Closure

Last Saturday, Andrew and I went up to Magna to experience the Magna Arts Festival that takes place on Magna Main Street. Local vendors set up booths up and down the street to sell their wares. While it wasn't exactly the most thrilling festival, it was still fun to wander up and down the street and to show Andrew a little bit of what I grew up with.

Earlier last week, I had looked up a list of activities that were going on during the festival. There would be live bands playing all day, and to my slight dismay, I recognized the names of the first two bands. My ex plays in both of them. Magna Main isn't exactly big, and the prospect of coming face-to-face with my ex after over five years was borderline terrifying. I knew I was over that whole relationship and had been for a while, but knowing that I could possibly talk to the man who wreaked such havoc on my emotional well being for so long was freaking me out a little bit. My main solace was in knowing that if I did end up talking to my ex, I would have my current (and amazing) boyfriend by my side. The boyfriend who is absolutely everything that my ex never was. I wouldn't have to face it alone.

As we were wandering on Saturday, I could hear the music. I could hear the bass. And I was instantly reminded of how many times I had watched Mike perform in gigs. It was a little distracting to be constantly aware of just how close I was to seeing him. Andrew and I wandered down that way after the gig had ended, but when we got close enough to see the stage and the people setting up, Andrew steered me away. I had warned him of the situation, and I don't think he wanted to see Mike any more than I did. Either that or he just sensed my nerves.

But as Andrew and I headed in the opposite direction, my parents caught up to us, and my mom was determined to say hello to Mike. As she marched toward the stage, I held back for a second. And then I realized that I was okay. There was no reason not to talk to Mike. So I stood with Andrew as my mom hailed Mike. He came over. We said hello. We chatted for maybe five minutes.

It was weird.

But not because I suddenly felt a flood of emotions. Not because I was fighting to keep myself under control in the presence of the man who embodies all things that made me terrified of relationships for so long. It was weird because of how little I actually did feel. I looked at Mike, and obviously I recognized him. I recognized the scar on his finger because I was with him when he got it. I understood when he told me his fingers were bleeding from playing bass because I had seen it happen countless times before. I remembered a lot of the things we had done together. I even thought about how I used to feel about him, both the love and the anger. But . . . none of it mattered. He really had become just some guy that I knew a long time ago. (He was also talking like a responsible adult—he's been married for four years and holds a management position. That is definitely not the Mike I knew.)

As I walked away from this situation that I had contemplated for a long time (because every time I went home, I wondered if I would run into him), I thought about just how much I've grown since Mike was a part of my life. I thought about my life right now and how far I've come. I am a college graduate. I have a steady, full-time job in my field of study. I am completely independent, and I take care of myself. I have an amazingly wonderful boyfriend who treats me far, far better than I ever thought a man could be capable of treating a woman. And I am happier now than I think I have ever been.

I didn't realize it, but in going so long without so much as speaking to Mike left me without a full sense of closure. Now that we've crossed paths, I can effectively set aside everything that may have still been lingering. I've seen him face-to-face, and he holds absolutely nothing for me. Nothing. Everything that matters to me is in the here and now, and the past has nothing to do with it except that it led me here. Do you have any idea how wonderful that feels?

I will not freak out.

This is a post I wrote back in May, around the time that Andrew first made a move to date me. I find it kind of funny to read now. Anything in brackets [] is my current-day commentary. (Yes, I am aware that I am a dork.)

It truly is incredible how quickly things can change. One thing can change and throw your whole life into turmoil. Okay, so turmoil is a bit dramatic, but it's kind of true.

Here's the low down: A week ago, life was normal. The only minor anomaly was that there was this guy who maybe seemed like he was sort of interested. I will call this boy The Photog. [Bahaha, I love the attempt at anonymity. And the fact that I felt the need to shorten "photographer."] We had been talking about watching a movie or something. It started out as a group thing, and then it somehow managed to get whittled down to a one-on-one thing. But I didn't think too much of it, because pretty much every time I think, "Hey, this guy is flirting a little bit," absolutely nothing happens. Nothing. Ever. That's how lucky I am with the guys.

The day that we were supposed to watch the movie came and went. Stuff came up, and I couldn't do it that night, so we rescheduled. But in the course of rescheduling, I somehow ended up getting invited to go to a barbecue at his friend's house. Alarm bells started clanging right away. Why alarm bells, you ask? Why wasn't I just excited that a cute boy (for he is pretty cute) liked hanging out with me enough that he wanted to take me to a social event? Here's why: It was far too close to a date. It meant something more than simply hanging out. And as soon as that happens, I start freaking out.

The barbecue was . . . interesting. It wasn't a date. He didn't open my doors. He barely even talked. There were so many long pauses. [I have since come to realize that Andrew isn't a major talker. He talks, but he doesn't always feel the need to talk. We still have long pauses. But they're not awkward.] Not to mention that I ended up knowing the guys that were throwing the barbecue, which was a little awkward. [Andrew now lives with those guys and I see them all the time. It is no longer awkward.] It was an all-around weird night that ended with watching the originally planned movie, after which The Photog didn't even walk me home. His roommates watched the movie with us, which made the whole thing just a little odder. As was the theme for the night. [I have since found out that Andrew wanted to make a move that night. From what I gather, he was a mite frustrated with his roommates for not taking a hint.]

I went home mostly just feeling confused. I had no idea what the crap had just happened, mostly. So I wrote it off as a weird night that made for a really good story, and tried not to think about it anymore.

The next night, a few of us went to the hot tub. I didn't invite The Photog. I invited a girlfriend who invited The Photog's roommate, and wouldn't you know it, The Photog joined us. He promptly sat next to me. And there were other things that made me wonder some more about his intentions, which kind of confused me even more because the whole previous night hadn't seemed like a ton of fun. The Photog was again less than chatty all night, and I decided he wasn't really interested. Confusion eliminated.

