Wickham

It all started when I fell for my best friend…..dumb I know.

We had mutual friends and they thought we would be perfect for each other…and we were. We loved the same music, we both loved to read, we both were very opinionated and for a while it worked.

We spent months getting to know every facet of each others personalities. We would get so wrapped up in conversations that we literally talked the night away. Now the days, nights, conversations blur into a haze of delightful memories.

His friends started bringing up the M word and how he wanted us to take the leap. This scared me (That's an understatement, I was utterly terrified, commitment phob? o ya).

Finally, there was the trip home. Sadly enough my family did not like him and this fact sent me reeling. I have to admit that even I knew deep down that something wasn’t right about our relationship. He wasn’t the one.

(Definition of The One: the elusive tall dark and handsome white knight sent to complete us, armed with a first edition of our favorite book and a box of chocolates)

Right after, I went away for the summer. We grew distant, not broken, just distant. Then my best girl friend called me late one night because to tell me what he refused to...he had a girl, or I should say another girl.

I made him tell me, made him say it out loud. The worst part is he completely blamed me for everything.

He didn’t want another girlfriend, He only wanted me….

I was distant.

It was all my fault.

It took me weeks to stop blaming myself and realize he was in the wrong.

He told me he didn’t like her as much as me, that he was going to break up with her soon….and he did. Then he started trying to fix us. A part of me wanted to scatter the broken pieces of us all over so he could never find them.

It was at this point that I began to see him, really see him. See the arrogance I missed, see how much he put me down, and see how inconsiderate he was. He was never going to be the perfect guy I wanted. The sad part was it was too late, I already made him my best friend.

We started talking again. Hours of conversation where we pushed blame on each other. I was a wreck. Luckily, I have amazing parents and they made me realize that this boy, this best friend of mine, cared more about himself than he ever did about me.

He kept in contact, haunting me with his very presence. I began to see him all over campus. He was literally everywhere. I couldn’t escape. If it wasn’t so depressing it would have been hilarious. (if you read the ex-boyfriends should die post, this whole experience explains that)

He was my best friend, I knew him better than anyone in the world and he used these things to manipulate me into feeling sorry for him….for him.

I would love to say that it’s over now, that we stopped talking…but I can't.

He asked me to go to lunch with him. I said yes. Pathetic right. I hate it, but there is a piece of me that still blames me, that wants to believe that he will make it up to me. That he could still be the one. But it’s all a lie. He is my Wickham.

Dear Husband,

Where are you?

-Sincerely, your wife, The Blue Stocking.

She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.

On some unremembered day of last week, Mr. Military came to my apartment for a chat. We visited for an hour or so about non-consequential matters. I had a book next to me on the couch, as I had been reading prior to his visit. Naturally. He asked me what it was, I told him the title. He asked if it was good. I replied that it was, very much so. He proceeded to ask me about the plot, and I plainly refused, hoping that my recommendation of the book was enough for him to read it himself. "Oh, I'm not going to read it," he said, "I hate reading." Silence ensued. I felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me with one swift blow. My left eye began to twitch. I attempted to change the subject so as to continue to have a decent conversation, but needless to say, Mr. Military's stay did not last long after that. {For some reason, people tend to get uncomfortable when my eye twitches.}

Scratch Mr. Military off my list of eligible bachelors.

Dear Husband-To-Be,

You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. {Thank you John Lennon for the consistent timely use of your lyrics}. When I was a Beehive, I made a list of the qualities I hoped that you would have. My Beehive version of you was a Returned Missionary, you had a good laugh, you had blue and/or green eyes, and you played football in high school. Unfortunately, I left out a very key quality from that list. My Beehive version of you was intelligent certainly, but I never added the fact that you love to read. Does the fact that it was not included on the "official" list make it null and void?

But darling Husband-To-Be, please, please, please, love to read. I imagine us when we're newly married spending Saturday mornings {when we're too lazy to clean the house and too poor to own a television} curled up on the couch reading. You'll be reading C.S. Lewis and I'll be reading Louisa May Alcott. We'll coincide in that special place that exists only when your mind, heart, and spirit together discover truth and beauty through words on a page. Separated only by leather bindings, but still very much together and aware of each other existing in that precious space. I imagine as we get older, our home will be packed with bookshelves overflowing with our cherished books. Victor Hugo stuffed between volumes of Shel Silverstein's poetry and Charlotte Bronte cozied up to Dr. Seuss. Every Christmas, birthday, and anniversary, our gifts to each other and to our children will more than likely be books. We will have to have an annual book sorting just to keep our collection from overtaking our home. On Sunday evenings you'll read our little girls fairy tales just as my father did with me. And as a nightly ritual before the children go to bed I'll read to them Shakespeare, Harry Potter, or Pride and Prejudice. And when the day comes that both of us have ceased to be living, breathing, mortal beings in this world, the hardest thing our children will face will be how to divide between themselves the books that have become concrete memories of us and our family as a whole. But from where we are, watching them get along just fine without us {but not too fine}, we'll smile at each other and thank God that we were inspired enough to provide them each with their own copies of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe.

Husband-To-Be, I don't care if your eyes are blue, green, brown, or hazel. I don't care if you are 5'9" or 6'5". It does not matter to me if you are tan or if your body is toned. If you prefer the Dallas Cowboys over the New England Patriots, I won't mind. If you didn't play football at all in high school, it won't matter to me. But please, if anything, please love to read.

Con Amor,

The Coquette

Two Things.

We're gonna make this one quick since I'm supposed to be working right now.

Please read this new blog I just discovered. This post: "Date A Girl Who Reads" is my new favorite piece of writing on the planet.

Also.
I've recently come to the conclusion that mustaches are the neck beard of the 21st century.

Please don't tell me they'll be a defining quality of our generation. (photo link)

xoxo
-the Romantic
ps. I should mention I've decided not to meet and "catch up" with Sweater Guy. He is, however, coming to my farewell on Sunday. I don't think awkwardness will be an issue. I feel over him. (Writing it out did help!) But i just keep asking myself, "Why did I do that again?"

A Charming Life

Last week I did something I've never done before.

I left my number for a waiter.

My roommate and I went to Chili's on Saturday and happened to have a particularly cute waiter who seemed particularly friendly towards me. I kept joking about leaving him my number...and then...
My roommate convinced me. (I say convinced, I mean pressured.)
So I actually did.

Do you realize how very little room there is to write on a dollar bill?
Yes, I wrote it on his tip. And if he ever spends that bill my number will be floating around for all of the greater Provo/Orem area to see. In hindsight, I probably should have wrote it on a napkin.
But I've always wanted to write my number on a dollar. Napkins just aren't as sneaky.

Anyways, I can cross that off my bucket list. We'll see if Andrew actually calls me up or not.
I think I want him to...but I've never done this before. What do I say to him if he actually does call?!


In other Charming news, I've been chatting recently with a boy I was majorly in love with in high school. He was in my home ward and I had the hugest crush on him. (If you met him, you would, too. I promise. He was one of those boys. Every girl had a crush on him)
Anyways, out of the blue he messages me this week and we start having a lovely conversation. We lamented the fact that we were never better friends in high school since he is two years older (and in high school, age differences like that actually seemed to matter). I admitted to having a huge crush on him growing up. And then he threw me this curveball...

