Pictures of perfection.

12/29/2013 The Lady 3 Comments

"Pictures of perfection make me sick and wicked."
--Jane Austen

It has been much too long since I wrote last. Apologies, apologies.

A quick update about Mary and The Bearded Hobbit:

I was quite right about The Bearded Hobbit and his interest in the Nineteen-Year-Old Nuisance. As of a couple weeks before the Christmas break, the two began "officially" dating. Poor Mary. She insists that she isn't much bothered, but she also has asked me more than once why I think the older men in our area tend to date the younger girls. I for one have no answer to give. I repeat: poor Mary.

Other things to address:

Recently, a reader asked if we find technology to be a help or hindrance to the dating process. In search of a simple answer, I have stewed over this question much longer than was probably necessary. And of course, I have not been able to come up with a simple answer at all. I think that technology can be both a help and a hindrance to dating.

As much as I love sending and receiving hand-written letters (I truly do love letters), the technology we have is ever so helpful. If I need to contact someone on the other side of the world in a hurry, I have a multitude of means at my disposal. Back in the olden days when I was actually seriously dating men, we could contact each other through seemingly limitless mediums. If my phone was on the fritz (which seemed to happen often back then) we could send each other messages through email, Facebook, etc. All the technology we have is quite brilliant.

I assume, however, that the question asked was not about how helpful technology is in getting in touch with people, but rather how I view modern modes of dating (aka online dating).

Ladies and gentleman, please fasten your seat belts.

Due to a creepy experience I had with an online chat room (do those still exist?) when I was a wee lass, I had vowed to never ever be involved with online dating. I was quite hard-nosed about it for years and years, and harshly judged anyone who participated in anything like it. I was convinced there could only be horrible consequences for those who got involved with someone they only knew from online. But after hearing countless tales of what good had come of it for friends and relatives, my heart began to soften slightly.

Online dating is such a regular part of our culture, that it is difficult to condemn it, and I am not certain that condemnation is what it deserves. I think that it provides opportunities for people to meet that other circumstances might never make possible. But with that said, I'm not exactly all for it either.

In my most personal and most biased opinion, I still never want to be involved in online dating. Yes, I know the rule to never say "never" and yes, I did go through a short Tinder stint, but no more I say! It isn't so much that I think all men to be found on online sites are crummy, fake, or shallow, but it's more about what I've discovered about myself when I've briefly tried online dating/meeting/whatever.

It is much too easy to be fake. And I am not talking about all the creepers (which definitely exist), I am talking about myself. When chatting or emailing guys online, I feel I am only half myself. I am only the parts of myself that I let them see. My photos are perfectly angled and cropped to only accentuate my best features and effectively hide those flaws I am not too partial to. I am perfectly witty and flirty because I can sit and think about my responses rather than allow the usual awkward babble that tends to escape my lips. Men become interested by the picture of myself that I present to them rather than the reality that I am. And it is not as though I am intentionally manipulative, it is just what happens with online interactions. It just isn't real. At least for me.

So for my answer to technology and dating: it's a personal choice. It is not for me, but maybe it is for you. Maybe you're not a phony like I am, and maybe you've had great experiences unlike yours truly. Like most things in life, it is a matter of personal taste.

Oh, be wise. What can I say more?

Con Amor,

The Lady

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Introducing: The Home Teacher and The Cousin

12/18/2013 The Blue Stocking 2 Comments

The Home Teacher

It’s hard to describe my Home Teacher. I feel like he’s someone you would over look, but once you do look you’re interested. Sort of the guy next door, but not really. I find this description to be most unhelpful.

The first time he came over to visit we spent an hour discussing literature. The next time he came he brought me chocolate. You can see why I like him right? There’s just one little problem, he’s two inches shorter than me. I won’t even go into the height debate. We’ve beat that dilemma into the ground.

Anyhoo, after sacrament meeting I was talking with one of my friends when he abruptly sat down beside me and said “Hey Blue, wow this is awkward right, yeah sorry I just wanted to see..” and he continues on telling me about the many adventures I needed to be a part of.

