Pure Madness

There has been a boy in the ward that I have had a crush on since I first saw him over a year ago.

But he was dating someone. And it looked like it was going towards marriage, so I never got the chance to even talk to him very much. Then they broke up.

But I was dating Sweater Guy.

And then Sweater Guy and I broke up. And it's taken me, oh, 8 months to get over him. (which is just about as long as we dated if you do the math right)

I've gotten to know this perfect guy better over the past couple weeks, and more has come out about how perfect he really is.
He's a member of the model UN.
He volunteers with inner city kids.
He graduated in the top 5% of his class.

Basically, the list goes on and on. Hence my creeper love for him.

I always thought he was too good for me. Forget being out of my league, it's as though we lived on separate planets.
But now I'm thinking maybe not.

Which is why when he invited me to go to Zion's this weekend, I said yes. He also invited my roomie (too bad she has class! i'm just kidding girl, you know i love you)

Every girl in the ward is practically in love with Mr. Perfect. We've all told him numerous times that any girl in the ward would die to go out with him. He doesn't believe us, which just adds to his humble charm.

But he's also leaving in a month to do Teach for America....

I think I'm turning into quite the flirt. I don't know how it happened. Maybe it started when I began living with my roomies, who are the fabled type of girls that go out on multiple dates a week. But, if there's any time to start embracing this new aspect of myself, I suppose it should be now! Get ready Mr. Perfect, you and I are gonna have lots of fun this weekend (insert elbow grab here).

xoxo
-the Romantic

Like a Band-aid

In the past, my break ups (which have only been with two boys, but multiple times with both) involve long drawn out conversations with tears from both parties. We would both sob as we talked about how much we loved it each other. And after, I usually lay absolutely prostrate in my bed, devastated because I've just lost my best friend.

But this was different. Quite different.

Mr. Ute knew something was up. So he drove down last night, walked into my new apartment, and the conversation went a little something like this:

(Super long pause before I can muster the courage to say anything)

Me: You are so great..... but I just don't think this is working out for me.

Him: Ok.

Me: I hate that I asked you to drive all the way here just to be broken up with, but I felt like you deserved more than a phone call.

Him: I'm sorry if it was something I didn't do right.

Me: No, no. It's nothing like that. You've been perfect.

Him: (sheepishly) It's because I'm so far away?

Me: (sheepishly back) Yeah, that's one of the reasons.

Him: Well, I'll talk to you later.

He gave me a hug and then promptly walked out the door.

Literally, the entire conversation lasted two minutes. Literally. Which was good, because he looked so sad, which only made me sad. So I almost started crying. Which would have made things even more difficult.

It was quick. I guess break-ups are like a band-aid. It hurts less if you rip it off faster.

And then I moped. Called my roomies who moved for the summer and talked to them all about my feelings. I know we aren't right for each other. But it still makes me sad that I won't see him anymore.

But then the EQP and his roomie (who are some of my favorite people in the ward) were going around to invite everyone to watch Tangled at the dollar theater.

So I went.
There was one boy who made sure he sat by me. He seemed nice. We chatted. Then he told me I looked good in my glasses. Then I giggled awkwardly and said thanks.... I was uncomfortable.

After we got out of the movie, I had a text from Mr. Ute.

"You know I'm not mad at you right?"

"I know. I'm just worried about you being sad. You really are so amazing. I'm just going through a lot emotionally, and I don't feel like I can be a very good girl friend."

We texted a little bit more. But that's the jest of it all.

Please don't think I'm heartless. I hate breaking up with boys. But it's better to do it now before we both get really hurt.

yours truly,
the Romantic

Trouble in Paradise

So there's a huge list of pros to Mr. Ute:
He's sweet to the core.
He treats me like a queen.
He's great with kids.
He's incredibly smart (there's that pre-Med thing).
He has great taste in music.
He's fun.