Ya know what's funny? As much as people told me that girls had crushes or whatever on me growing up, I don't know if I ever really believed it.
Okay, tell me if I'm wrong about this, because I may be making up this fantasy completely in my head...but I think it also may be real. Were you home when I gave my homecoming talk? I think you were because you just mentioned that you went home that first summer. Anyways, you know how they always talk about missionaries leaving and then coming home and just being blown away by how much the girls in the ward have changed? Well I have this memory (hopefully it's not something I fabricated, because it's in there for some reason), of walking into the church building and we said hi to each other. I remember just being absolutely blown away by you. It was that moment in time for me as an RM where I was like..."yep, I was dumb to be so short sighted in who my friends were growing up." lol!
I always enjoyed seeing you on campus and stuff too, but would you believe me if I said I still get pretty dang nervous when I talk to girls that I'd like to get to know better? Well I do! Moral of the story, I've thought for quite awhile that you are really awesome so when I do see you next, if I'm slightly nervous at first...give me a break!

He also said he wants to "remedy the fact that we didn't really do much together growing up."

Stop for a second and let me catch my breath.
I feel like a high schooler all over again. I swear I got butterflies reading his message!

All I can say is that if Ace (I'll just default to the nickname everyone used for him) wasn't back home right now, I would probably be falling at his feet.

If I was a Greek, I would probably be praying to Aphrodite and Eros (if I was a Roman, it would be Venus and Cupid) saying, "Please, please, PLEASE have mercy on my poor flirtatious soul and let something work out with this boy! All I ask is one date! Or two...or maybe even more...

With a sigh,
The Charmer

Giving Scoot the Boot

Last night I went on the date with Scooter. All in all it went pretty well. He picked me up on his scooter, of course, and we went and got frozen yogurt (I may or may not be addicted to this frozen delight).

Afterwards we rode to the park and he conveniently pulled out a blanket and told me we were going to go "star gazing".

Smooth, right?

We spent about 3 hours talking and even I have to admit he's very charming. He said all of the right things, he really listened, and it was an equal share on the whole get to know you convo.

He even got me home at a semi-decent hour. (very unlike him)

Even though the date was ok, great if you count the fact he didn't try anything like he usually does (little fact, if you fold your arms it makes hand holding nae impossible).

But I still don't feel like we have a lot in common.

The next day he invited me to his birthday party and big shocker it was being thrown by a bunch of girls. I agreed and then he started talking about our future plans...ya. I guess these plans include dates where we don't get eaten alive by bugs, and he even started talking about setting our friends up with each other and double dating.

Maybe I was mistaken, but did I just walk into a relationship?

I immediately called in the roommates for advice and all of them were shocked that I had broken the one date wonder's dating habits. Before this point they all assured me that he was only after me because I was playing hard to get and the second I went out with him he would dump me like a Christmas tree on Dec 26th.

At this point I was really getting nervous. Scooter and I had really hit it off and I in no way wanted to offend him with the friend talk, but really friendship was the only way I could see our relationship going.

Then my roommate, Sara, who had also been invited out by the Scoot a couple weeks back came to my rescue by telling me my little casanova had been hooking up with another girl from the ward all last week...the same week he had been sending me cute texts about wanting to go out.

O Sweet Relief!

I got to the bottom of this many layered guy and, as disappointing as it is, he is exactly who I thought he was -- a scumbag.

Even though this new info leads me to doubt guys being genuine, the bonus is I no longer feel the need to protect little Scoot's feelings.

I did go to the birthday party mind you, I just invited Sara, I guess I wanted to see how well he could juggle us in the same room :)

Scooter played it cool and talked to me the whole time, he even told a friend about our future plans to double with him. Then it got quite uncomfortable when his friends who knew Sara came up and started making comments on how they approved of her, O poor Scoot. I figured this was the best time to leave and when he asked me what I was doing later I quickly responded "I'm sleeping."

What can I say he exhausts me.

Now Scooter is on his way home for a couple of weeks and I sincerely hope he decides to move on to someone else.

-The Blue Stocking

What's in a name?-A Guest Post

A few days ago, we received an email here at the Anti-Austen. From several writers to another, we loved this email! I've read the beautiful prose myself time and again these past few days, mulling over whether or not I actually agree with what's being said. But, before I give you my opinion, I'll let you decide for yourself. So here it is dear readers, the infamous email from a reader that's put us in quite the tizzy for the past few days.
-the Romantic

It's a long, slow, messy, painful journey to relationship success, and as one who has not quite finished that journey, I can safely say that one of my greatest comforts along that road has been Jane Austen. But to call her a comfort alone would be a disservice to what she has really accomplished in my life. She has instructed, educated, and enlightened me. Most of all, she has given me a Daisy. A girl I can look for across the bay and feel the spark of hope within me ignite with that green light. I'm not Gatsby, by any means, but thanks to Jane Austen, I've caught his vision.

The appeal of a Jane Austen novel is the possibility that you might actually meet a Jane Austen-caliber hero, a Mr. Knightley, a Colonel Brandon, a Mr. Darcy. As a boy who has read the entire Jane Austen canon (and as evidenced by his current use of a pseudonym is not nearly comfortable enough with his own masculinity to confess this on the internet), I am confident that the draw of her novels is the charm of her protagonists. The hook that pulls me back into Pride and Prejudice again and again is Lizzy Bennett. I pick up Persuasion because I find Anne's personality delightful. You pick it up because deep down, all you really want is a guy who will spend eight of his prime "I could be dating around" years pining for you. A guy who will use those eight years to become the kind of successful, charismatic, accomplished man that your family would approve. A Captain Wentworth. The truth is, we read Jane Austen novels for the same reason we watch the food channel: because maybe, one day, we'll taste the product and it will be every bit as good as advertised. Every single girl who has ever loved "Emma" has really just loved the possibility that she could LIVE "Emma."

So as you consider what makes a girl charming, what kind of practical skills you can apply in wooing your own personal Darcy, I'd ask that you return to the roots of who you are and what you preach. Sure you call yourselves the Anti-Austens, but you're about as opposed to Jane Austen and her literature as the anti-Nephi-Lehis were to Nephi and Lehi and their prophetic counsel. You love Jane Austen, and your blog bears her moniker precisely because her novels are the pinnacle examples of successful courting.

Now this is entirely in your favor. As well-read Austenites, you have before you the greatest how-to manuals that exist on finding Wentworths, Knightleys and Brandons: Persuasion, Emma, and Sense and Sensibility. To get those guys, you need to be their girls. A Colonel Brandon will only ever be charmed by a Marianne. A George Knightley's only chance at true "marital bliss" is an Emma. And the most defining characteristic of those characters, the very trait that endears them to you and attracts me to them is their sincerity of person. It's the fact that for an entire book, Emma never deviates from who Emma is. She's meddling, she's dramatic, she's overconfident, and she's a little naive. But she is Emma, and she won't ever try being anyone else. Now that's attractive. As corny as all those after-school "Arthur" re-runs are, and as trite as all those posters that line high school walls across America are, their message is based on truth: be yourself. Be confident that who you are is exactly who you need to be to get the kind of guy you want. You all want genuine guys, guys who won't feed you lines to get desired reactions like a trainer manipulates his dogs. You want sincerity, not a guy who turns it on until he has you, and turns it off forever after. A guy who says sweet things because he means them. A guy who earns you, rather than waiting for the other way around. Those are the guys Jane Austen writes. The Victorian heroes of romantic literature. You know, the guys whose existence you occasionally find yourself doubting. But they're out there, and you believe that just as firmly as you believe in real, deep, permanent love. That's why you read those books in the first place. Not to get your fix of love, but to get your taste. You never finish a Jane Austen book satisfied, and that's the point. You're supposed to finish hungry for exactly the kind of guy all of your relatable heroines fall in love with. Exactly the kind of guy you want.

So be confident, be yourself, and most of all, be patient. Because you'll find that guy one day, and yeah, it may take as long as eight more years. But even if it does, then congratulations: you scored yourself a Wentworth.