Until he texted me the next day (Friday) to ask me out for Saturday. Cue louder warning bells and more freaking out. You mean all those little things I noticed and probably blew out of proportion were real? I wasn't making stuff up? He was now asking me on a legitimate date? WHAT THE CRAP. I was so nervous. Here's a fraction of what was going through my mind: Do I like The Photog? Do I want to go out with him? Do I want to date him? Do I want to marry him? Do I want to have his little Photog babies?! [Gotta love having a girl brain. Except no, no you don't. It sucks.] Never mind the fact that it was our first date. Never mind the fact that I had been complaining to my roommates for months about how I just wanted to be asked on a date. By a cute guy. That I could potentially like back. Never mind that everything I said I wanted was actually coming about. I was beginning the freak-out in earnest.

Saturday night came. And the date went well. All those things The Photog didn't do on our non-date were things that he did do on our legit-date. And then some. He was a gentleman; conversation flowed; he complimented me; I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I even left my hand available for hand-holding during the movie, though he didn't take the opportunity. [Andrew told me that he didn't make a move simply because it was our first date. Apparently making a move before going on a date at all is kosher, but making a move on a first date is frowned upon.] I invited him to come in and hang out after the date, though he couldn't. He gave me a really good hug.

And I sort of, kind of, maybe a little bit, started to like him.

I didn't see The Photog on Sunday. He had gone to Moab to use his mad photo-taking skills on the eclipse. So I spent the day filling in all my girlfriends on what was going down. Then on Monday I did my best not to think about him. Not to want him to text me. And eventually, I flat-out forgot about it because I got busy at work. And then, when I wasn't even thinking about whether I would get a text from him, I checked my phone. And I had a text from him. Telling me about his Moab trip. It made my stomach leap into my throat, which then made me feel like a total idiot. [And distracted me so badly that I tried to walk out of Walmart without paying for any of the things in my cart.]

I hung out with him and a bunch of other people on Monday night. I was a little bit awkward, like I sometimes am when I am interested in someone or I think they might be interested in me. I didn't talk to him as much as I should have, or sit as close to him during the movie as I should have. He left, and I wondered what kind of impression I had given. Would he text me again? Would he ask me out again?

This morning, I check Facebook. I have a message. From The Photog. Asking me if I want to go to his place to watch a movie. (Movies are apparently the way to go right now.) We set a time. He offers to buy shakes at Sonic. I accept. It's a pseudo-date. My brain starts thinking about how he could hold my hand tonight. Or cuddle with me. Either of those are real, legitimate possibilities. The Photog is interested—I can't really deny that. And I'm getting interested back. This is something that could happen. It could progress. Getting into a real relationship for the first time in five years is a real, tangible possibility.

I will not freak out. I will not freak out. I will not freak out.

I am so totally freaking out.

*UPDATE* Tuesday night. The Photog and I go to Sonic and get shakes. We bring them back to his place and turn on Harper's Island (because what's a little romance without some serial killers?). [I still legitimately love that we first held hands while watching Harper's Island. It makes me happy inside.] We watch two episodes, arms completely touching, legs resting against each other depending on how I shift my feet on the coffee table. My hand is completely available, and all I can think is, "Photog! Take my hand, dangit!" I even see him look at my hand. Multiple times. [He has since made fun of himself for how long it took him to psych himself up.] He knows what to do—he just has to get up the courage. Then, halfway through episode three, he does. He takes my hand. And it's adorable. He rubs my thumb with his thumb. He lets go and shifts hand positions so that my arm rests on top of his arm and he can rub my arm with his opposite hand. He plays with my fingers and watches our hands together. I can't help but smile. [This is such a detailed story. But it was all so new that everything was burned into my memory.]

Episode three ends, and we disengage so he can start episode four. It starts, and I decide to snuggle in and put my head on his shoulder. As we shift, he lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around me instead. I nestle into the crook of his arm, my hand resting on his chest. He strokes my hand. He smells good.

Episode four ends, and I sit up because I really need to go home and go to sleep. He walks me home. At my door, I go in for the hug, and he kisses me on the cheek. He gives me a squeeze, and as we pull out of the hug, we look at each other, and he goes in for the kiss. I kiss him back. It's short and sweet, and he pulls away before I'm quite ready for him to. My hand slides down his arm, and we hold hands for a second as I say, "I'll see you later." He smiles a very self-satisfied smile [he looked so proud of himself], says "See you," and walks away.

I get a text 10 minutes later: "Good night ;)"

My five-year drought is officially over.

I am so totally freaking out.

Three days later, we were officially a couple. I know it's a little campy to post something like this, and I'm sorry for the length, but I ran across the draft today, and I thought it was kind of funny to remember just how nerve racking this was for me. You will all be happy to know that I am no longer freaking out.

Interesting. Very interesting.

First of all, my vacation was fabulous. Excluding the day when my parents' rental care got broken into and two iPads, a Kindle, an iPhone, and a credit card were stolen. Not a good day. But the rest of the trip was wonderful and much needed. I loved spending time with my family, even though my nieces and nephews are crazy. Adorable, but crazy.

I was so happy to get home. And then, the night I got back to Provo, I dropped my phone in the toilet. Yes. That really happens, people, so watch out. I had to buy a new phone this morning, which sucked. A whole lot. But I will survive, and at least I now have another functioning phone. And most of my stuff was backed up, so I didn't even really lose anything. Hooray.

This post was not intended to be an update, however. I've just been thinking about some things lately. Ever since I started dating Andrew, I've been thinking about how interesting the whole situation is. I have been hanging out with Andrew since about January, when his apartment was put in my apartment's FHE group. Our apartments starting hanging out more and more, and we became good friends. I remember telling my roommates that I could see myself crushing on Andrew, but I never really let it develop.