But there's also a list of cons:
He doesn't get art (when I was showing him pictures I took in Rome, he commented on the amount of naked statues in my pictures. It was pictures of the statues in the Vatican!!!The Laocoon is not pornographic. Sorry....)
He baby talks me. I can't abide baby talk. Especially since I'm a 21 year old woman.
He wants to be a doctor. Which is so great! But I've always said I don't want to end up with a doctor. Too many hours. I want my hubby to be home with the family more.
He lives far away. Which wouldn't be a problem, except he never calls. He only texts. I need more substance.
He calls me his. Like I'm his property. We've been dating for a month. I am not his property.
Usually I'm fine with PDA, but he shows tooo much PDA.

There's more. But I'll spare you the gritty details.

And last night, I finally decided that the cons are out weighing the pros.

I was really upset about my Grandma being in the hospital. I needed to decide whether or not to go home. And talking to Mr. Ute just made me even more upset. He just doesn't get me. He didn't say the things I needed to hear.

So, dear readers, I think it's time to cut the cord before he gets anymore invested.

I feel sick about it. He really is this amazing guy. And by all means, I should be head over heels for him. But I'm just not.

-the Romantic

There you have it

DONE!

And now that's I'm finished with school for roughly the next 18 months (give or take a few, heavy emphasis on the give), I'll have more time to find funny stuff like this on the world wide web for you all.

xoxo
-the Romantic

Could have been

The semester is almost over.

Have you told you told that boy you've been eying all year how you really feel?

Well, have you?




My mushy finals brain is just urging you to just say it!

(Also, I'm procrastinating studying. Two scheduled finals tomorrow and a cleaning check. YIKES!)

-the Romantic

Mission Prep

So I finally told Mr. Ute about the mission thing. And guess what!? He's totally supportive.

In fact he said, "That's great! I think you'll make a great missionary. I'll do anything I can to help you prepare."

Which I interpreted to mean, "I'll even help you pack your bags! In fact, why don't we send you off even sooner than the fall? How about next week?"

Above is more evidence that I may in fact be a crazy person. I don't know what I expected him to say. But it wasn't supposed to be sooo enthusiastic. I guess I wanted the same words spoken just in a more trailing off, awkward tone.

And then my guy friends talked me down from my crazy place. And I talked to Mr. Ute about it again. And I talked myself into not freaking out anymore.

So we're all square.

And as we speak, Mr. Ute is driving down. We're going to dinner with our couple friends. (I have couple friends now. I feel like a real grown up blogger) And then we're going to figure out something to do. The options: Bonfire up the canyon. DI ('nuff said). Tie dye (because I've been dying to do that). Or the movies...

Decisions, decisions.

What are you up to on this Friday night dear readers?

Always and forever,
-the Romantic

The Shopping Theory: A Guest Post

About a month and a half ago my mom and I went shopping. After not finding anything I wanted to buy, I very dejectedly left the store. As we were leaving, my mom said, "Shopping is kind of like dating." And you know what? It really is. I mean, think about it.

What's the first thing you do when you walk in a store? You start browsing. You pick out a few clothes that are attractive to you (and a few that aren't), carrying them around with you until you're ready to try them on. What's the first thing you do when you move into a new ward, or start a new class? You browse! You find what is attractive to you, get to know them, until you're ready to try them out.

Then it's time for the dressing room. This is hard, because you are putting yourself out there. You are in your most vulnerable state. You pick the first piece of clothing and pull it on. Maybe it fits maybe it doesn't. Maybe it makes you look and feel great, chances are it doesn't. When you go on a date with a guy, you are putting yourself out there. And sometimes it works out with the guy, mostly it doesn't. You just don't feel great when you're with him, even though it is a perfectly nice shirt that looks good on that other girl in the dressing.

Once you weed through the clothes in the dressing room (and you have to go through a lot just to get two or three items you like), you put back the ones you don't like. At this point there is a lot more digging into the clothes you have chosen. First thing you do, look at the price. You don't want to have to give too much for that shirt--I mean, after all, you have to eat and pay rent still. No point investing too much for something only so so. Then you look at the care directions. Dry clean? Too high maintenance. Hand wash? It's a possibility, though not ideal. I would be willing to make changes if I really liked the shirt. Line dry? Definitely doable. The best though is just plan old washer and dryer.