How I Met Mr. Darcy

Dear Readers,

You will recall that Mr. Darcy sent us this lovely email last week. You will also recall that yesterday was Tuesday, the day that one of us {The Anti-Austens} was to go on a date with this so-called Mr. Darcy. And so I {The Coquette} will relate to you how it came about that I was the Anti-Austen chosen to go and what this curious experience was actually like. I will do my best to be as honest as possible about this whole ordeal, and I know {as far as I can tell} that Mr. Darcy won't mind that one whit.

As I aforementioned, the email from Mr. Darcy came last week. All of us, as the Anti-Austens, were thrown into a sudden bubbling hum of excitement and wonder. "What do we do? What should we say? Do we go? Should we all go? This guy is pretty clever. What if he's a creeper?!?! This is legit! What if he's a jerk just trying to find out who we are?! If anything, it will be good blogging material right? Who does he think he is? Someone has to go even if all they do is creep on him. He's witty. He's daring. He's bold. Someone HAS TO go on a date with him!" See what I mean?

Mr. Darcy had included in his email, his phone number. I took it upon myself to contact him. I, by all means, was not going to be the one to go out with him. I thought he was arrogant and brash. I thought that him asking all of us out, but asking for us to choose which one of us went was conceited. I thought that he thought the world of himself. And to use Mr. Darcy as his pseudonym? Absurd! Pompous. So I texted him because I planned on saving my dear friends from this man if he was just too horrible for one of them to go out with. I admit that I am overprotective and always quick to judge. A flaw.

So I texted. And I even attempted to be a little distant and taciturn. I kept my guard up. There was no way he was going to trick me into thinking he was either nice or charming. I kept repeating this mantra to myself, "Don't be fooled. He's arrogant. He's conceited. Don't. Be. Fooled."

But good heavens I just couldn't help myself. He was just altogether too easy to converse with. His texts were not ever just "Yup" or "Sweet". He gave me actual replies. And the conversation was good. He was deep. And before I knew it, I was giving the girls the thumbs up to go on the date.

Now the only thing that stood in our way was choosing who would go. The Bluestocking was going to be out of town. So was The Charmer. That left The Romantic and myself. The Romantic {aka The Boss} decided that I should be the one to go since I had already been talking to him. Curse my overprotective fingers. I was dead set on not having to do this. Remember, I'm The Coquette. I haven't been on a date in...a long time. And a blind date? Never. With a boy who I was convinced was the direct descendant of Narcissus himself? No, thank you.

Naturally, I agreed. My stomach twisted and turned its merry way through Tuesday afternoon. I had to listen to "Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major" several times just to keep myself from hyperventilating. Mr. Darcy warned me not to wear a hockey mask or brown paper bag to conceal my identity. I wished I had thought of that earlier.

I just hoped beyond all hope that Mr. Darcy would turn out to be a five foot tall, emo kid in skinny jeans so that there was not even the remotest of all possibilities that our personalities would work together. Apparently, The Fates never smile upon me because when I arrived at The Chocolate, a five foot tall, emo kid was not what I found. Not even close. Mr. Darcy had the audacity to be good looking. He had the nerve to be kind. And funny. And good at reading non-verbal signals {Brilliant!}. And easy to talk to. And smart.

And he wasn't even arrogant.

As first dates go {Confess it, all first dates are a little bit awkward. No matter what.}, it wasn't half bad. It wasn't even a quarter bad. Now that I look back with a "first-date-perspective" I can't think of a single thing that went wrong {minus my innate awkward personality}. Except I almost fell off the step as I was leaving. The Fates were watching out for me there.

I had been prideful. I had been prejudiced. And those two traits did not do him justice.

Con Amor,

The Coquette

He was very charismatic....

Do you remember Scooter?

Well, last Saturday I was out and about with some friends when I started getting texts from him. Shocking because we haven't spoken since his blow up about me being busy all the time.

Ya I realize I didn't mention this, but last week he got upset with my "busy schedule". I'm willing to admit that if it was someone but Scooter I would try and make time. But I'm not about to cancel plans with friends and other guys to hang out with someone who's only calling me because some other girl didn't pick up.

He asked what I was up to and said he wanted to hang out so I decided to just go with it, after all what's the worst that could happen....

The date that wasn't a date turned out to be really fun. I know my type is awkward, but I have to say it was very refreshing to be with a guy who wasn't afraid to be touchy and just say that he likes me instead of taking months like "my type of guys".

I hate to admit it, but I think may actually like spending time with him...gulp

Does this erase the fact that he already has other girls who think they are dating him or the fact that he still texts my roommate to hang out, no.

Those facts just make me very realistic about the whole situation. I'm not stupid, I know very well that he has a lot of girls he calls on, but then again I have other guys too. I'm not imagining us riding into the sunset on that shiny red scooter, but I figure what's the matter with going on one little itty bitty date with him say Friday....ya I said yes.

What can I say, he has layers. No judgment ladies.

How to Be Charming, Part 2

I'm posting today since I'm going to be gone this whole next week. So you won't hear any updates on my love life for a few days...but since I'm going to be hanging out with teenage girls all week, I don't think that there will be anything to report.

Anyways, I promised that I'd give you ladies a few of my own tips on what I think will help you win over men. (And please, gentlemen, feel free to give your own advice or to comment on what I say. I'd be very interested to hear what you have to say!)

First off, my Roommate mentioned that I dress well.
You might have been surprised that this was one of her tips.
The first time that a guy told me that one of the reasons he had asked me out was because he thought I dressed well, it surprised me too.
But, believe it or not, guys do notice. Sometimes I ask boys why they decided to ask me out. And time and time again, I've been told that one of the reasons is because I dress well or because I always look put together.
I want you to keep in mind that I am by no means model material. I don't have long, luscious hair and the perfect body. I'm not ethnic-looking, I'm not very tan, and I don't think there's anything particularly eye-catching about me. In fact, if you were to see me pass by on the street, you would probably never think that I could be The Charmer. Sure, I think I'm cute (and I'd call myself pretty on a good day). But I'm definitely not drop-dead gorgeous or anything like that.
So girls...you can't change what genes your parents gave you, but that doesn't really matter because you can still make the effort to look put together!
And the guys will notice. ;)

Secondly, my roommate mentioned that I was confident and comfortable around boys.
I definitely wasn't always confident around boys.
But the more time I've spent around boys, the more comfortable I've become around them.
So, start spending time with boys!
It doesn't matter if you're particularly interested in them. Just invite some boys from your ward over and feed them brownies. Seriously, though...get yourself a few good guy friends and hang out with them. You'll start to figure out how to act around them, and that's the first step to feeling confident.

Thirdly, I'm adaptable.
I love trying to understand other people. Because of this, I've watched people my whole life.
And so I've figured out exactly how to act around certain types of people--I can often tell just from meeting someone if they're going to be a person who likes to listen, likes to talk, likes to act crazy, likes to be quiet, etc. This way, I can kind of gauge when I need to tone down my craziness or when I need to step it up a notch. I have a little better idea of whether or not I should talk a lot or let them do the talking. Again, this comes from spending time with lots of different people. Start reaching out of your comfort zone and getting to know people you wouldn't usually spend time with--you'll learn a lot about them but you'll also learn a lot about relating to people in general.

Fourthly, I'm versatile.
And by "versatile," I just mean that I do a lot of different things. Thus, I have a lot of different things to talk about. If a boy likes sports, I can talk sports (kind of...haha), if he likes music I can talk music, if he likes dancing I can talk dancing. I know movies, I know books, I know art. I even know philosophy. I don't really know cars...but eh, whatever.
If you're a very specialized person (e.g. you only do music), try looking into something new. Broaden your horizons a little bit, and it can really pay off.