If you didn’t find the previous tale to be incredible charming, it is my own fault I can’t seem to describe him how I want to. I guess the best thing to say is he makes me feel comfortable and I happen to be a big fan of comfort nowadays.

Our repelling adventure got canceled (my bad) but we have set some future plans and I’ll let you know how those go.

The Cousin

Before the big reunion date with ol Smitie, he invited me to the movies with his cousin. When I got to the theater they were both seated and ready for the movie. Smitie briefly introduced me to The Cousin that just so happens to also be in my ward.

Confession: For months, I have had the sneaking suspicion that The Cousin and I belonged together. There are no facts to back this up, just a strong desire to kiss his face.

I pretended to be meeting the cousin for the first time (and the Oscar goes to Bluestocking for feigning indifference) and quickly did a brief I’m-amazing-date-me intro. The previews then kicked off and we immediately began joking and teasing each other. And by we I mean the cousin and me. Do you know those guys who make you feel really funny and clever and you also believe them to be the best thing ever? Well that’s what was going on.

I feel I need to say I did not leave Smitie out of the merriment.

After the movie, our wit was in full swing and I hate to make too bold of a statement, but I felt better joking with him than how I’ve felt with a guy in a year.

No joke.

I went there.

But you obviously see the problem. I’m currently going on dates with Smitie. Therefore, The Cousin is off limits…at least for now.

-The Bluestocking

Aaaamen.

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Smitie Returns

12/16/2013 The Blue Stocking 2 Comments

For some reason the persistent RM and Scooters of the world have a way of finding me. Remember Smitie? Well he’s back. After months of him going out of his way to never, and I mean never, talk to me he decided to make an appearance.

Earlier this month I entered Sunday School and Smitie was staring at me. He quickly looked away but not before I recognized The Look. The Look being that glance a boy gives you right before he builds up the courage to do something bold.

After SS I was on my way to Relief Society when he walked by and asked how I was. We did the weird we’re-both-moving-in-opposite-ways-but-you-just-started-a-convo-and-now-we’re-both-walking-backwards. After we moon walked back to each other we stayed in the hallway for a few minutes to chat. This chat made me realize I didn’t completely dislike this guy.

YES he is rather smug and YES he is inconsistent BUT he’s not the jerk I chalk him up to be. We were nearing the end of our catch-up convo when this happens:

Him: "So I know we bailed on each other earlier this year."

Me: (by bailed do you mean you ignored me?) "uhuh."

Him: "But I was wondering…"

Random girl in the ward that was sitting by Smitie in SS: “Blue RS is starting and you need to come to class now”

Me: "Yeah thanks, I’ll be there in a second."

Random Girl: "You need to come now, Smitie you shouldn’t be keeping her. Come on Blue (as she gestures for me to move into the RS room like I’m an incompetent 5-year-old) time for you to come to class."

But it didn’t end there. For the next 5 minutes this girl kept trying to pull me (physically and figuratively) into class while Smitie told her to leave us alone. At one point we just stood there forming a triangle of awkward silence. Finally she left and he asked me out.

This is just one example of some of the girls in our ward. I’m not accusing her of trying to sabotage Smitie’s ask out because I believe she likes him, but I am hinting at it pretty heavily. One of these posts will probably be dedicated to the boldness/obnoxiousness of the girls in my ward.

This same Sunday, my Home Teacher asked me out to go repelling. You could say I was on a roll.

-The Bluestocking

P.S. Posts to come: The Home Teacher and The Date with Smitie.

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Picking Up Where We Left Off

12/13/2013 The Blue Stocking 1 Comments

When we left off I was in pursuit of a guy I spent a total of 74 seconds with in a bookstore. Looking back I see that it’s easier to make a perfect man out of 74 seconds than out of months of interaction. I attempted to turn this brief affair into something much lengthier and intimate by stalking the bookstore in which we met. The only result was me proving to being a total creep show.

Story. Of. My. Life.

Fall kicked up and with it brought more guys with even interesting interactions and today we will focus on The Poly.

Ahh the mysterious Poly.