So when Andrew suddenly started paying me more attention and asking me out the middle of May, it totally caught me off guard. I hadn't been looking in his direction at all at that point. There was none of the flirting and the wondering if he liked me and the agonizing over the minute details of our time together. And then he kept asking me out. And then he held my hand. And then he kissed me. He took everything out of my hands, which made things super easy for me. I didn't make any effort with him—I was simply myself. I didn't try to get him to make a move, I didn't play any games, I didn't spend my time wondering why he wasn't doing anything. When he first asked me out, I wasn't sure if I liked him. But then he swooped in with the full force of his gentlemanly charm and convinced me that he was worth it. And it worked.

It's such a stark contrast to everything with Der Junge. I did everything I could think of to get Der Junge to ask me out, barring simply telling him (because I'm chicken liver). I worked at that for months. And I would get so excited at the slightest sign of interest and so devastated at any sign of disinterest. I put so much effort into the possibility of a relationship, and it got me absolutely nowhere. It was incredibly frustrating.

So Andrew gets major kudos. He made the effort. He decided he wanted to be with me and he made it happen. In my mind, that is honest to goodness how things went down. And guess what? I am happy. I may have had my minor freak-outs because I wasn't sure if I was ready for a relationship, but I got over it. I'm having fun, and it's wonderful. This is how guys need to act in the dating world: Man up, ask a girl out, and convince her that you're worth her time. I'm not saying it will work every time, but hey, it worked for Andrew, so why couldn't it work for others too?

Life Is Funny

This will be a short post, but I have a couple of updates. And while I'm sure barely anybody ever reads my blog, I still feel obligated to keep it at least marginally up to date.

First of all, the Civil Wars concert was INCREDIBLE. I am two for two for awesome concerts this summer (the first being the Black Keys). I love Joy Williams and John Paul White. They were so awesome, and so cute and funny on stage. They sound just as good live as they do recorded. I was completely entranced by their music the whole night. I have pictures and video that will hopefully one day make it onto the interwebs, but that probably won't be for a while, seeing as how crazy busy I am right now. They will come, though, I swear.

Second, I leave for California at the butt crack of dawn the day after tomorrow. Woo hoo! I still have a zillion and a half things to do before then, but then I will be off for ten straight days of vacation. I am so excited, and I need this so badly. A break from life will be wonderful.

And third, but certainly not last or least or whatever else it may be, I started dating someone*. That's right, folks, the five-year drought is over! His name is Andrew. I kind of like him.

*No, he is not the guy I've written about on the blog before. That guy is a doofus and never made a move. Andrew made all the right moves and didn't play any games. Therefore, he wins.

Doors Are Hard

You know what never fails to be awkward? When you push open a door from one side at the exact same time that someone else pulls it open from the other side.

Especially when that other person is a guy who's a foot taller than me and I nearly collide with his chest.

Did I mention that he's an attractive guy and that I wouldn't mind if he asked me out?

Yep. Awkward for sure.

This was more difficult than it seemed.

Day Thirty-Nine: Things you want to say to five different people.

Ooooh, this could be interesting. Here goes nothing.

1. Der Junge: In case you didn't already know, I'm interested in you. (And seriously, if you didn't already know this, you are blind as a friggin' bat.) I don't necessarily need you to be sure you want to date me (though I wouldn't mind it one bit), but would it hurt you to give me a shot? How about you just ask me on one little date (it can be inexpensive, or even free, I don't care) and spend the evening deciding if you could see yourself dating me? I know for a fact that you don't know what you want. So give me a shot and find out for sure if I fit your qualifications. All I'm asking for is a chance. This isn't a marriage proposal. It's one date. 
2. The "Party Apartment": I know you girls think you're all that and a bag of chips because you have lots of parties and always have boys over at your apartment. But really, it's just kind of obnoxious. You're not the "party apartment" of the ward, as you have dubbed yourselves. Many of us in the complex have parties and invite people over—you're not the only ones capable of being social. And most of the people that you invite over started their socialness in this ward by hanging out with my apartment. So stop acting like you're God's gift to the 192nd ward. You're kind of just sweeping up our sloppy seconds. (Sorry . . . that was catty, I know. But these girls drive me up a wall. Holy cow.)
3. John Paul White: I love you. I really do. I know you're married and you have long hair and you have lots of tattoos, but I love you. And it's not just because you look a whole heckuva lot like Johnny Depp. It's because your lyrics speak to me and your voice makes me absolutely melt. I am entranced by your guitar because you make it look like an extension of your arms. You play with no difficulty, and I ache to have that kind of talent. You sing while playing intricate melodies and thumping rhythms, and I'm baffled as to how you keep it all straight. It would be one of the best nights of my life if at your concert in May I could actually meet you and tell you a small part of this in person.
4. President Dieter F. Uchtdort: Thank you so, so much for pretty much every talk you have ever given in conference. There is something about your persona and your voice that I can relate to. Your soothing voice is a comfort to me, and you always manage to say exactly what I need to hear. I especially thank you for your "Forget Me Not" talk at women's conference. Being in the same room with you made your words that much more powerful. When you evoked the authority of your priesthood office and proclaimed that I am not forgotten by my Father in Heaven, chills coursed through my body. I could feel in the depths of my soul the truthfulness of your words. The Spirit spoke to me very clearly and emphasized your point. It is a lesson that I very much needed, and I will forever be grateful to you for providing it.
5. Coach Dave Rose: You, sir, are amazing. You have eclipsed 20 wins for the seventh season in a row, which is each one of the seasons you have coached basketball at BYU. That is absolutely incredible. You managed to achieve your 100th home victory before reaching even 10 home losses. You somehow succeeded in managing the insanity that was Jimmermania. After losing your best offensive player and your best defensive player, you still created a competitive team. I have only recently started paying really close attention to BYU hoops, and I have to say that it has a whole lot to do with you. Jimmer and Jackson may have been the shiny objects that caught my eye, but it didn't take me long to realize who was really behind the success. For the sake of every BYU hoops fan everywhere, please stay. Please stay for a really, really long time. 

