Thanksgiving Day Nine

Yesterday was Andrew's birthday, so tonight we are going out to celebrate. We're going to gorge ourselves at Tucanos and then go see the new Bond movie. I've been looking forward to tonight all week, and even the snowy, icky weather won't stop us from going out and enjoying an evening together. (As a side note, I'm also thankful that Andrew is willing to drive tonight. Because I hate driving in the snow.)

So today I am thankful for date night. For a reason to go out and splurge a little bit and just enjoy life. I'm thankful that Andrew and I like to go out and that we do so fairly regularly. There are a lot of things that we like to do, and we enjoy doing them together, and I'm really thankful for that. Relaxing and cuddling at home is nice, but it's also nice to go out on the town once in a while.

Newfound Annoyance

Before I was dating someone, my least favorite questions were, "Are you dating someone?" and "Why not?"

Now that I am dating someone, my least favorite questions are, "Are you engaged yet?" and "When are you getting married?"

It hasn't even been three months, folks. For the love of Pete, let us take things at our own pace.

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.

Amazing much?

Remember how in my last post I said that Andrew was making me a second birthday present? Well, he finished it. I was doubly excited to see him yesterday because I hadn't seen him on Monday (because he was working on my present) and because I would finally get to see this mystery gift.

It's a journal. That Andrew bound with his own hands. Just for me. That in and of itself is a ridiculously thoughtful gift, what with how much I love journals. But you see that cover? It's a Beatles record. "Hey Jude," to be exact. And the back cover? It's "Abbey Road." They are actual Beatles records that Andrew cut down for the cover. That may seem like blasphemy to some (and I would usually be in that camp), but this is so bloody cool that I just can't bring myself to be sad about it.

So this is the kind of thing that Andrew does for me. He is so good to me, and I just can't help but brag about him. Because he deserves it. I don't know how I got to be so lucky.

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.

Pretty straightforward, I think.

Day Forty: 10 ways to win your heart.

I'm really not a very difficult person to figure out. This list will probably emphasize that point really well.

1. Musical talents will always take the number-one spot here. Singing to me while playing the guitar/piano/other awesome musical instrument is the absolute fastest way to my heart.
2. Humor generally takes number two. If a guy makes me laugh, I am much more likely to fall for him.
3. A man who is a worthy priesthood holder who does what he is asked to do by serving and magnifying his calling is very attractive.
4. Seeing a guy play with kids melts my heart, no doubt about it.
5. A guy who forces himself through my walls is a winner. My walls aren't particularly difficult to tear down, but if a guy makes the effort, it says a whole lot about him.
6. If a guy notices that something is wrong (whether I'm just having a bad day or I really need someone's help) without being nudged, I will take notice. Someone who goes out of his way to make sure I'm okay is someone I want to spend time with.
7. My family has a very particular sense of humor, and if he can hold his own with them, it means he's a good one.
8. I love good, deep conversation. When I have a conversation with a guy that is about more than sports or movies, and that flows well without awkwardness, I'm in seventh heaven.
9. I am a little bit of a sucker for guys who are kind of nerdy. Not scary nerdy—just a little nerdy. I like seeing guys with quirks, who like things that aren't completely mainstream or that are a little dorky. It's fun.
10. I need a man who is completely trustworthy. Any man who wins my trust (or has it inherently) is a good man.

What if . . .

Day Thirty-Eight: Something you always wonder "what if . . . " about.

Oh man, there are so many of these. But there is one that generally comes to mind first. First, I must apologize that this, once again, hails back to my ex. What is the deal with this blog challenge? Why does it keep bringing up bad memories? My goodness. I'm really not hung up on this, I promise. It just happens to be what applies to a lot of these topics.

My main "what if" is this: What if I had let my first breakup with The Ex stick instead of getting back together with him? How would the rest of my senior year and my first two years of college been different? Would I have dated other guys? Would I have saved myself two and a half years of emotional turmoil?