The weeks following The Poly's and my jaunt around the church were wrought with oddities of all kinds. And for once the oddities had nothing to do with me. Instead I started receiving random grammatically incorrect FB messages from him during and after church. Trying to suppress the inner English Major, I decided to cut the kid some slack. But the messages continued and he was nowhere to be found. Below is a brief excerpt from one of our conversations:

The Poly: “wyd"

The Poly: “?”

I was baffled. Was this code? Could it possible mean "what are you doing" and the “are” was implied?

Me:

Him: “cum over with movies.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, wow this really attractive guy wants to spend time with you. And this is what I was thinking, “I am not going over to some strangers apartment to “watch movies,” I choose life.”

And I get it, I over-reacted, but I really felt weird about the whole thing. The following Sunday I finally saw him in person. And by “saw” I mean I was talking to someone and he came up, elbowed me in the back, said hi, and then left. It’s strange, but whatever.

Our bizarre saga continues, but I’m waiting for something more eventful than a bruised back to update you on.

-The Bluestocking

P.S. More updates to come!

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Confusion begets confusion.

11/22/2013 The Lady 2 Comments

Because I am often not at home, nor particularly close with my roommate, Mary, there are a few gaps in what I know about her complex amour with The Bearded Hobbit. All I can relate are my own perceptions and speculations.

Earlier this week, I do know that Mary and The Bearded Hobbit went out on a date and another time for lunch, and then Mary had him and his roommates over again for dinner (no boef bourguignon this time) and a movie. I was back and forth between making my own dinner and doing laundry, but Mary and The Bearded Hobbit were sitting awfully close on the couch despite there being plenty of room. I stayed in the room long enough to witness Mary rest her hand on The Bearded Hobbit's leg. "Aha!" I thought, "Now everything is cleared up!" Until I looked at The Bearded Hobbit himself. He was just sitting there, neither resisting nor encouraging her affection. Nothing. The entire time I was in the room, he did nothing in the manner of reciprocation and nothing to reject her.

I hoped that it was me just being hypercritical of this strange little man's body language, but later events that week suggest otherwise. I was at ward choir practice minding my own business when The Bearded Hobbit showed up with the Nineteen-Year-Old-Nuisance in tow. He was even carrying her violin. Ugh.

Now I'm faced with a major dilemma: do I tell Mary or let her find out on her own?

Con Amor,

The Lady

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Everything means something.

11/16/2013 The Lady 4 Comments

Some things are never really in the past. For Mr. Cowboy that is especially true. Despite the fact that the two of us have not been Facebook friends for quite a while now, he messages me every so often. A fact which will never cease to be a mystery to me. Just yesterday, Mr. Cowboy messaged me again sending me some dumb YouTube video that he said reminded him of yours truly. I thought to myself, "Lady, you can let Mr. Cowboy bother you until the end of your days, or you can act as though it isn't a big deal and you can be cordial." So in response, I made a sarcastic joke. Mr. Cowboy became defensive. I made a joke about his being defensive. He became even more defensive, then stormed off {virtually} never to be heard from again {at least for now}. Needless to say, we don't know each other anymore.

Now back to my roommate, Mary, and The Bearded Hobbit.

Last Saturday, Mary had invited The Bearded Hobbit and his roommate over for dinner. She pulled out all the stops. And I mean ALL the stops. She made Julia Child's boef bourguignon. Yes, the it-takes-several-hours-to-cook and several-cups-of-red-wine boef bourguignon. I was nervous that it was all too much. Most girls would just cook tacos or something. Boef bourguignon is a statement meal. It is a this-is-the-sort-of-food-I-would-cook-for-you-if-we-were-married sort of meal. But it all went off surprisingly well and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Until Sunday afternoon that is.