If you leave with one shirt, you're going to think of that shopping trip a success.

But, unfortunately, sometimes nothing you try on works. Either they are too loose, too tight, too long, too complex, too scratchy, too short; they make you look boxy, fat, or buxom. The fabric which looked so pretty on the hanger or the mannequin ends up being weird on a real body. (Of course, I have to take a moment and say that sometimes something that you didn't like at all when it was on the hangar looks AMAZING on you. But I digress.) And, so, you dejectedly leave the store empty handed. It's hard to feel confident and happy after something that beats you down like looking terrible in everything you try on. You look around at all the other customers and they all look happy and amazing and you start wondering what is wrong with you. So, you resolve not to go shopping again. You'll just be happy with what you have at home (or with the plain t-shirt that isn't to exciting, but it's safe).

Of course, we are women--we can't stop shopping for too long. So, a couple of months later finds us back in the store, looking for that one shirt that will make us look, feel, and be awesome.

-the Maiden Aunt

Thanks for this insightful post from one of our dearly dedicated readers. You rock Maiden Aunt! And on a semi-related note, I could use a trip to University Mall right about now. How about you? Also, this website is cute.

-the Anti-Austens

The Dating Fireside or Hope for the Creeper

Do you remember when you were a beehive(or deacon) and any lessons in church on chastity/dating/courtship/marriage etc. just sent you into fits of giggles?

Well I'm here to testify that even at 21, firesides like that will still send us all into fits of giggles.

In efforts to get to know our new bishopric, we had a dating panel fireside last night. And I could not stop giggling in the back row. But I wasn't the only one! I would just like to make that clear.

But I thought you might like to know the answer to some questions that were asked last night. (strangely enough, most questions were asked from the boys' perspective.... but the answers are still pretty funny nonetheless)

How often should I go on dates?
-It's different for everyone, but at least a couple times a month.
-When you find yourself interested in someone and wanting to get to know them better.
-(this one was my favorite answer) well you take the sacrament once a week... so... you know the answer (ha!)

How do I keep myself from getting nervous in front of girls I'm interested in?
-Tell yourself not to expect too much. And then when it turns out the way you expected, tell yourself you knew it would turn out that way. And if it turns out better than you expected, well good for you!!!

Do you have any embarrassing dating stories you'd like to share from when you were still dating?
-(the high council man of our ward's wife answered this one... CLASSIC stuff is about to follow)
This is going to make me sound like a stalker, but I promise, I'm not. Roger and I had dated all through high school, and we wrote the first year through his mission. But the second year we didn't really write much. When he was about to come home, my friend and I decided that we would go to the airport, just to see what he looked like. Just outta curiosity, ya know. Well, back then, women used to go around selling wigs like they sell tupperware now. (Thank goodness the 70's are over) And my mom was one of those ladies. So my friend and I borrowed a couple of those wigs, dressed up as 40 year old women and went to the airport. Mine was a Ferrah Fawcett type wig....We even sat near his family in the terminal and they talked to us, but had no idea who we were. When Roger finally got off the plane, we were too embarrassed to be there anymore, so we left! But as I was getting into my car in the parking lot, Roger saw me! So when I saw him a few days later I pretended to be so surprised to see how much he'd grown. But he totally called me out on being at the airport in disguise! I was so embarrassed.

Well, folks, those are all the notes I wrote down. I hope you enjoyed. That last story is my absolute new favorite dating story. That couple has now been married for over 30 years. It gives hope to all us creepers right?

Good luck with finals if you're here at the Y! Try not to procrastinate too much. But if you are, check out how cute this is.

nighty night dear readers
-the Romantic

A Bad Start: A Guest Post

First off: I’m an art major.

This generally means that when I’m talking to you, I’m actually objectively observing things about you. It could be the shadows on your face, the shape of your nose, eyebrows, chin or mouth.

If I’m squinting a little, I’m probably trying to figure out exactly what color your skin appears to be in a particular light, or watching how the somewhat less than toned parts of people react to their movements.