Well, I can tell you that the last two probably would have been true. I wouldn't have had to go through everything that transpired after high school, which was a lot. My senior year of high school was hard enough, and I made everything worse on myself by not accepting the fact that my boyfriend had broken up with me. Instead, I dogged his footsteps. I made sure I was where he was as often as I could, which was easy, since we had a ton of classes together and were in the musical. I guess I eventually wore him down and we ended up dating again. And that is the worst mistake I made in the whole sordid affair. I still wish I had just let it go. 

But I didn't, and there are scadwads of things that I learned about life and myself and relationships because of that decision. And I'm truly grateful for all of those lessons I learned and how they have helped me the past few years. Getting over things was hard, but it was worth it to get where I am today. I'm truly happy with myself and the things I've accomplished. I have many things yet to do and to learn, but I have made so much progress already.

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!

The Perfect Date

Day Thirty: A date you would love to go on.

What's with all the dating questions lately? Good gracious.

So this is a hard one. I'm trying my best to think of something that is very me without being so specific that a guy would have to know me really well to plan it.

One that comes to mind is to go shooting. That may be because Der Junge brought it up once. A long time ago. He told me we should go sometime, and then never followed up on it. I'd really like to go, though, because I've never shot a gun before, and I'd like to learn how. I'd like someone to teach me how to shoot a gun so that maybe I wouldn't be so afraid of them anymore.

Another date that I think would be fun is paintballing. But not with the paintball guns. With balloons filled with paint, like in "10 Things I Hate About You." That looks like it would be a blast. It would be a good way to get to know each other and get out of my comfort zone a little bit. I always do best with activities that make me do things I don't normally do. It gets me to be a little bit more open.

And . . . that is all I can think of right now. If a guy takes me on the absolute perfect date sometime, I'll definitely post an update.

The Ex

Day Twenty-Nine: Things you want to say to an ex.

This is going to be a short post. Why? Because I've pretty much already said everything that needed to be said to my ex. I said it when we broke up, and that was that. I haven't spoken to him since, which is the way it should be. Things did not end well, and it was best for everyone involved to just cut everything off and call it done.

There was a time when I was really angry about what went down. When I say that things didn't end well, I really mean it. It was a terrible relationship. I was horribly immature about a lot of things, and he treated me like dirt. While I have come to realize that I could have been much smarter about how I handled some things, it is true that most of the issues in that relationship came from him. I did all that I could (and more than I should have) to keep things together, and he did absolutely nothing to help my efforts. He betrayed me in more ways than I can express. It was bad. So bad that it took me years to fully come to terms with what I had been through.

But I feel like I am finally past it. It's taken me a long time, but I have forgiven him for everything that he did to me. I have forgiven myself for a lot of things that I did. And I have moved on. Therefore, there is nothing left to say. It's in the past, and while it will still affect how I react to things in the future, it's done with. No point in dredging up past hurts.

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.

Individuality

Day Eighteen: What makes you different than everyone else?

Well, one rather obvious thing that makes me different than at least other girls is that I absolutely love sports. Case in point: I am currently watching BYU play Gonzaga. I had been flipping back and forth between the BYU game and the Jazz game, until it became apparent that the Jazz were going to lose. And the BYU game was much more exciting. And I'm not just a casual fan—I am an avid fan. When I talk about games, I know what I'm talking about. I can't tell you how many times I've watched games with a bunch of dudes and have ended up explaining the rules or some other aspect of the game because I know more about it than they do. My father has taught me well. [Update: BYU kicked Gonzaga's trash all over the court. Such an awesome game. I wish I could have gone to the Marriott Center—it was rockin' tonight.]

Another thing that unfortunately sets me apart from a lot of people is my common sense. I am pretty level headed, and I do my best not to let my emotions run away with me. Granted, there are times when that doesn't work out so well, but I do my best. Especially when I'm around guys. I'm not one of those girls whose brain leaves her body as soon as boys enter the room. I don't turn into a brainless flirt. Then again, that seems to work for a lot of girls, so maybe I need to incorporate a little bit of that into my life. But only a little.

