Death of an Era

Some three years ago I started reading an author that I quickly became obsessed with. I had been introduced by my aunt who asked, "Do you like sappy - I mean, really sappy - as in, I'm almost embarrassed to give this to you, sappy?"

YES.

That was always my answer. Because I love sap. I love cheesy. I love romance! As long as it was a happily ever after, I was happy. I signed up for this author's updates and promptly ordered the books I had read. Every time I visited my aunt, I devoured as many of the books as I could - and then bought those as well. Soon, I had read everything this author had put out. I was still craving more.

I introduced everyone I thought could stomach the sappiness to these books. And then tried to discuss them - as if we were reading some poignant plot points or fabulous symbolism.

The truth was - I knew the writing wasn't the most fabulous I've ever encountered. And I figured this author self-published. There were too many typos for there to be a real editor on board. But I didn't care. I liked the stories. And I didn't care that the heroes were always the same. Everyone always seemed so self-conscious (lack of confidence is a very real problem in relationships, after all).

As different friends read these books, I was introduced to new perspectives. I started reading other romances. I stopped reading other romances. I was still devoted to this author. And then there started a decline. I don't know if it was because I was outgrowing sappy, or if I finally recognized that I shouldn't be reading such mediocre writing. Still, I clung on. I continued reading the books. And then I read one that I was impressed with. Surely this meant that they were going to continue to get better. But it was just a small hill on a slippery slope down.

I've given up. I've ordered my final book - and I won't be reading any more of this author. I am removing myself from the update list. I am ending my relationship with this author. I just can't take it anymore. I don't know what has happened. But I suspect that the writing has gotten worse. I will read those few that I truly loved and see whether or not it is me or the author. But regardless of the findings - we're through.

It's been a good run. I truly did like those first few that set off a fever. But I can't let this continue. I think this quote probably shows exactly why...

Ridge smiled—his strength suddenly rejuvenated for the sake of his loving want.
Gently—yet boldly—he aggressed—taking Ember in his arms—shifting his weight so
that he hovered over her dominantly.
Embers smiled—weaving her fingers through Ridge’s soft, dark hair.
“I love you, my pretty mermaid,” he breathed a moment before his mouth
demanded hers respond to him.
“I love you,” Ember breathed between impassioned kisses, “my beloved treasure
of the sea.”
And the tide’s soft caress kissed the moonlit shore…

We'll Kimbo Slice Him

When I began working at KMA I knew that I was going to be working with all guys. It was exciting to think about and so far I have not regretted my decision. Mainly because working with these guys is like working with a gang of comedians. [Do comedians run in gangs? packs? flocks?]

For instance: I went upstairs and they were talking about a guy that is currently sporting a mountain man beard and came to talk to Steven. Thad, the mountain man, has a distinct voice and also a crazy family (brother named Star that has Thong Tuesdays and then shows everyone, lesbian sister that has a...ah, interesting object hanging from her pocket the family photo that is now showcased on the family business van, etc.) so the topic turned to Thong Tuesday and the guy they knew that went commando. Steven was telling us that guys need always have a four-layer barrier between them. Pants, unders and if they can, they should tuck in their shirts as well.

I was not in the best of moods, due to the fact that I have been seriously neglecting my need for sleep for at least two weeks now, and Wes told me that I needed to go to bed at 9 p.m. and not get back out. And if I didn't, my only other option was to pack up my house. He's obviously picked up on the fact that I need a little bit of pushing when it comes to my personal life.

The topic turned to dating - mostly because of posts that were previously written that caused some controversy which I told the guys. They were asking whether or not it was directed to a single person or just men in general. I told them it was in general and Steven was like, "Well, you let us know. If you need us to pay a visit to some guy..." I loved it! They were totally offering to be my champions. I imagine what this would be like if I had older brothers. "If you ever need us, we'll kimbo slice him!" Steven added. I didn't know what Kimbo Slicing was, but it sounds pretty painful, so I am glad that I have that option. [I later learned that Kimbo is a MMA guy?]

We were talking about how guys don't seem to be asking girls out on dates. They all think they were immune to this because they are all married - so they limit my bashing on Mormon guys to just BYU guys. Then they asked about a certain guy and if I'd heard from him or anything to which I said no. And then they offered to go to his house and "50's gangster" him into asking me out. Or to give them his phone number so they could harass him.

I think I'll try things my way first, and then maybe I will take them up on their offer. :)

Disgruntled, Mom?

Sigh.

It seems that my previous post was found offensive. So I guess I should explain, a little bit.

The question, though, is how do you explain things like this? The fact of the matter is that Mormon boys are pansies. Like in everything, there are exceptions to the rules but for all intensive purposes, it's pretty much the norm around here. Don't get me wrong. Mormon guys have a lot going for them. They're taught to be hard workers, ambitious, they hold the Priesthood, they serve others, they love the Lord, they love their family. They are still men... (Again, exceptions to the rules are found.)

BUT - if you look through the last couple of General Conferences or Pristhood Sessions, CES firesides, Stake Conferences, etc. you will find a rising trend in the topic of: dating. Not marriage like found in the past, but actual DATING. Dating because Mormon guys don't date (this is the last time, I am going to point out that I am talking in generals here). They are either too chicken or too cheap or too lazy to ask girls out. They hang out. They flirt, sometimes. But they don't date.