Okay, that was a lot harder than I thought it would be. But I covered boys, people I don't like, music, church, and sports, so I call this post a success.

I don't know that I want to get into this.

Day Thirty-Six: Something you can't seem to get over.

Uh oh . . . this question could open quite the can of worms. We'll see how deeply I decide to actually delve into this subject. I warn you now: this could become very much a woe-is-me post if I'm not careful, which is part of the reason I don't particularly want to get into a lot of detail. But this is the blog challenge I chose for myself, and I've been pretty honest in all of my other posts, so I guess I'll continue that trend.

The one thing that I just can't seem to get over is that I haven't been in a real, honest-to-goodness relationship in nearly five years. You read that right—FIVE YEARS. And if you think that's a long time (which you might not, I don't know), you can imagine how I feel having lived through it.

I know that some of that time is due to my disastrous first relationship. It has taken me a really long time to get over things, and I know that spills over into how people perceive me. People are usually more perceptive than I give them credit for, so I'm sure there were guys that avoided me because I seemed emotionally unavailable. And I was. I don't think I would have been a good partner for anybody—I'm pretty sure I would have been a jealous witch, and nobody wants that.

But I'm to a point in my life where I am ready to move on. I want to try my hand at being in a relationship that isn't dysfunctional. I want to see what it's like to be with someone who actually tries to make things work, and if they don't end up working, is man enough to talk to me about it if I haven't picked up on it already. Basically, I want a normal relationship. One that might end, which is okay, or that might not end, which is better.

Here's the issue: No one seems to be interested in me. At least not interested enough to pursue me. The only guy that seemed pretty serious about dating me was over two years ago, but I wasn't interested. That is the only case I can think of in the last five years when I have had a legitimate shot with someone, and I chose not to take it. There was another guy a little while after that who seemed interested, until he dropped off the face of the planet. That is two guys in five years that have taken real interest. Two. And neither of them actually turned into anything. It doesn't matter how hard I work to get the point across that I'm interested in someone—they never seem to take the hint. Or the nudge. Or the shove. It doesn't matter how obvious I am; I never get what I want. It doesn't matter how much I flirt; no one ever asks for my number.

While I know that it is ridiculous, I can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with me. Am I broken somehow? Is my emotional baggage so apparent that no one wants to touch this mess? Is there something about me that is abhorrent to guys? Am I ugly? (I hate it when that question pops into my mind, because I do know that I am not ugly. I'm not drop-dead gorgeous, but I'm not hideous either. But the question still nags.) Or am I simply too strong? too independent? too intelligent? If that's the case, then boys are stupid. Oh, wait. I already knew that.

So that's what I can't get over. I can't get over the fact that there have been so many guys in my life that have passed me by without a second glance. And I'm going to stop with the self-pity, because you know what? I'm awesome. I really am. I've got talents and hobbies and passions and dreams. I'm a good person. I'm a fun person. I'm a college graduate with a full-time job who is supporting herself. I've got everything going for me. People obviously like hanging out with me, so why the hell don't the guys just man up and ask me out? It's not that difficult!

Yikes.

Day Twenty-Eight: Your last kiss.

Truthfully? I don't remember when my last kiss was. I honestly don't. I think it was in March. Of 2007. Yeah. Thanks, blog challenge, for making me be brutally honest with myself and show all 15 people who read my blog just how lame I am. And how not exciting my last kiss was, since I can't even remember the events surrounding it. Not that it was exactly a good point in my relationship. I broke up with the guy a month later. So I guess it's understandable that I wouldn't really remember the details.

Though maybe I'm not lame. Maybe I'm just holding out for someone good. I don't really want my next kiss to be some noncommittal thing that doesn't mean anything. Though there are times when I think maybe that's what I want, I'm pretty sure I'm just fooling myself. I think I would feel terrible if I had a NCMO. I would feel guilty and I wouldn't like myself. That's just not the kind of person I am.

The next time I kiss someone, I will most likely be in a relationship with him. That's just how I roll. I'm not a super flirty girl who gets a lot of action. I never have been, and I don't see that changing any time soon. Physical contact with a guy scares me, actually. I have a really hard time breaking that touch barrier.  It's not that I don't like being touched—it just means something to me, which makes it more difficult for me to do it flippantly.

Well, I think that's enough embarrassing details about my life for now. Don't judge, mmkay?

Always the Same Thing

Day Twenty-Seven: Something you're currently worrying about.

I'm worrying about what I always seem to be worrying about: boys. If I don't have a guy, I worry about why I don't have a guy. If I have a crush, I worry about why he's not doing what I think he should be doing. If I have a legitimate prospect, I worry about what I'm supposed to do and whether I really want to date him.

I am currently doing the second. Der Junge is infuriating me. We hung out four Fridays in a row, with a few Saturdays and Sundays and various other days thrown in there. I was seeing him quite frequently. And then, suddenly, he stopped responding to my texts for a week. And then the first thing he did when he saw me next was give me a hug. Umm . . . hello, confusing.

I'm mostly just frustrated. I have done everything I'm supposed to do to show a guy that I'm interested: I've invited Der Junge to countless activities, shown interest when he says we should do something (though apparently I was supposed to nail down a date as soon as he offered), done one-on-one things, brought him medicine when he was sick. For the love of Pete, I have even asked this guy on a date. And sort of tricked him into another (see this post for reference). And tomorrow, I'm going to do the most girly of all girly dating tactics: take him cookies. Ugh.