I’m a little bit [a lot] of a creeper.

Consequently, my figure drawing class is the best time of my entire week. Nothing can really compare to having 3-hour blocks of time dedicated to the art of creeping.

Mostly, we have girl models, but every so often, the fates smile upon us, and we get males. (And if the variety weren’t exciting enough, realize that the pickings of art major males are slim…or married…or have alarming fashion senses, so boys are exciting no matter the reason)

It was one of these magical days that I first saw him. Spock.

Long, solemn face, a furrowed brow, dark hair in a suspiciously Vulcan cut…The small part of me that’s always wanted to be a Trekkie gave a mental shriek of joy.

We have two models, usually, one on each side. I always situate myself at a certain easel, so that just in case he shows up, I’ll be able to see him no matter which side he’s on.

In our most recent Spock-graced session, we were focusing just on heads and faces.

I drew his face the whole class, secretly glad that just in case he’s a senior and I never get to draw him again, I’ll always have these portraits to commemorate my sad creeper love.

During the breaks he pulls out decent sized, intelligent looking books, and I allow myself 30 second long mental Hallmark movies where he looks up at me, [probably lovingly touching up a drawing of his ridiculously tall and ridiculously skinny, concave-chested self] and decided he should probably fall in love with me and marry me (and date me, too).

Then I stop myself, and recall the two very important reasons I shouldn’t be thinking like this:

First, I don’t even know what his name is – Hence “Spock.”

Second, I don’t know much about relationships, but I’m pretty sure that good ones don’t start off with one person spending three hours staring at the other while he sits very still in a speedo.

-the Trekkie

I've been that creeper before...

Lovely weekend readers!

-the Anti-Austens

Dear Diary,

I just got off the phone with a dear friend from high school. She was regaling me with old stories from her journal about the days when we used to pal around stake dances and girl's camp together. Those were some of the best times of my life.

But that made me look through one of my old journals.
The one from my study abroad.
The one where I got written off by the guy I thought I was going to marry.

I don't know that I've written about that very much here, just because it was always too personal. But in flipping through the pages of my little moleskin today, I realized how completely over him I am. Even when I knew things were over right after I got back from Europe and he was engaged to someone else, I was still really bitter. (This is when the Anti-Austen first began if you want to scroll back to some of our earliest posts)

But, I'm not even that anymore. He genuinely was such an incredible person. And good for him for recognizing that our relationship wouldn't work out, and having the strength to move on even though we loved each other. I'm so glad I can remember those things now, instead of all the hurt and anger.

I'm going to post something he wrote in a letter to me once. It might be a little sappy for some of you, and little bit more serious than what I usually write. But I've always loved it and thought there was a little bit of truth to it. I hope you think so too.

"I hope you are able to take quiet moments to listen to the silence. That is where I have felt God speaking, comfort swelling, wisdom taking hold, peace blessing, and the Spirit healing. Listening to the wind in the trees and my breath flowing in and out has taught me many important things. May you find the time to listen to the whispers of your heart. Therein lies a powerful deity with more potential than anyone alive could know. If the people of earth could see and understand this potential, the world would dance for you! This world would dance for everyone...and you know, I believe it does. We must find the music in our daily life! Sometimes it's hidden in our suffering or buried deep within our longing. It's often as obvious as a bird or the sea or as loud as a storm! But we need to learn to sing and dance while the music is being played or we might miss everything."

Happy weekend dear readers! Take some time to enjoy the silence before finals will you?

xoxo
-the Romantic

Awkward Times in the Laundry Room: A guest Post

I hate the laundry room. People always seem to walk in right as you’re pulling your undies out of the dryer. I hate making awkward conversation with random acquaintances, and I hate it even more when I’m washing my clothes.

Today was no different. I was pulling my undies out of the dryer (see, timing is everything) and he walks in. EQP is beautiful. I like to refer to him as my husband. He has been in my ward at church since August, and we’ve yet to have a real conversation – but that hasn’t stopped me from being “madly in love with him” because I totally am. I didn’t see him at first, but then he walked past me (again, as I’m pulling out my undies) and says hello.

