appear intellectual. Identifying the young woman's predicament (and likely seeing an opportunity to make a move himself), Nate came to Chenese's aid with a simple and smooth move.

Entering into the conversation, Nate smoothly distracted Bronson with a simple phrase taking advantage of a major chink in his armor:

"That's so interesting."

Seizing Bronson's attention by presenting him an opportunity to flex his intellectual muscles, Nate provided her a discrete exit, and himself with something much more meaningful. Their romance was sparked by a glance over his shoulder as she walked away and mouthed the words "Thank you" from across the room.

It was this story that solidified my relationship with Chenese and Nate. As the unattached nice guy in their life, I attained the status of designated third wheel in their relationship. They confided in me these romantic stories, their hopes and dreams, and their concerns for others.

I felt like a scientist making some sort of discovery. I was able to (in a very minimal way) see love germinate, sprout and grow over the course of four years. To return and see these two wed for time and all eternity was one of the most fortunate events of my life and has provided me with a vision of what love means. They had good times and bad, challenges and trials, yet nothing has phased the way that they treat each other or those around them. Seeing them look into each others' eyes and kiss over the alter –the way that they would any other day of their life together—took my breath away. Of course, each relationship is different from the next, but I learned from them that subtlety and consistency can be a fairytale romance in its own right.

End, Part 2.