That is what I'm worried about. I'm worried about finally hitting the point where it's obvious Der Junge isn't interested and I should just back off. I hate getting to that point. I hate conceding defeat. Especially when there have been so many good things to lead me to believe that there could be potential here. We work well together. Seriously, we do. I'm not just making that up. Which is what makes giving up so much harder.

This could be fun.

Day Twenty-Six: 5 things that irritate you about the opposite sex/same sex.

Yay for more lists! You know how much I love them.

Men

1. Douche-baggery. There is nothing quite as unattractive as a complete jerk. I don't care how cool a guy thinks he is—if he treats people (especially women) like crap, I will write him off in an instant, no matter how physically attractive he is.
2. No initative. It bugs the crap out of me when guys don't do anything for themselves, such as not asking girls on dates because they're afraid of girls or because they don't know what they want. You'll never get over a fear unless you face it, and you'll never start figuring out what you want if you don't start looking.
3. Flakiness. I hate it when people say they'll go to something and then don't show. Or when they say, "Hey, we should do this," and then never follow up on it.
4. Arrogance. If a guy thinks he's all that and a bag of chips, you can bet I won't.
5. Whininess. Especially when it comes to dating. I understand that dating is a pain—I whine about it too much, and I know that. But you're the guy! You have every opportunity in the world to make dating be the way you want it to be! If a guy is smart in how he pursues a girl, he has a decent chance of getting her. Girls don't have the same luxury. Girls who pursue guys are scary.

Women

1. Man-eaters. I seriously hate it when girls lead guys on. We're all doing the same thing in single Mormondom, and it's not fair to play with someone's emotions when they could be off trying to find a significant other elsewhere.
2. Contrived giddiness. I hate it when otherwise normal girls become the giggliest things in existence when a boy enters the room. 
3. Brainlessness. So many girls don't think before they do something, especially in regards to men, and it annoys the tar out of me.
4. Cattiness. I hate drama, especially of the female variety, because it usually revolves around some kind of perceived competition over a guy. I usually peace out when it gets to that point—if the guy wants me, he'll choose me. I shouldn't have to resort to cattiness to steal him from some other girl.
5. Fakeness. If a girl doesn't like me, chances are that I don't like her either, and there's no reason to fake it. I'm not saying we should be openly hostile—we should still be civil. But don't act like you're my best friend. Because you're not.

GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAL!

Day Seven: Short-term goals for this month.

My number-one goal for this month is to make getting up at 6:30 to go to the gym a habit. I need to convince myself that I have to get up, because then I can have my whole evening to myself and I don't have to worry about not meeting my gym goal because something fun comes up. I'm sorry, but the gym isn't ever going to take precedence over doing fun things with my friends. If I remember that, getting up might not be so difficult.

Goal number two is to have more meaningful scripture study. I've been feeling more and more lately like I need to pay more attention to what I'm reading and actually write down the thoughts and insights I have. With how much I write in my journal, you wouldn't think that's difficult for me, but it is. Which is why I've decided that I'm going to make my regular day-to-day journal double as my spiritual journal. It should be anyway because I need to write down the spiritual experiences I have in my everyday life, but sometimes it doesn't work that way.

A third goal is to listen to conference talks while I get ready in the mornings. It's a perfect time to do it because I'm not doing anything else. I usually just listen to music, but if I switch to conference talks, I can listen to two a day. I used to be really good at it about a year ago, and it was so cool to see what things in my daily life reminded me of talks that I had listened to recently. It was a great way to listen to the counsel of the prophets again and to be reminded of the things that I need to work on.

A fourth goal is to get some quality one-on-one hang-out time with Der Junge. I tried on Friday, but he was hanging out with his roommate, who got invited along on our excursion. It's not a big deal, since his roommate is my friend too, but I really wanted to just hang out with Der Junge. That's proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be. However, Der Junge let it slip that he has never seen any of the Indiana Jones movies (a travesty, I know!), so I promptly borrowed all three of them from my parents and I will force him to watch them with me. So maybe that will work in my favor one of these days.

So there you have it. My goals. I didn't realize I had so many.

A new year, a new me.

Or something along those lines.

Hey look, it's the obligatory resolutions post. Sure, I'm about two weeks late, but I'm close enough, right?

So my resolutions have been rather fluid for this year. I have goals, but I don't think I thought of any of them as resolutions, per se. There were just things I knew I wanted to do with my life, and I happened to be thinking about them at around New Year's. So I guess they qualify.

My main goal is one that has been on my mind for a few months now, and I am proud to say that I am going strong after two weeks. I decided that I wanted to switch back to 24 Hour Fitness (mostly because I detested going to Gold's) and buy a few personal training sessions (if not more). In the last two weeks, I have only missed a single day of going to the gym. (Not counting Sundays, of course.) I'm pretty proud of myself, and if the scale is any indication, I've actually made some progress. Awesome, no? I sure think so. I'm also rediscovering that I quite love hopping on the elliptical and just going for an hour. It feels super good. I also enjoy that the machine tells me I burn about 700 calories when I do that.

Another goal I've been kicking around is blogging more. I was supposed to blog about dating and all that jazz, but right after I decided to do that, I actually started having real dating experiences. Well, more like hanging out experiences, but there were actually guys (er . . . guy . . . [you know, Der Junge]) that I was interested in. And as soon as I started thinking about writing about actual people, I chickened out a wee bit. I was mostly just terrified that things would get back to Der Junge and that I would be mortified. A bit juvenile, it's true, but alas, I can't help myself.

Instead of writing about dating, I've compiled a couple of blogging challenges to create one big challenge that should cover about 45 days. I've been meaning to start it, but I swear the amount of free time I have has been severely diminished somehow. It's probably because I've been getting up at 6:30 (most days) to work out and not getting home from work until 6:00. Any social activities usually take up my extra free time. However, I will find time to fit blogging in!