Finally, I'm flirty.
I'm not one of those girls who are over-the-top flirty. My flirting is fairly subtle as far as flirting goes. I usually don't flirt with boys when we're in big groups; I usually flirt when we're one-on-one.
It's been mentioned on this blog again and again, but elbow grabbing (or any little touches for that matter) are your #1 best friend when it comes to flirting. (I've never grabbed a boy's elbow, just for the record. But I do touch knees.)
Eye contact is your other #1 best friend. People have done studies on eye contact, and they've found that merely staring into each other's eyes can create feelings of attraction, even in strangers. So look into his eyes. Do it.
I joke around with guys a lot. I exchange many texts filled to the brim with flirty banter.
I also laugh a lot...especially around boys. Act like you're having a good time, and they're much more likely to feel the same way.

Well, that was a long post full of (hopefully useful) information. Like I said before, I wish I had a formula to give you that would help you win over any man you wanted. But I don't.
However, I will keep musing on the subject and will continue to update you with any advice I think of....

Cheerio,
The Charmer

A Whirlwind of Fancy Flattery

Yesterday evening, The Bluestocking and I went to the Creamery on campus for some ice cream to celebrate, you know, Thursday. There were not many people there, as most students had gone home for the day, but the boy who was manning the Creamery counter did, to say the least, make our day. The only other employee working was serving us multiple samples of Coconut Joy and Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough while the boy was in the back blabbering about how much he loved the song by Cake that was currently playing {Short Skirt Long Jacket} and about how much he hates that all BYU girls only listen to Taylor Swift. Truly a tragedy. Then he began to flatter the Bluestocking and I. "Oh, I love your shirt!" "Ooh, that's a great headband!" We chatted for a bit. "Where are you from? What are your majors?" The usual. As we were leaving, he called out to us, "Goodbye my ice cream shop sweethearts! I love you!" We would have felt exceptionally special if he hadn't said the same thing to the girl in line before us and hadn't proposed marriage to another girl passing by. However, we still felt particularly special even though we were only two among many he had complimented/proposed to that day. What a sweetie pie. You know, if you like that sort of thing, being flattered by a cute boy who is simultaneously giving you ice cream. You can bet I'll be back for regular doses of ice cream topped with a healthy amount of flattery.

And now for a special treat. {No, not flattery slathered ice cream.}

We received an email from a self-proclaimed Mr. Darcy this morning {or last night, I don't remember which}. It is intriguing. He is intriguing. Thus is what was written to us:

Dearest Anti Austens,

It is my deepest and most sincere condolences regarding your failed relationships. To your self-proclamation regarding Austen's work being fiction I say, of course life is not a Jane Austen novel. There is no possible way that God would allow life to be that boring or painful to read. However, to your blog I say wonderful! a masterpiece! pure brilliance! You women without knowing have managed to capture the attitudes of women that I have never before known. Your blogs are beautiful and reflect the embittered opinions of women who have managed to endure the trials and tribulations of going on dates with men you don’t like and places you don’t want to go. I am in love with all or a great portion of you girls.

After reading your stories I have decided that I would love to go on a date with at least one of the Anti-Austen's. What can I say I am a romantic and the setting for this love story is unparalleled by anything Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, or Spike Lee have ever concocted. Think about it, a blogger disillusioned by years of crappy dates encounters another blogger made cynical and sarcastic by the hundreds of dollars lost on dates that ended in a handshake at the door or a dodge of a kiss, the two fall madly in love. The two read each other’s blogs. A fight over the couples imperfections then occur and the two go back to the bitter bloggers that they once were. However, after further investigation and the encouragement of either her gay best friend or her matronly and large black best friend (both of which tend to provide the comic relief in these sorts of films), the Anti-Austen realizes that she has made a mistake and proclaims her love for me on the blog which has just been picked up by the New York Times. Thus the anti-Austen ruins her chances of becoming a world famous blogger, but restoring the love that she once had with me.

I would invite you to think it over. Decide amongst yourselves. I understand that you are worried to reveal your true identity to the world, but I promise that my lips are sealed. You don’t even need to tell me your name I just would love a date. Next Tuesday evening I will be at The Chocolate in Orem (considering that you are well educated women with a sense of style and taste in elegant things, I assume you will know where that is). I will have my Pride and Prejudice handy and will be sitting on the sofa in the front room. If you wish to join I would be much obliged. However, if you do not I completely understand and suppose I will enjoy a nice evening with Ms. Bennet.

With all the sincerity that I can muster,

Mr. Darcy

Dear Mr. Self-Proclaimed Darcy,

We are flattered. {I have used the word "flattered" way too many times within this one post , but I don't feel as though there is any other synonym that is adequate enough}. We're absolutely tickled. Figuratively speaking of course.

We {The Anti-Austens} have the spent the morning debating. We took a gander at your blog, we did our best to find you on Facebook, and we are almost certain that you are not a rapist/general creeper. So yes, Mr. Self-Proclaimed Darcy, one of us {The Anti-Austens} will meet you at The Chocolate on Tuesday evening. We are not disclosing as to which of us will be meeting you. When you meet one of us, we may not even tell you our real name. A great deal of trust is being placed upon this endeavor, and so we hope against all hope that our assumptions about your trustworthiness are correct. As to whether you and one of us become star-crossed {blog-crossed?} lovers remains to be seen.

Until You Meet One of Us,

The Coquette

P.S. Readers, if one of us goes missing after Tuesday, you know what happened.

Accidental Cuddling

So...last night I went over to watch a movie with the boy I mentioned a few posts back. Remember, the frustrating one? The one that I couldn't figure out?

Well, I thought I had finally figured him out. He told my roommate that he wasn't interested in me. (Not like that, anyways.) And I realized I wasn't really interested in him, either. But we'd still hang out. We'd still chat all the time. I even gave him a pep talk before his date with the lovely lady he's actually interested in.

And then last night....

...I accidentally cuddled with him.

Yeahhh. Whoops.

Keep in mind that non-committal cuddling is not something that I do. The only boys I've ever cuddled with were boys that I was dating. And NCMOs? Never.

But then last night, I somehow found myself cuddling with The Friend. He's always been a pretty touchy guy, but then last night he was touchier than usual. And...then his arm was around me. And then he was pulling me in closer. And then we were cuddling.

And...I realized that I definitely wasn't interested. 1, because our cuddle session didn't make me feel the way that cuddling with a boy you actually like usually makes you feel, and 2, because I was thinking about The Ex.

Yikes.

I wasn't really into it. And I wasn't quite sure how I got into that situation in the first place. Afterwards, I was mostly left with a feeling of What just happened here?!

He sent me a text afterwards that said, "I hope the fact that we cuddled a little doesn't ruin our friendship. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let that happen. I hope it didn't ruin what we have--I enjoy our talks and the time we spend together."

I told him it was okay.

But is it?

And...what now? Can I really hang out with him if I'm worried he's going to pull something like that?

Um...whoops,
The Charmer

I've been called to serve

as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to this place!!!!

I report Sept 7th and I couldn't be more stoked! :0)

-the Romantic

How to be Charming, Part 1

Okay, as promised....
After three years of observation, my Roommate has decided to divulge what she believes are the secrets to my success when it comes to men.
I, of course, have some little tidbits of my own I would like to input, but I'll hand it over to her first.

The Charmer

As The Charmer mentioned in her last post, I have been an active observer of her love life over
the past few years. I’ve seen her woo and be wooed. From my observations, this is how The
Charmer manages to charm no fewer than five men per week:

Tip 1: Dress well.

Due to the nature of this blog, you have no idea what The Charmer looks like, so just trust me
when I tell you—she’s really cute. While she does have lots of natural beauty, The Charmer
does a lot to make sure she looks her best. She has quite the wardrobe and she has the golden
touch when it comes to making outfits. Even when she’s having a “bad hair day” or feels “ugly”,
The Charmer looks good. And men notice that.

Tip 2: Be Confident.