The last thing that makes me different is that I am a Mormon. Granted, in Provo, that doesn't make me different. That makes me normal. But when compared with the rest of the world, being Mormon makes me pretty weird. We are a peculiar people. We have peculiar beliefs. I believe in morality. In absolute right and wrong, in Truth with a capital T. In modern-day revelation. I believe that my life isn't mine to do with what I please. It has been given to me so I can learn to align my will with my Father's will. So that by doing His will, I will bless the lives of those around me and will in turn be blessed. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has blessed my life in a myriad of ways. There is no doubt in my mind that it is true.

Dream a Little Dream For Me

Day Fifteen: Plans/dreams/goals you have.

Well, that's not general at all, is it. I'm not even sure where to start.

I guess I can start with what has been on my mind the most lately, and that is marriage. Cliché, I know, but let's be honest: I'm 24 years old. I'm turning 25 this year, and I'm still single. I really do want a family. I want to meet someone who will be able and willing to deal with my particular brand of crazy, someone who will force his way into my bubble and convince me that I can allow someone into my life without being let down. I want a man who wants to have kids and wants to raise a family in the Church. I want a man who will love me for who I am and won't ask me to change for him. I want a man who makes me want to be a better person, who is my best friend and confidante.

That is my main dream right now, though that doesn't mean I don't have plenty of other dreams. I plan to move out of student housing (finally!) in August. I'll be moving in with a few other girls of my choosing, which will be awesome. We're going to have the awesomest apartment ever in existence, for the reals. The only thing that would be awesomer would be if Cora were living with us, but she's not. It's a shame.

Another dream/goal of mine is to work at a job that is at least closer to my dream job. Magazine editing, fiction editing . . . something along those lines. Wherever that may be. My current job is fine; I love the people I work with, and I very much like that I am so comfortable there. I know my job. I'm good at my job. But it's not where I want to stay the rest of my life. Eventually I will get an opportunity to go somewhere else, to expand my knowledge and my expertise. It will be hard, as change always is, but I'm excited for the day that it will be the right thing for me to move on. Whenever that day might be.

So there you have it: a couple of my long-term goals. I would write more, but I'm kind of in the middle of an episode of 24, and I'm a little distracted. Nerve gas is about to be released in a mall! Oh noes!!

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.

Pies in the Sky

Three years ago, I was super interested in this guy, and he seemed to at least marginally return the sentiment. Things were going well. We went on a date. We hung out all the time. We flirted. We texted. We made grilled cheese sandwiches. (That's a funny story. Maybe I'll relate it at some point, but not in this post.) And then he decided he didn't want anything more than to be friends. He took me on the walk to have the discussion. It sucked hardcore.

Needless to say, I was bummed, as one would expect. Then the next day, my brother called me. My brother served his mission with Travis Bright, who was a starting offensive lineman for BYU. Travis had a friend on the football team who wanted to be set up, and I was the only single girl Travis could think of. So my brother called me and told me that I was going to be set up with a football player. It's amazing how quickly my mood changed.

I should tell you right now that I never actually went out with the football player. He apparently had some girl issues and didn't want anything to do with girls for a while (lame, I know). But the prospect of going out with a football player was so exciting, and everyone told me repeatedly how awesome I would be as a football girlfriend. I would be able to talk football if he wanted to and I would go to every game to cheer him on.

Ever since then, I have had a desire to date a football player. (Don't worry, I'm not being exclusive. I'd date baseball players, basketball players, rugby players....) There's something about football players that I find incredibly attractive. There's only one little problem.

I turned 24 this year.

That means I'm older than pretty much everyone on the team. The only people that are my age are the seniors that redshirted a year and went on a mission. And pretty much all of those guys are married. So this post is basically me lamenting the loss of a dream. (I don't care that even when I was younger than the football players I never met any of them. Just because it was never going to happen in the first place doesn't mean I can't lament it when the dream truly goes down the tubes.)

It's a shame. I really would have been the best football girlfriend ever.

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.