A third goal is to finally change my boy situation. Yes, I'm saying it: I WANT A BOYFRIEND. At some point this year, I want to end my drought. It's been coming up on five years (wow, look at me divulge potentially embarrassing information!) since I've been in a real relationship, and you know what? That is plenty long. I'm ready for something more than hanging out and flirting. Unfortunately, I am not in complete control of this goal, and I honestly have no idea what more to do to help my cause (with Der Junge in particular, but I'm definitely open to other prospects).

And there you have it. My goals for this year. Well, the biggies, anyway. Here's hoping I can make 2012 freaking awesome.

Giving Thanks Day 29: Courage

To kind of piggyback on yesterday's post, this morning I woke up to find a card that had been pushed under my door. It was from Brittany. She told me she thought I was making an impact with my actions and encouraged me to follow through with a decision I made last night while we were talking. That card helped me set a deadline to do what I said I would do.

Part of me doesn't really want to get too detailed with this story simply because I don't know who'll read it and figure out the people involved. The other part of me doesn't give a crap about who knows what. I'm giving in to the latter part, though I am going to omit names. I don't want to make this too obvious. (And I apologize if this post gets lengthy—I will attempt to be as concise as possible.)

To preface, I have had a rough couple of weeks. I've been stressed and anxious and sleep deprived, which only enhances the stress and anxiety. In the midst of all my venting to Brittany last night, I mentioned that I kind of wanted to ask a certain guy in our ward if I could just talk to him. I wanted to talk to someone who was outside of the situation and who I didn't already talk to every day. Not to mention that I've been pretty interested in this guy for a while now. Brittany fully supported this idea and told me to ask him to get hot cocoa.

So today, I actually did it. I texted him. I put myself out there. And it was really difficult for me, mostly because I just don't ever do that. I hate looking needy or vulnerable because it opens me up to heartache. It's so much easier to just kind of shut myself off and convince myself that if a guy doesn't see past my walls on his own, he's not worth my time. However, I have come to the conclusion recently that this is a stupid way to live my life. So I took steps to change it. I texted this guy (who I will from now on refer to as Der Junge ["the boy" in German] because it's easier than "this guy") and told him that I needed to talk to someone. I asked if he had time to get hot cocoa sometime, and he responded, "Yeah for sure." Score one point for Lindy.

We set a time to go tonight, and I was super proud of myself for about five minutes until reality set in. I had just told Der Junge that I needed to talk to him, and he said sure. That meant that I would actually have to talk to him. That he would ask me what was going on. That I would have to open up. Yikes. But I couldn't back out, and I didn't really want to back out. I wanted to do this—that's the whole reason I sent the dang text to begin with.

So at 6:30, I headed over to Der Junge's apartment, and we drove over to the Cocoa Bean. Der Junge paid for my pumpkin steamer (score one point for Der Junge), and then we stole a couple of comfy armchairs. And we talked. And talked. And talked. For three and a half hours. Without a pause. Without a hint of awkwardness. It was comfortable and it was natural. We talked about everything from dating to books to gay people. (Yes, gay people.) We had meaningful conversations, we were open with each other, and we got along so much better than I could have ever anticipated. I didn't worry about how he was viewing me our how my words were being perceived. We just kind of seemed to understand each other.

When Der Junge finally decided it was time to leave, he was surprised to find that it was 10:00. He thought it was 8:30 at the latest. He blew off a friend he was supposed to work out with at 9:00 because he just lost track of the time. That has to be a good sign, right? I sure like to think so. Another good sign is that we've been texting since we got back to the complex. I'm a bit of a happy girl tonight.

So today, I am thankful that I had courage and that I did something that was scary. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone. I broke out of my shell a bit. And while it could have easily blown up in my face and made me feel like the biggest idiot in the entire world, it didn't. In fact, it was the complete opposite. The whole evening was a smashing success, and it all came about because I had the courage to do something different. I don't know if this will lead to anything. It may, or it may not. But even if nothing comes of tonight, I am still thankful I did it. Because I grew from it and I learned from it, which is what this life is all about.

The Joys of Living in a Provo Singles Ward

This semester has been rather awesome so far. Let me expound upon why.

First of all, I have seriously amazing roommates. The four of us get along great. We started the bonding process by going to Awful Waffle the first week Brittany and Alison moved in. Roommate dinner was a fabulous idea, let me tell you. The bonding further solidified when we threw a massive party for the BYU football season opener. It included this awesome banner:

Yes, that is our balcony, inviting all of Carriage Cove to our party. We had a pretty awesome turnout, too—a good 20 or 25 people showed up, some of which weren't even in our ward. I would say it was a success.

Since that party, we have held Dessert Club, game nights, and dinners. Because the 309ers are just that awesome. A Sunday dinner of the best lasagna ever (my lasagna, naturally) is in the works, as is a trip to the Haunted Forest in American Fork and a waffle party. We go to every ward function (which is a definite improvement for me) and we get invited to all sorts of fun things like movies and bowling parties. I know more guys in the ward than girls, which is the way it should be, right?

So why am I sitting here detailing how social I've been for the past month? Because, as lame as this is going to make me seem, this isn't normal for me. Especially not in this apartment complex. But we had a huge turnover this past fall, and it made all the difference in the world. The ward is incredible. People go to activities and get to know each other. It's awesome.

The whole point of this super socialness is to meet guys. That should be no surprise. And it has worked. I've even managed to develop a few crushes, some more intense than others.

Guy 1 is the main crush. He's super cute and incredibly nice. I met him at some ward events the beginning of the semester, but I didn't really take notice until the football party. He knew my name when I couldn't remember his, which is not usual for me. He sings (super bonus points!) and is just an all-around awesome guy. He goes to all the ward activities and generally comes to the things we invite him to. I spent an awesome amount of time talking to him at Break the Fast on Sunday. I'm pretty sure it was the first time we actually sat down and had a legitimate one-on-one conversation, and I quite enjoyed myself. In the course of this conversation, I discovered that HE SPEAKS GERMAN! Despite the fact that he completely flustered me and I could barely carry on even the remotest conversation with him in German, it meant that we have something in common, and he said he wants to get together and practice sometime. Which is awesome because a) I really do want to get my German skills back and b) I just want to spend more time with him.