The Charmer has an air of confidence around her all the time. I have seen a lot of girls (and
guys) who act awkward whenever they are around members of the opposite sex, but not so
with The Charmer. She doesn’t pull out her phone, or laugh uncomfortably, or talk incessantly
when she’s around men. She is completely natural. This doesn’t mean that The Charmer is
never nervous to go on a date or even talk to a boy. It does mean that when she is with a guy,
all nerves are set aside and she acts like herself.

Tip 3: Smile.

Almost 100% of the time I am out with The Charmer, she is smiling. She is happy. She is
cheerful. Let’s face it—nobody likes a downer. And though The Charmer has some bad days,
she smiles far more than she ever frowns. Everyone is drawn to happy people, men included.

Tip 4: Be interested in other people.

The Charmer has a knack for asking questions. Unlike me, who will chatter on and on about
myself, The Charmer has learned how to show interest in others. Whenever we are with a
group of people, The Charmer will ask other people about themselves. People naturally love to
talk about themselves, so showing interest in what they have to say is a very attractive quality.

Tip 5: Get to know lots of different people.

In our time here at BYU, The Charmer and I have met a lot of different people, some of which
could be kindly referred to as “eccentric”. Quite a few of the eccentric men have shown a lot
of interest in The Charmer. Though the feeling is not usually reciprocal, The Charmer has taken
the time to go on a date or two with these guys and get to know them. A lot of girls want to go
on dates, but stealthily avoid the creepers and weirdos. While this is sometimes a wise move,
I think that part of The Charmer’s ease with men has come from taking the bad with the good.
She has spent time with a lot of different guys, which makes her more adaptable in the dating
world.

This is not an all-exhaustive list, but there you have some of the main things that make The
Charmer such a charmer. I hope that my observations can help someone out there make some
positive changes in their love life. One last piece of advice—don’t think that you have to be
exactly like The Charmer to win over men. Be yourself, but be your very best self! Good things (and men) really do come to those who wait!

The Roommate

All Sorts of Trouble

Dear Readers,

As I have been recounting my woeful dating tales for you, I have become very aware of this strange palpitation within my chest. As I write {er...type} these things, it feels very much like I am reliving these events all over again. I have been feeling dizzy and slightly nauseous. {Perhaps these are symptoms of the flu?} Some of these stories sicken me, as I am sure they will sicken you. During my extreme Siren days, I was the definition of instability and inconstancy. These things are difficult for me to write. If my character wasn't anonymous, you would never find these things pasted on the internet. However, I have discovered that although often nauseating, these entries have proven to be quite therapeutic. A final purge if you will. I am not scrounging for your pity. I do not want that at all. I write these things so that you may be wiser than I have been. And so that those of you, who like me, have been somewhat less Elizabeth Bennet-esque may feel that you are not alone and you are not hopeless. Am I dramatic enough for you?

Now for Mr. Tennis. This one's a real doozie.

Mr. Tennis. *Major Sigh* He was unexpected. If I were to compare him to anyone, I would classify him as the Mr. Lefroy type. The sort of person who is exceedingly arrogant but at the same time quite charming. Infuriating is what he was.

Everything that happened between Mr. Tennis and myself seems purely chance. Except chance is often dismissed as a non-existent force. Nothing happens by chance. Does it?

One lovely summer weekend, a friend and I went out of town to visit my sister. Mr. Tennis was at my sister's house when we arrived. I attempted to ignore him the whole evening. He was handsome. Very much so. He was flirty {towards my friend}. He was cocky. He was loud. He was annoying.

The next day was different. We had unexpectedly become chums. Before I had time to register and calculate the implications of this new-found friendship, our hands were interdigitated. We began spending every moment together.

"Stay away from him," my sister warned. "He's just a player."

And as rebels often do, I completely ignored her advice and went on my merry way.

The next evening, Mr. Tennis, myself and a group of friends were watching a movie. Mr. Tennis and I were snug on the couch. Common sense began to creep into the darkest recesses of my brain and enlighten my mind. I needed to stop this before I did anything completely idiotic. "Let's go get a drink of water," I whispered in his ear. He complied. My dear friend who only wanted to save me from myself followed us, with the excuse that she needed some water as well. Back to the movie. Escape tactic #2: "I really need to talk to you. Can we go upstairs?" Again compliance.

Once I knew that we were alone, I poured out my feelings to him. The logical side of my feelings at least. "What are we doing Mr. Tennis {of course I didn't refer to him as Mr. Tennis then}? This isn't going to go anywhere. I'm leaving tomorrow and you're staying here. The chances are not likely that we'll be around each other much. What are we doing?" Then he did the lowest thing any man could ever do to a woman like myself. He had the audacity to get sad! He looked at the floor in a contemplative you're-breaking-my-heart sort of way. The beast could make a rat feel sorry for him. I was the rat. I inched forward and hugged him, feeling truly sorry to have hurt him, but relieved I had spoken my peace. Then he began to kiss me. And goodness knows I'm not the sort that has the ability to think clearly while being kissed.

"Will I ever see you again?" he begged. "Please say that I will. I care for you so much."

All bets were off. Common sense was out the window. I assured him that we would work something out. Except. I was dating Mr. Cowboy. And of course, I did not tell Mr. Tennis that.

"You let him kiss you!?" my sister yelled when I told her. "I'm going to kill him." Oh how I wished someone would kill me instead. I was going home. Mr. Cowboy was waiting for me.

I broke up with Mr. Cowboy. I thought he hated me. I semi-dated Mr. Tennis. I thought he truly cared for me. Our relationship was altogether undefined. We emailed. Sometimes we called. Once in a blue moon I would "visit my sister" and see him. Mr. Tennis did come up for New Years. I thought that was the start of a real relationship. He was flirty. He was affectionate. He was endearing. Mr. Tennis gave me a necklace. Doesn't that sort of thing mean, "You're my girlfriend," or something to that affect? At least I thought that's what it meant. A day after he left, Mr. Tennis told me he wasn't interested in dating anyone at the time. He had some things he needed to "figure out." It was just a break. Nothing permanent.

I was understanding. I was also determined. Determined to be loyal to someone. I wore that necklace everyday for one whole year as a symbol of my devotion. {You don't have to tell me, I know I'm stupid}.

One year later, I transferred schools to the same city as Mr. Tennis. {Not purely for the sake of being near him. It was just time to transfer schools}. Then Mr. Tennis felt a little more obligated to tell me the truth. {Because I was too oblivious to see for myself}. "Coquette, I'm sort of dating someone else. You've been such a good friend to me, but now is the time for a new chapter in our lives. I just don't see you as anything other than as a friend. Can we still be friends?"

Yes.

I asked him if he actually ever had feelings for me. "Not at first. I just wanted to kiss you. I did like you after a while though..."

Thanks Mr. Tennis. You really are the quite the charmer aren't you?

You know what they say, Hindsight really is 20/20. When I look back, I can see how idiotic I was. My stalwart thoughts of devotion were for a guy who didn't even feel the same as I did. Not even remotely.

But you know, not even the best of Jane Austen's characters fall for the right guy at first. Elizabeth finds Mr. Wickham to be captivating. Anne entertains thoughts of marrying Mr. Elliot. Marianne more than falls for Willoughby. But in the end, they end up with the really great guys. Mr. Darcy. Captain Wentworth. Colonel Brandon. I take comfort in the fact that though sometimes brief {or not so brief in my case} moments of stupidity can lead to the happiest of endings.

Con Amor,

The Coquette

Head, Shoulders, Knees, and...Elbows?

Dear Anti-Austins,

Could you please explain the elbow touching thing? I feel like I'm always stuck in the "friend zone", but I hope that some elbow touching can release me. Help!