EQP: Hey.

Um, why are randos talking to me in the laundry room? I turn around.

EQP YESSSSSSS! BUT WHY NOW?!

Me: Oh, hey.

EQP: Anna*, right?

Me: Yeah. And I know I’m suppose to know you’re name, but I don’t…

Good job Philosopher. Try and be smooth. I’m totally lying, and he knows it. I creep on him every Sunday and sometimes during the week, of course I know his full name. First, last, middle. I’m good.

EQP: It’s ____ (what if he’s secretly in love with me and stalks my blog? I CANNOT REVEAL THIS INFORMATION. Well. I could.) Nice laundry, Anna*.

Crap. The undies.

Me: Haha, well thanks. You too I guess?

EQP: Haha I guess.

Me: Well, have a nice day.

EQP: You too, see ya.

I grab my laundry bag and sprit out of there. Did I mention I was barefoot? Maybe that makes me seem ~down to earth. No, you’re right, it just makes me a crazy girl.

We’re so meant for each other, right?

-the Philosopher

*name has been changed... of course

tres awkward indeed... thanks for this one Philosopher.
Undie moments are just as awkward as turning down a boy for a third date now that you have a boyfriend. Most awkward phone call of my entire life... Sorry Egg Guy

Have a lovely Thursday!

-the Romantic

It's official

After a weekend of conference canoodling, I decided I really really really like Mr. Ute.
And I'm assuming he really likes me too because this is how our phone conversation went yesterday:

Me: SO, I wish I was one of those really cool girls that didn't have to put a label on things.... but I'm not... And so, I was just wondering..... umm..... well....

Mr. Ute: Well, what label would you like us to have?

Me: Well....

Mr. Ute: I wouldn't say we're just friends.

Me: No, I wouldn't say that either.

Mr. Ute: And unless I'm forgetting some drunken trip to Vegas last weekend, I wouldn't say we're married.

Me: Right... (more awkward speech stumbles by me) Well, I guess I would like to call you my boyfriend.

Mr. Ute: Well that sounds good to me.


One short hour's drive from Salt Lake later, he's at my apartment door.
He enters.
The door shuts.
And then he promptly grabs my face in both his hands and kisses me squarely on the mouth.

"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous." -Ingrid Bergman

Ingrid Bergman definitely got it right.

And I've got a boyfriend. (insert huge smile here)

Now, about Egg Guy... He doesn't know... But I think he's gonna ask me out again because our date Friday night went really well. So I have to figure out some way to tell him. But not hurt his feelings. Because I would go out with him again. It's just bad timing.

And about those mission papers.... I'll tell Mr. Ute eventually! Don't worry, I'm not turning them in until May!

revolutionary, i know: a guest post

Even as an aspiring philosopher amateur logician (could I sound more pretentious? Yes. It's what I go to school for) I have to admit something - emotions trump logic. Always.

I was on the phone with my roommate/best friend/occasional partner in crime this evening, venting about what every other 21 year old girl would vent about - a boy. You've all been there, you all know what I'm talking about. We finished discussing his character flaws and exchanging the latest terrible thing he'd said or done and hung up. A few minutes later she txted me saying something along the lines of "you know, maybe we should just ignore the people that hurt us. revolutionary, I know."

But it really is.

Somewhere between the silly facebook messages and late nights driving in his car, all the "bad stuff" just falls away. I forget when it hurts because most of the time it doesn't. Because somehow feeling like somebody cares, like you're trusted and important is better than knowing that you're just like everybody else. It's something that we as humans crave, the thrill and rush of being somebody. So we keep picking up the phone, keep laughing at the jokes that aren't really funny, keep waiting around to finally be the exception. But it's a vicious cycle that leaves us sulking on the floor of our bedroom or blogging on a Wednesday night. And tomorrow I'll wake up and forget about feeling hurt or angry or tired and jump right back in. Head first.

And so will you.

-the Philosopher

I really like this. Slightly cynical. But, oh, so very true.

-the Romantic.