The reason I posted the letter earlier is because various friends and I have seen something of a pattern as of late. We watch movies, or hear the stories of our non-member friends or just watch people and see that non-member guys (aka Gentile Boys) are a lot more smooth. They are more forward. They are willing to put themselves out there and take a chance. And yes, normally it is because they want to "score" with a girl. But still, they get great practice in the arts of romancing a woman. They practice with foreplay - not sexual foreplay! - but the flirting and the teasing and the kissing...and they get really good at it.

Mormon boys don't do any of this. Because they already know that they aren't going to "score" because either they don't want to (for their own moral grounds) or they know they can't (for our moral grounds). We all want temple marriages - I WANT a temple marriage...so I'm not saying that we should go out and do things to jeopardize that. But then they  fall into the "friend zone" and try to go from there, and what's left is a combination of really awkward couples that lack the passion and romance. And I think it is because of a general lack of practice. And laziness. And not wanting to cross any boundaries - which is respectable, but still annoying sometimes. Because you can have fun without crossing boundaries.

Women (ok, SOME women) like to be pushed against the wall and kissed. Like, really like it. What? I'm just saying...Some girls like to be teased and flirted with and taken care of and as I said, "wined and dined" and we know that it's because guys want something. And we want things too. That's just how it is. If you want a guy who knows how to approach a complete stranger and talk about religion or move you to a new house or you want fashion advice on jean shorts with socks and sandals, then you look to a Mormon Boy. But if you are looking for romance and passion advice, go to the Gentile Boy...and then just tone it down a bit to fit within your moral standards.

That's all I'm saying.

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

I'm engaged! (scenario #1)

His name is Warren.

We met at a 35+ New Year's Eve dance and he simply took my breath away. Sure, he was a little slow. And he definitely did not have much to say. But I think I liked the possessive look he got in his eye when I danced with Mike and Robert later. He didn't have to tell me that he loved me, he said it with his dead fish-like hands and inability to hold me close while we danced. This, of course, was due to his large belly that stuck so far out, I thought he would be a good double for Santa. I'm not really sure what we will do for a wedding - when, where and more importantly why.

Never mind. I guess it is a good thing that the ring is on loan.

I spent Christmas in Ohio. You've already read about the Christmas miracle-bonus that allowed me to play for a ticket. I will also say that I was very blessed to be leaving on 24 Dec without so much as a delay for weather for any of my flights whether they were out/in to Salt Lake, Columbus and Detroit or Dayton. I really, really enjoyed being home - I always do, but this year was particularly great.

First, I completely underestimated exactly how CUTE my niece is. Kelsie is totally her own person and is so funny - she just cracks me up. I love her to pieces and it was so hard to leave her. Even though, she doesn't like me very much. She cuddled with me once. She cried most other times I didn't have food in my hands that I was trying to bribe her with. She eats nonstop, and she eats everything. It didn't matter that we tried avocado, olives and random other things. She ate it all. And she wanted more, always more. I loved watching her dance with her toys, and walking like a drunk and spitting all over Mom in church. And reaching out for Amy while she sat on the stand trying to give a talk. And her laugh. And even her cry. She's just SO CUTE!

I got two hugs and two "I love yous" from Mark. Miracle.

I spent time with some peeps from high school. One is in Washington DC at the White House. The other works on the show Brothers and Sisters (with Sally Field) in LA. Just a reminder: I'm an office manager at a small architecture firm one class shy of my degree. *shrugs shoulders*

Brad cracked me up when the following conversation took place:

"I just can't understand why he hasn't kissed her yet. Guys know whether or not they want to kiss a girl in like, five seconds. Back me up, Brad," I said trying to figure out the curling ribbon on my present.

"Brad doesn't know," My mom said in denial. "You're too young to know."

"No I'm not and Yeah I do."

I look to my mom triumphantly and say, "Aren' I right, Brad?"

"Pretty much."

"Just remember Brad, don't give your kisses out like pretzels," I say, quoting a line from somewhere I'd heard sometime. (It may be written somewhere in the margins or my scriptures.)

"Can't help it - I've got a whole pretzel stand!"

I die laughing. My mom looks at him shocked and then cracks a smile before he heads to bed. "Alright, Pretzel Man," my mom says, "How about a kiss for your mother."

And he leaned over and kisser her, then me, on the cheek.

I freakin' love that kid.

A shout out to my buds Esther and Mindy. I can't believe we are all so one-track minded. It's sad really. But I'm so glad that I'm not the only one.

And then the trip was over. It was way, way too short. But my office was glad to get me back and even though I meant to work only a half day today, I ended up staying until 5:00 p.m. And busy too.

I think in general, 2010 is shaping up to be an interesting year for me already. I had the best ribeye of my life at Christopher's, thank you Roberta! It was seriously expensive and well-worth getting all gussied up for. Then Roberta and I hit the 35+ New Year's Eve Dance. You thought I was kidding about that? I wasn't. I was the youngest, hottest thing there. Turns out, old people are total floozies. And only seem to have one thing on their minds! Nevertheless, I was asked to dance by quite a few bachelors. And while none struck my fancy, the Knight with the beat up truck asked if he could take me out sometime. Thank goodness for Roberta, defending my young, innocence. He had to be twice my age AT LEAST. I must admit that I looked around the room at 12:00 a.m. on January 1, 2010 and prayed - PRAYED - that I was not looking into the crystal ball of my future in 10 years. I think I would rather die. Regardless, it was "fun".

And then I went and hung out with a friend and I am just now typing all of this up. It is late. I will be moving tomorrow... if I ever get out of bed. And there is much yet to be done!

Happy 2010! May the whole year be as interesting and low-key as this evening has been for me. And thanks again, Roberta for dinner and the dance.