-Kim


Dear Kim,
A word about elbow touching:
I used to be horrible at it. Perhaps it was my girl instinct that told me that me elbow touching was THE way to get a man's attention, but that didn't matter. I over analyzed and over thought every squeeze, caress, and touch. That left me with only my eyes and charming wit to flirt by. But the guys I liked never seemed to get that my large fawning stares at their charming selves meant I liked them.

It's crazy, but if you ask any guy how a girl should let a guy know she likes him, I guarantee he'll always say he knows when a girl likes him, because she touches him.

Now an elbow grab doesn't mean you should literally grab onto their elbow and hold on to it with all your might.

Any sort of physical contact will do really. A pat on the back. A squeeze of the shoulders. It all helps.

Hopefully this is what you're looking for! I must say, I feel a bit ridiculous offering an advice since my life is lacking in the love department lately.
But touching elbows always seems to help, though it isn't fool proof by any means...

Best of luck!
-the Romantic

ps. some older posts where I've mention elbows
**Creeper Lovin'
**Elbows Touching

pps. my bishop said my call was in the mail. so tomorrow should be the big day... or the day after that!

"To Be Fond of Dancing Was a Certain Step Towards Falling in Love"

Mr. Cowboy caught me off guard then and there. He was a country swing dancer, a hopeless romantic, and I fell head over heels for his boots and tight Wranglers. {Too graphic?} It was altogether too easy to love his quirky small-town charm.

But he was dating someone else.

I admit that I did something drastic. I prayed to have the opportunity to date Mr. Cowboy. Perhaps it's not incredibly drastic, but it was incurably desperate. {Please say you've done that too!}

What happened next was nothing short of a miracle. Mr. Cowboy broke up with his girlfriend so he could date me.

Mr. Cowboy was the first guy I danced with in the rain. {In fact that was our first date. Planned? No. Adorable? Absolutely}.

Mr. Cowboy was the first guy to hold my hand.

Mr. Cowboy was the first guy to come to my window at one o' clock in the morning just because he wanted to talk to me. {If he wasn't so darn cute it would have been creepy}.

Mr. Cowboy still remains the first and only boy to ever give me flowers.

Mr. Cowboy was my first kiss.

There was a certain thrill in belonging to Mr. Cowboy. Most people didn't understand our attraction to one another {and perhaps we didn't understand it either}. He rode horses. I read Jane Austen novels {and nowhere does she mention cowboys}. He listened to country music. I listened to The Beatles. He wanted to watch 8 Seconds. I wanted to watch Sense and Sensibility. He drove a HUGE Dodge Ram 4x4. I drove a tiny Honda Civic. He wrestled cows. I wrestled...nothing. He could pick me up and throw me over his shoulder {what girl doesn't love that?}. There is no way I was carrying him anywhere. But we could talk/dance for hours. And that's exactly what we did almost every night for five months.

He told me he loved me.

I got scared. I ran. Right into the wily arms of Mr. Tennis.

I broke Mr. Cowboy's oh-so-loving and tender heart.

He shattered the windshield of his truck with his fist after I told him.

I still can't decide if I hurt him on purpose or if I just wasn't thinking clearly. I can probably claim both cases.

But before you label me as just a heartless guttersnipe, please know that hurting him was not only painful for him, it was excruciating for me. I was {am} truly sorry for what I did and believe me, I have paid for it.

That was four years ago. A lot of ground has been covered between Mr. Cowboy and me. There are still many pieces left of our story. He forgave me. Almost instantly. But by the time I realized that his forgiveness included giving me a second chance, I was already too enthralled with Mr. Tennis. Mr. Cowboy has given me many chances over the years. It's much too much of a story to all be covered now, but I promise to give you all those details at a later time.

Mr. Cowboy is serving his mission now. I am so proud of him. He's coming home in December. He made me promise him a date when he gets home if I'm not married or engaged.

Chance #453

I am afraid of letting this chance pass me by.

Con Amor,

The Coquette

A Bit More Encouragement

Ah, Belle. I'm so glad you asked us for advice!

You probably read the email she sent us Anti-Austens in which she asked for some help getting a few more men into her life. If not, scroll down just a tad and you'll see it.
(PS....we love emails! Send us more!!)

Anyways, I've decided that the perfect person to answer her question is...

...my roommate.

I know, I know, you were expecting me to say that I had all the answers for you. I am known around here as "The Charmer", after all.
I wish I had a clear-cut formula for you on "how to make men fall in love with you". I really do. But despite the fact that I somehow manage to charm lots of boys, I don't exactly know how I do it.

However, I have a roommate who's been watching me for 3 years now. Despite the fact that she's a fiery, funny, and fantastic girl, she usually finds herself at the shallow end of the dating pool. And because of that, she's been determined to figure out what it is that I do to win guys over.

So, Belle, and any other curious ladies...I'm going to turn it over to her. And she's going to give you a lowdown on "How to be Charming." I'll interject my own advice here and there, but I feel like it might be more helpful to hear it from her, someone who's watched me time and time again as I work my magic.

Just a little patience. The posts will be up soon. :)

Kisses,
The Charmer

A Touch of Encouragement

First of all, we are always beyond flattered to receive emails from our dear readers. This beauty recently found its way into our inbox:

Okay so I was wondering... how do you girls do it!? How do you get so many men (enough to entertain an entire following of blog-readers) into your love lives. I realize that this question could be mainly directed at the Charmer, but she's not the only one who seems to have better luck than most of us.

My problem right now is a lack of men. I'm back in Provo for the summer while most of my friends, girl and guy friends, are at home for the season. Now usually I at least have a gaggle of unsuitable suitors, but now, nothing! It seems that without my normal social circle to work with, I cannot meet guys and maintain an acceptable- okay, I'd be willing to take unacceptable at this point- social or dating life. How can I locate and attract these men?!

-Belle

P.S. Please don't tell me to go to ward activities, I have that covered.

Dear Belle,

I hope that anything I say today will help you at all. If anything, perhaps it will give you some form of consolation. I cannot pretend that I am Seventeen magazine and have all the answers and advice about dating. {I feel like Seventeen's advice is a lot of you know what anyway}.

The other day, The Romantic, The Eccentric One, The Blue Stocking and I were discussing this very topic. {Or something at least quite similar}. We laughed at how this blog makes us seem. Like we are modern Mormon dating machines. When perhaps that may not be the case. Well, for The Charmer, that definitely is the case. Men are simply crawling out of the woodwork to spend a few precious hours with her. But for the rest of us, I would venture to say that more often than not, our Friday nights are relatively dateless. A sad truth? Yes. But a truth nonetheless.

In my last post, I referred to my two-year hiatus from men.

The truth is, no one asked me out. For two years.

I am beyond grateful from this break from men now, but at the time, it was hard. I was used to having several unsuitable suitors and even some very suitable suitors. But for the past two years, there has been no one. I kept analyzing myself, trying to find what was wrong with me. Was I too ugly? Was I too nerdy? Was I too fat? Was I not stylish enough? Was I not spiritual enough? Etcetera. Etcetera. Etcetera.

No, I wasn't too ugly. I had a face and a body that was comparably in order. Perhaps I am too nerdy, but people don't usually discover that until they've talked to me for more than an hour. I wasn't too fat. I wouldn't capsize a standard rowboat. I may not be the most stylish person I know, but I don't wear Jane Austen style dresses or lederhosen in public. And who do they think they are if they are judging my spirituality without actually knowing me? The dating thing just wasn't happening for me then.

For a while, I have been feeling just as you are feeling. Like I'm the only fish in this giant pond without another fish to swim around with. Or at least several attractive male fish to just go on dates with.

This is my advice to you {keep in mind that I don't know your situation personally}:

It is great that you are going to all the ward activities. That is generally a good thing to do. I understand all too well how difficult it is to get out of your comfort zone when all of your usual friends are gone, but do it anyways. Talk to anyone and everyone, both guys and girls. Men are usually attracted to a girl's social competence and confidence. Be a little flirty {not over the top though}. Touch a few elbows. Put yourself out there. Make plans for activities and invite people {especially boys you're interested in} to join you.

