Dear Mormon Boy,

Dear Mormon Boy,

We have been friends for a really long time. I've met you in all shapes, sizes, races. You have different tastes in books, movies and music. Sometimes you are funny other times serious. You fluctuate in your commitment to the gospel but you are typically a returned missionary and have gone and done things that I would never want to do. I appreciate that you are trying to do as you have been counseled by striving to revere and cherish women for the good that we represent as daughters of our Heavenly Father. Really, it's very sweet.

Can you stop?

The thing is, with all this reverence, you've allowed yourself to get - well - pansyish. You're afraid to ask me out! Or, you're trying to be thrifty and, um, cheap. Whatever the reason, you need to look to your brother, Gentile Boy. He knows what's going on. He understands that in order to get in a woman's pants, he has to wine and dine and flatter and schmooze. Now, I don't want you anywhere near my pants and I definitely won't take the wine - but it's the thought that counts. It's the charmingness that is attractive - the attitude of, "I know what I want and I'll go and get it." He's got skills. And you aren't even trying! You've let yourself lose sight of the end goal... it's still the same. The only difference is the wedding certificate (Ok, not the ONLY difference... but are you getting my point?)

Quit thinking that I am like the small percentage of BYU Co-Eds who are predators. These are the exception. And, quite frankly, don't you find them just a titch annoying (I certainly do...) Quit waiting for ME to make all the moves. I don't want to do all the work. You've seen me flirting and now I want to see you work for it. Don't worry, it will be well worth your while.

Love,
Mormon Girl