Guy 2 is awesome and very attractive, but he's a terrible friend. He never comes to things I invite him to, and when he says he will let me know about things that are going on, he promptly forgets to tell me about them. He didn't come to my football party. He didn't let me know when he bought tickets to the Jimmer's All Stars game. Like I said, terrible friend. But he's hilarious, and we have a great time whenever we do hang out. I make fun of him constantly, and he knows how to take it. I don't have a full-blown crush on him, but it could develop quickly if given the chance.

Guy 3 isn't really a crush at all; he's become that guy friend that I could probably talk to about the guys I'm actually interested in. He's surprising and unexpected. Every time I think I have him figured out, he throws something else at me. He's a lot deeper than he seems at first glance. And while he is a dang cute guy who could probably have his pick of just about any girl in the ward, he seems a little lonely. There's just so much to him, and I'm completely intrigued. I spent most of the day with him on Saturday because I gave him my dad's ticket to the BYU vs. SJSU game. It was an odd combination to be at the game with this guy from my ward and my two brothers, but it was pretty fun. I learned all sorts of things about this guy that I never thought I'd learn, and I'm really glad that we've become such good friends lately. It's really nice to have guys around that I'm completely comfortable with. I would say that a crush could potentially emerge here, but I really do like just being friends.

And this is really just the beginning. There are quite a few other guys in the ward that I would gladly go on dates with because they're all really cool and really nice. There are some amazing people in this ward, and I'm so glad that my efforts to leave were all in vain. I don't know why exactly I was supposed to stay in Carriage Cove for another year, but I'm going to hazard a guess that it has something to do with the people here.

There's only one catch with this plethora of guys: They're not asking me out. And they're not asking my roommates out. I don't understand that. Do they think we're constantly hanging out with them and inviting them over just to be nice? If so, they are sorely mistaken. Here's hoping they get with the program really soon.

One Date ≠ Eternal Commitment

Has anyone else noticed that it seems like everybody puts way too much pressure on a first date? Just do a Google image search for "first date." All you see are pictures of couples looking dreamily into each other's eyes, kissing, or holding hands. Come on, people. I Googled "first date," not "established couples."

I have never understood why people put so much importance on the first date. Isn't that when you're supposed to get to know your date? And even if you already know the person you're going on a date with through hanging out and whatnot, getting to know someone one-on-one is a little bit different. A first date should be low key. It shouldn't be a huge production.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there's no reason to get excited about a first date. If I'm super into a guy and he asks me out, you bet I'm going to be excited. But I'm not going to expect it to turn into something right away. Am I going to hope for something to happen? Of course. At least before the date. If the date turns out to be awful and awkward, then of course the excitement will die. But really, if I'm already into him, I doubt it would be awful and awkward. But that's beside the point.

I have known so many girls who build up the first date to the point that they make themselves sick with nerves. I have also known many girls who have stressed that because a friend asked them on a date, it automatically means that he is completely into them and that at some point they're going to have to tell him that they just want to be friends. I've always thought that was ridiculous. Just take it for what it is—a first date. Flattering, yes. A proposal, no.

This is such a pervasive notion in Provo. Seriously. At FHE a couple of weeks ago, we got into this discussion about how it's hard for guys to ask girls out and what kind of date is good for the first date and blah blah blah. Very common talk in Provo. My roommates and I tried to tell the guys that first dates should be simple and inexpensive. No really expensive dinners. No marathon dates. Not even any movies (there's no chance to talk).

One of the guys in our group just wouldn't listen to us. He started going off about how he thinks a perfect date is driving a girl up to Park City, eating a really nice dinner, and going up the ski lift to watch the sunset, or some such ridiculous thing like that. I turned to him and said very bluntly, "That is a terrible first date idea. Terrible." He looked baffled. I had to explain that a first date like that would just be super awkward. That's a proposal date. Who thinks that something as romantic as that is a good idea when you barely even know the person you're going on a date with?

First dates need to consist of ice cream or a casual dinner or mini golf or bowling. Something that gives you a good opportunity to talk, to get to know one another, to figure out if a second date is a possibility. That's what a first date is for—to figure out if you want a second date. Not to figure out if you want to spend the rest of eternity with that person. That's just too much pressure.

And holy cow, this turned into a much longer post than I thought it would. And much more of a rant than I intended. It's probably boring, but whatevs.

Flirting Is Fun!

If there is one thing that is omnipresent in a Provo singles ward, it is flirting. Flirting is the elite way of communicating and interacting with members of the opposite sex. There are all sorts of flirting: the physical, the witty banter, the flattery, the straightforward admiration, the teasing, the texting. Those who are good at any combination of these tactics often have lots of friends, lots of phone numbers, and lots of dates. It's just the way things roll here in Provo.

My problem with flirting is that I'm not terribly good at it. For the most part, physical flirting is nonexistent for me. I have a weird aversion to breaking that contact barrier. I just get super awkward. This could be a post on its own, so I'll just leave it at that. I can hold my own with the witty banter, but I'm not the quickest thinker, and I have a tendency to trip over my words. I generally don't even try flattery, and straightforward admiration is nerve wracking. Some people pull it off really well, but I am not one of those people. And if you're not good at it, you just become creepy, and no one wants that. Teasing is another one I'm fairly good at. If it involves sarcasm, chances are I'll choose that form of flirting above all others.

Despite my lack of skills in the flirting department, I still try to flirt. I try to flirt all the time. Why do I do this when I rarely succeed? Well, that's simple.