However, there is no set method or formula to any of this. I have found that the times when I have "entranced" the most boys is when I'm being genuine. When they can see that I'm putting my actual self out into the ring and that I am happy with the self I present. Whatever it is that you decide to do, it has to be genuine. There are no artificial Jane Austen heroines.

So dear Belle {and other readers}, please know that I, The Coquette, am in the same boat as you and this is my advice to you.

Con Amor,

The Coquette

Advice from The Blue Stocking:

Yes, while The Charmer is certainly the woman to ask (I would personally love to know exactly how she does it) I will give you a bit of advice from my experience.

Finding guys is random. You could meet him in a class, through a mutual friend, at church, at work, anywhere really; just don’t expect the same place to work every time. The only thing that’s a sure constant is mutual friends. After all you like your friend, they like this guy, which leads you to believe he’s not a psychopath….it’s a start.

You mentioned that you are out on your usual friends and that can make meeting new people hard. So try and be as friendly as possible, find a new circle of friends, mingle and mix it up. Just don’t go out looking for a guy, look for friends and just maybe you can find someone you like.

I know this answer is hardly helpful, but if I knew how to solve your problem I would be married myself. Dating’s hard, finding a guy is hard, I say go with the flow and try and meet as many new people as possible. And as always have fun.

The Blue Stocking

Meet Scooter

Do you know those charming guys, the ones who know exactly how good looking they are and the effect they have on women. Yes, well those guys are not my type. My type is the cute awkward guys who are smart, hilarious, and very very kind.

Introducing Scooter. Scooter is the new guy in the ward who is attractive, funny, and all of those other qualities that make you go weak in the knees.

Unfortunately, Scooter knows he is all of these things and with the use of his romantic little scooter he is seducing girls left and right

Naturally Scooter has a very loyal fan club of girls and believe me he takes full advantage of it. He can often be found taking girls out for rides...cheesy, yes; effective, double yes.

So let's just say Scooter and I have been going on a lot of rides. During this time I confirmed the fact that I do not like guys who KNOW they are attractive, charming, and outgoing....at all. Don't get me wrong I think Scooter is hilarious and I would love to be his friend...his friend that he doesn't hit on.

How do I get the friend part across to this guy who does not ask me on dates, but wants to have awkward hangout time where he feels the need to bust moves on me?

It's been months and all I've accomplished is making him think I am coy and playing hard to get. I don't get it, he has plenty of girls who are in love with him, why is he so obsessed with the one girl who isn't?!

It started out slow, the occasional hangout texts, but now we've entered "I'm texting you every night" territory.

These texts make me feel trapped and give me the intense desire to hide, especially since I've decided alone time needs to be completely axed (I won't get into too many details on the why's of this decision, but just believe me when I say it's getting uncomfortable for me).

I know you're probably thinking I am being completely ridiculous and well you have a point, I am.

I really don't know what to do.

If I make a bold statement of "I do not want to date you, STOP TEXTING ME." He could easily respond with complete denial of any feelings or attempts to date me.

O Men and their tricky non dating, but kind of dating tricks; they confuse the chocolate out of me.

So I'm trying to play it cool....and by cool I mean every time I get a text I'm sprinting through my house, ducking under windows, trying desperately to make him think I'm not home.

So far

Hangouts 6
Clever excuses 15

The thing is he is very insistent that I go places with him and he is very used to getting his way.
Example:

Scooter: "Come hot tubing :-)" (A.K.A Half naked cuddle time, no thank you)

Me: "Actually I'm going to the movies"

Scooter: "Movies are lame, come hot tubing :-)" ( did I mention he overuses the smiley face, it's weird and frankly no one is that happy)

Me: "I really want to see this movie, sorry maybe next time"

Scooter: You're coming right"

Me: "Um....no"

Scooter. "Ya you're coming, we're outside come"

Me: “No, have fun though”

Scooter: “Can I steal you after?”

Me: “Um…sure ha ha (nervous laughter I might add)”

Pathetic.

Basically, I've gotten to the point where I don't care how cute and charming he is, I refuse to be trapped into going places when I don't want to.

But why do guys do this? What is with the incessant, controlling, confusing, touchy hang outs?

- The Blue Stocking

Date, thy name is random

10am this morning, I'm mopping the floor in my kitchen.

In pops the head of The Last-Minute Dater. The Last-Minute Dater is named thus because he is notorious for walking around Saturday mornings asking people on dates for that night. Often the girls in my ward are busy, and often he complains about how often he gets turned down.
But what do you expect Last-Minute Dater? Of course most girls would have plans...

So as I mop my kitchen floor this morning, The Last Minute dater asks if I would like to double with him and his friend this afternoon on a date to the Alpine Slide in Park City.

I didn't have any plans. So I said yes. Even though I didn't really want to go. It was just one of those days where I didn't want to make small talk with a complete stranger if I didn't have to.

Enter The Quiet Man.

The Quiet Man is an elementary ed major from American Fork. He was nice enough, but he hardly spoke.

A little taste of our conversation:

"So what made you decide to go into el ed?"
"Oh, it's a really long story.... I looked into teaching before my mission. And then on my mission, I really liked teaching kids. So when I came back..."

Long story? I think not.

I was able to keep the conversation going all the way to Park City, but I just couldn't do it once we reached the slide.

And on the way home, the other girl fell asleep in the car. So I ended up just talking to The Last-Minute Dater as The Quiet Man just sat there in silence.

At least I was spared the awkward door step scene. I just had to deal with an awkward parking lot scene instead.

Do you think my mission call will come this week?

ciao bellas
-the Romantic

Fin!

Ever since my date with Finn a fortnight ago, I've been inviting him to do things with my roomies and I.

But he always seemed to be busy.

And I suddenly remembered why I don't go for the jocks. We have nothing in common, and therefore nothing to talk about.

When I was but a little naive high school girl, I wondered how all my friends who dated could possibly talk to their boyfriends as much as they did. I even had one friend who would call her boyfriend before seminary. And I never understood what they would talk about when they had just hung up the phone hours before.

That was all before I dated Mr. Advice.

Before Mr. Advice and I even started dating, we would stay up for hours talking outside my apartment. Those late night talks were everything I had been looking for but never quite been able to put into words.

Since then, the number one thing I've looked for in a man is a good conversationalist.

Things came close with Sweater Guy. But no cigar.

Talking with Finn is like trying to pull teeth. Painful and bloody. Ok, that's a gross exaggeration (gross as in large, and as in kind of disgusting). Talking with Finn is more like a one sided conversation with myself. Occasionally he pipes in...occasionally.

It's just my luck that the few guys (by few I mean two) I've found that I could talk to for hours already have girlfriends.

Finn's emoticon laced texts are a welcome distraction I suppose, though I've never been the emoticon type of girl. And he did finally come over to hang out with us for four hours. Maybe he is interested... He did sit by me in Sunday School last week... And his texts are always so enthusiastic... But am I interested?

Perhaps my mission call will come this week.

Maybe.

xoxo
-the Romantic

A Frustrating Tale of a Frustrating Boy

Well, I did it. I added him...the politics-crazed one. Thanks for your advice.
If he happens to play an influential role in my life...we'll refer to him in the future as "Mr. President." If not, then maybe you'll never hear about him again.

I realized that I've neglected to update you on some of the more recent men-happenings in my life.