I had an interview with my bishop after our ward's meetings, and as I was only one in a long line of interviews, I sat in the foyer with Mary until it was my time. After a while I realized that Mary wasn't waiting for an interview with the bishop, but rather for something else entirely. She kept looking anxiously around the corner at the doors to the chapel, tapping her feet, and sighing exasperatingly. I knew she must be waiting for The Bearded Hobbit to get out of his ward, but I played it cool just to be sure. I asked her if she was waiting to talk to the bishop too, but she sighed again loudly, glancing at the chapel once more and confirmed my suspicions: "Just waiting for The Bearded Hobbit to get out of sacrament meeting." I joked about her really liking him, but she denied the claim, "Oh, we're just friends, and I don't want to rush into anything." Then she continued to wait for at least a half hour for The Bearded Hobbit to get out of his ward just to say "hi".

Call me crazy, but people who just want to be friends don't generally do these sorts of things. Right?

Con Amor,

The Lady

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To Thine Own Self Be True: A Happy Ending

11/10/2013 The Blue Stocking 2 Comments

Dear Readers!

Happy Sunday, we received this email a while ago and I just had to post it. Stories like these make going to linger longer, FHE, and YSA parties all the more bearable. He/She's out there!

-The Blue Stocking

To the Ladies of the Anti Austen Blog,

I'm sure you receive so many emails that you don't remember me. I asked for some dating advice in September of last year, and you answered my question in a blog post in the same month. I signed myself then as "Trying to Be My Own Fairy Godmother." Your answering blog post was titled "To Thine Own Self Be True." I'd like to share with you what has happened since then.

Only a few weeks after your answering blog post, I ran into someone I had met at a party a couple months previously. To make a long story short, this began a three month period of playing games. My parents heard about him, and recognized quite a few red flags. They were furious. I was praying for answers and sick of feeling played. I received an impression that I needed to spend some time with other guys and get some perspective.

There was a boy at work that had been my "unattainable crush." Around this time, I found out he was newly single. I decided to take the advice of Zack Oates and give him an opening to ask me out. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey, random question.

Him: Yes?

Me: Have you been to the new museum exhibit? I was thinking about going and wondered if you knew if it was any good.

Him: I would love to go with you!

Me: !!! Awkward mumbling, blushing, somehow set a time and escape.

So I accidentally asked the cute guy at work out. The only time I'd ever asked a boy out for a non-ladies choice event. I was ready to paint my name on a cone of shame and live there for the rest of forever. I asked my dad if he knew of any Mormon convents. He did not have any comforting advice. I thought about cancelling out of sheer embarrassment but went on the date anyway. He asked me out four days later, which happened to be Valentines Day. We were dating exclusively a week later. We are now engaged and getting married in September.

When I wrote into the Anti Austen blog, I was in a two year dating rut of crushing on unattainable men and not wanting to date the men who liked me. I was starting to think that my standards were unrealistic but didn't want to lower them. I'm marrying a man who is everything I've ever wanted and more and loves me to boot.

As far as dating advice, I'm not sure what I did right, and no one really wants dating advice from engaged people anyway. I have been determinedly true to myself, but I've also done some things that were out of character (asking a guy out) and had to bend along the way. I didn't "never give up," but I never did find that Mormon convent.

Oh well. Like I said, no one wants dating advice from an engaged person. I just wanted to say thank you to Blue Stocking for the encouragement. That post was the reassurance I needed to keep being me.

And my fiance? I'm the first blonde he's ever dated.

Sincerely,

A Grateful Reader

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The Lady--Ever-Observant

11/09/2013 The Lady 1 Comments

Grad school has a tendency to make dating complicated. If it wasn't already difficult to be interested in any of the boys here, they tend to think that I am much older than I am simply because I am in grad school. Hip-hip-hooray. When men here discover my real age {a mere 23 years}, they act as though they were finding out for the first time that Santa Clause is not real. What?! And maybe grad school is intimidating to men, especially those who have only been home from their missions for little over a year {or less}. Be that as it may, I am not terribly bothered {at the moment} and am content to watch the dating mayhem that occurs in singles wards.