Because it's fun.

Even if nothing comes from flirting, or even if I'm not interested in the person I'm flirting with, it is still fun. Who doesn't like to be flirted with every once in a while? Who doesn't like to be paid a little bit of attention? I know that I love to be flirted with, and to make that happen, you gotta put a little effort in.

I've actually had the chance to flirt with quite a few attractive boys lately. And I've thoroughly enjoyed myself. In attempting not to worry about whether or not these guys are potential romantic prospects, I've been able to have fun, which is really where things start anyway. The more I worry about what could happen, the worse I get at flirting.

So even though flirting can be confusing at times and sometimes sucks when I'm actually legitimately interested in someone and they don't flirt back, I'm still going to do it. I'm still going to flirt with most of the boys I come in contact with. This isn't to say I'm a huge flirt (did you not just read all the reasons why I'm bad at flirting?); it's just the way single men and women communicate. And I, for one, am okay with that.

So, are you dating anyone?

If this question isn't coming from a 20-something male who is going to follow up my "no" with a "do you want to go out sometime," I'm not interested in hearing it. Especially if you're a middle-aged woman in my parents' ward who is so far removed from the dating game that she thinks finding a guy is as easy as picking an apple off a tree.

I hate to break it to you, Sister So-and-So: dating SUCKS. It's hard, and even if I were going on more dates (which for me would be one every couple of months), I would still be frustrated and fed up with everything. Just because you were married at 20 doesn't mean I'm an old maid at 24. And it doesn't mean that you have to give me a pitying look every time I answer your annoying question with, "No, not currently."

This is also true for all of my girlfriends whose first question after we haven't seen each other for a while is, "So, are there any boys?" I know girls like to dish about the guys in their lives. I like to do it, too—when I have a guy in my life. But seeing as how I don't often have a guy in my life, I don't want the first thing I say to my girlfriends make me look super lame. Besides—if I have a guy in my life, you won't have to ask me if I have a guy in my life. All you'll have to ask is, "How are you?" and chances are that he'll come up. If you have to ask, there's nothing to tell. I think this is probably true for most girls.

The only thing that makes "So, are you dating anyone?" more annoying is the follow-up of "Why not?" Right, because I have so much control over what men my age do. It's entirely up to me whether someone in my ward notices me and asks me out. It's completely my fault that I haven't found someone I'm compatible with. I alone am to blame for my loneliness. Thanks for that.

To sum up: No, I am not dating anyone, and I don't know why. I am 24. I am single. And I am dealing with it perfectly fine. I don't need to be reminded of my singleness. Believe me, I am acutely aware of it.

Being Single in Provo

So I was trying to think about what I could do to make my blog more interesting, or at the very least to give me something to write about on a fairly regular basis. I wanted something that is prevalent in my life right now, since that would give me the most material to draw from. So what can a single, 20-something Mormon girl write about? Well, that's easy.

Dating.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not going to start writing about what guys need to do to date better or be more willing to go on dates or what I want to see in a significant other. This isn't going to be some advice column. That's boring. But I feel like since I am single and Mormon and living in Provo, the mecca of Mormon singles, I might as well write about life here. I can't guarantee that I won't rant and rave about why guys suck. (Because they do. No offense, guys.) But I'm hoping to have some funny stories and reveal a bit about myself and why I suck at the dating game. (I just do. Don't worry; you'll see.)

I will definitely continue blogging about sports and all those other random things I blog about. I might start book/movie/music reviews. I want to start up my short fiction again. And who knows what else could show up? This is my blog, and as such, it should be about my life and my interests.

I have a glut of ideas for dating posts, so hopefully those will start showing up soon. And hopefully you won't judge me too harshly for writing what I think. Because I have no idea where this random idea is going to end up.

Ugh, dating.

Day 3: Your idea of the perfect date.

I hate dating. Truly, I do. Especially in the Mormon culture when everybody seems to expect me to get married two years ago. And when I haven't been on a date since September. And when I haven't actually been asked on a date since July (September was a blind date). And when . . . well, you get the idea. There's no need to make myself sound any lamer.

The point is, dating sucks, and talking about dating sucks, and writing about dating sucks. So I don't like this day of the challenge, but I'll do it anyway.

Truthfully, I don't have a clear idea of a perfect first date. I don't think there is one. I can go on the most well-planned date with fun activities, but if I don't get along with the guy, it's going to be awkward. I mostly have ideas about what a perfect date definitely would not be. Marathon dates are awkward. Movies aren't good because we can't talk. Dinner alone can feel too formal and stuffy.

I think a good first date is simply ice cream. Yes, just ice cream. It's short and simple, and it gives us the chance to talk and get to know each other. Then, if it's really awkward, we can call it good and go home. Or, if things are going well and my date has planned ahead, we can extend the date and go do something else.

Bowling and miniature golfing are great for first dates because I have to get out of myself a little bit. I suck at both, but that's kind of what makes it fun. I have to get over any insecurities I have about how bad I am and just enjoy myself. I am usually the most fun to be around when people force me out of my comfort zone—that's when I just loosen up and forget about whether I look stupid or not.

And that's really as close as I can get to a "perfect" date. I just think it is all so dependent on the person I'm on the date with. Different people shine in different situations, so there's a different perfect date for everyone, depending on who they're with. (I don't think I could more perfectly avoid the question than I did with that sentence right there.)

PS: Cora has joined in on the blog challenge fun. Chiggity chiggity check it.

One of Those Days

Today is one of those days when I kind of wish I had an anonymous blog so I could write about everything that I'm frustrated about right now in wonderful detail. But, since I don't want everyone on the interwebs to be able to read about what I'm feeling right now, I'll sum most of it up in two words:

BOYS SUCK!*

The end.

*Don't ask me why. There are no specific reasons right now. This is just one of those times of general frustration.