There is one man in particular (And yes, he really is a "man," clocking in at 25 years of age. Apparently I've grown up, since I'm not going after 21-year-olds anymore.) who I just can't seem to figure out. One week we spent four nights in a row up until the late hours of the morning just chatting. I could tell that he was interested in me...why else would a boy spend the whole night talking to me?...and yet he wasn't pursuing me. I was definitely interested in him, too, but his odd method of pursuing/non-pursuing confused me.

Now it's been a few weeks and he's still playing this odd game of pursue/not-to-pursue. I know he's interested in another girl, because some of our more recent late-night chats have been about her. But then why does he still act so flirtatiously towards me?

He knows how many dates I go on. His new favorite joke is that dating is my "part-time job," since I spent about 20 hours on dates last week (one on Wednesday, two on Thursday, one on Saturday). He even admitted that he usually backs down when he feels like there's too much competition for a girl's affections. So I tried to make it very easy for him. He was the one I was spending time with at night. He was the one that I laughed about all my dates with. Maybe I didn't make it obvious enough that I wasn't interested in those other guys. But I thought that he could tell I was interested in him since I was spending so much time with him...and not those other guys.

Well, I guess maybe I wasn't clear enough. After about a month of this odd relationship, he still has yet to ask me on a real date.
Anyways, my interest has started to wane. And unless he makes a move soon, he's going to miss out and I'm going to move on.

(But hopefully we'll still be friends. I really do like the kid.)

Ta-ta,
The Charmer

Ex-boyfriends; can’t live with them…can’t kill them.

After reading about the Romantic's run-in with the ex, I instantly felt for her. I too coexist with my ex on campus and daily run-in's have become a hilarious part of my life. My experience this last semester has left me with some definite opinions on how one should handle the situation.....

All the classic villains die. It’s just a fact. At the end of the movie, you know that Batman/Superman/Spiderman is going to heroically escape while the villain plunges to his ultimate demise.

So why can’t your own personal villains die in some tragic yet hilarious way?

In my opinion ex-boyfriends share a freakish similarity to a movie villain and the world would be better if they ‘accidentally’ fell off a cliff.

But here’s how ex-boyfriend's are worse; unlike these movie villains, ex-boyfriends go on living and have the uncanny ability of becoming the bane of your day to day life. Just think how much nicer life would be if you could break up, and they would simply stop existing. No more text’s, no more run-ins, and definitely no more having to find new routes around campus.

Here’s the thing, it’s not like you still like him, it’s just the fact that you are now coexisting with a stranger who knows way to much about you; someone who has the power to make your world crumble whenever he sees fit.

So girls here’s my solution. Don’t hide. Walk right up to that manipulating, narcissistic, arrogant boy and smile because there will be nothing worse for him than finding out he no longer affects you….and killing will only earn you time in the slammer.

-The Blue Stocking

Introducing The Blue Stocking

Hello!

I would like to introduce myself; I am The Blue Stocking, so named for my love of all things literature. If you’ve never heard of the blue stockings here is a history lesson for you.

In England in the 1700’s women of society were beginning to express their boredom with being sent of to embroidery, rather than being invited to engage in conversation with men. These women formed the Blue Stocking Society and invited learned men to gather informally with them to talk about books, literature, art, as well as places and events that interested them. They were described as, “always being ladies, never pedants, they regarded life with intelligence and common sense, formed their own opinions, followed their own tastes; and accomplished something towards the ideal of a gay and frank comradeship with brilliant and learned men.”

With some minor adjustments, the previous quote can serve to accurately describe myself.

“always a lady, never a pedant, she regards life with intelligence and common sense, forming her own opinions, followed her own tastes; and accomplishing something towards the ideal of a gay and frank relationship with a brilliant and learned man.”

I conclusion, I am the Blue Stocking.

Now my dating life is an open book and I hope you enjoy it, I know I sure do.

- The Blue Stocking

Politics.

This post is particularly patriotic, given the nature of this wonderful holiday we are celebrating. (And when I say patriotic, I only mean that I mention the word "politics" a number of times.)

So...I need to know. Is this terribly judgmental of me?

I met a guy this past week who was nice, fairly cute, and seemed like a pretty good guy. He piqued my interest enough that I made the effort to Facebook stalk him.

Luckily, he was one of those people who doesn't make their profile private...so I did a quick look through his pictures, looking particularly for any recently re-appearing girls. (There were none.) From his pics, he seems like one of those ambitious PoliSci majors who are set on becoming president. This threw me for a little loop at first but I figured I could handle it. Boyfriends who are potential presidential material might be fun to have around.

I finished the photo-stalk and was about to add him when I decided just to peek at his wall and see if there was anything interesting. The first status I saw was that he had decided to change his political affiliation to the party that opposes my own. And then there was status after status referencing politics.

I shook my head and closed the browser window. WITHOUT adding him.

Is that bad of me? I'm a person who can't STAND people who like to talk politics. Sure, I care enough to be informed, but I really hate discussing them. I especially hate discussing political issues with people who get really jazzed about them. And, well, it looks like we'd probably have some differing opinions, given his relatively new party affiliation.

I don't know. Maybe I should have given him a chance. I'm obviously judging a book by its cover. But still...from what I read, it didn't seem like I'd be particularly interested in him.

What do you guys think? Should I have added him despite his political zealousness?

The Charmer

The Reformation: In Which the Coquette Makes a Glorious Return

Dear Readers,
First, let me beg forgiveness for my absence from this lovely blog. I have been on a hiatus. Not a hiatus from blogging per say, but a hiatus from men. Thus, I have not had anything worthwhile to contribute for your feasting eyes. But allow me to say this: The hiatus is over. It has been over two years. And finally it is finished.

I am The Coquette. So named for my flirty ways and mild promiscuity. But that was me two years ago. I was a Siren beckoning to men, and then I would dash them cruelly on the rocks. I didn't understand the power that I had, and I had no control over that power. It controlled me and it killed them. I can feel the burning of your judgment as I write this, and I am almost too ashamed to admit this character flaw.

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive."
-Sir Walter Scott

However, I have since been reformed, or on the path to reformation at least. I may still be a Coquette, yes, but no longer a Siren. No longer a Temptress. No longer a Maneater. I did not take this hiatus from men purposefully, it just happened that way. I feel deeply that Providence had a great hand in my life during this time. I needed that period, to overcome myself, to be forgiven and forgive myself in return. And now I'm here. Ready and waiting to jump back into the dating pool with both feet. Not awkwardly hugging the ledge anymore. Not timidly testing the waters with the tip of my toe. I am jumping in. I am excited, nay, ecstatic. It has been a long time, and I feel an odd lack of confidence in my ability to be in a relationship with any man, but it is a nice feeling. It is a much more innocent feeling than I had before. A bashful, hopeful, flirty, intriguing excitement.

And now dear readers, I have a request of you. I have reached a bit of an impasse as to what I should write on this blog. I would like to know what it is you would like to know of me. My past is tangled and crooked {albeit intriguing} and to understand me, you may need to understand my past. How I became a Coquette. Is that what you would like to know? Or do you wish for me to start from the now? My new beginning. I will be pleased to entertain you with both, but I do wish to consider your opinions.

Allow me to add: I met Mr. Military a week ago. And I must say that I am smitten with him. Perhaps I am feeling a bit too patriotic, and perhaps he is just looking a little too dapper with his military hair cut, but my, he is quite the charmer. Although, I am not quite certain if he is interested in me. I used to be able to discern these things in a moment {during my Siren days}, but now I am so unsure. I've lost my powers! Oh well, it should be exciting.

You might not get another post from me for another week or so because I am returning to the homeland to "rough it" in the "backwoods." I'm just going to let Mr. Military stew for a while and let him really begin to miss my presence in his life. I will be back with the juicy details as soon as is possible.

Goal for the Week After Next: Woo Mr. Military. {All the while I will be chanting to myself, "Reform! Reform! Reform!"}

Con Amor,
The Coquette