For example, my roommate, Mary, has become curiously attracted to a man whom I refer to as The Bearded Hobbit {only in my own mind of course}. The only reason I can imagine she likes him is because he is close to the same age as herself {singles even over 25 are in short supply here}. Every conversation I've had with him has been terribly dull. Terribly. And as his pseudonym may imply, he is also terribly short, which isn't a bad trait at all except for the fact that my roommate is not terribly short. But as it so often goes, several girls find him attractive . . . somehow. Now Mary finds herself battling for The Bearded Hobbit's affections against an over-zealous nineteen-year-old. Chances are the nineteen-year-old will win because when it comes down to it, the younger girl always wins.

Tune in next week for more of "Mary vs. the Nineteen-Year-Old".

Con Amor,

The Lady

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Who's your inner Jane Austen?

10/25/2013 The Lady 7 Comments

According to this "very credible" quiz, my inner Jane Austen heroine is MARIANNE DASHWOOD.
And really are we surprised at all?

"Can he love her? Can the soul really be satisfied with such polite affections? To love is to burn--to be on fire, like Juliet or Guinevere or Eloise."

Who is your Jane Austen twin?

Con Amor,
The Lady

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Hypothetically speaking.

10/18/2013 The Lady 1 Comments

“You will allow...that man has the advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal..." -Northanger Abbey

Every so often, a charming man will step into your life. Perhaps you will have the same office hours, and he will make it a point to stop by and talk to you despite how much work he might have to do. And you will so wholeheartedly love these conversations that you will momentarily forget about all the work you have to do. And maybe when he makes jokes in class (which he will do often), he will look your way to see if you're laughing too (which you will be). It could be that he will call you by your last name which makes you feel like he really knows you and that the two of you could be a detective team or something of that sort. You might come to find that this man is the best person you know in this new and wild town where you live, and you'll love every chance you have to talk to him.

But as the case so often goes, there will more than likely be a snag in your friendship/relationship with this man. The case may be that he's not a member, and no matter if he joins the Church or not, you know that nothing will ever come of it. Because it's just one of those things that you know.

And maybe there will be another man, who is a member and who you were previously interested in, but you quite recently made a firm decision against the crush for sanity's sake. And maybe somehow now that you've decided against liking him, he might be beginning to pay attention to you. He may be brushing aside the other girls who normally swarm about him, but now you couldn't care less.

There may be times when nothing happens with the timing you would like.

Con Amor,

The Lady

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Out with the Old?

10/13/2013 The Lady 1 Comments

“A good-looking girl, with an affectionate heart and a very ignorant mind, cannot fail of attracting a clever young man, unless circumstances are very untoward.” -Northanger Abbey

As I sat and listened to The Girth's Sunday School lesson today, I quickly came to realize that The Girth could possibly be the farthest thing I could want in a husband. Or a boyfriend. Or even a fling. The Girth, though wonderfully girthy, is also quite . . . there is no way to put this delicately: thick. And I mean it in the best way possible. I think? I am sure he is a skilled accounting student (or whatever), but my word, it seemed as though every word that came out of his mouth could somehow be an insult to someone in the room. It was one of the most uncomfortable Sunday School lessons I have ever had to sit through.

It all has been very untoward.

Perhaps my problem is that I compare every man I meet with other men, other BYU men, other men such as Clive. Okay, not even other men. Just Clive. Clive has become the standard I hold every man to, and I am not sure it is the best thing to be doing. It's just every time I talk to Clive (which occurs every so often), I am reminded of why I liked him so much. We have the same interests, the same passions, he is ambitious, good and kind, and has such a good sense of humor. He is everything I could ever want. Everyone else just seems so sub par.

This may be an issue.

Con Amor,

The Lady

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One of the Crowd

9/20/2013 The Lady 2 Comments

“She just needed to screw her head on straight so that she could properly enjoy being young and female and as beautiful as she wanted to be.” -Austenland

I may have mentioned this before. I may have mentioned it one hundred times. I may have to mention one hundred times more. This place is not Provo. Provo is a literal buffet of attractive men. They were everywhere. One could not safely cross campus without catching sight of at least one heart-stopping sort of man. Here, however, a great deal of "weeding out" must be done and the men who would have been the average schmoes in Provo are now the hotshots here.

I happen to like average schmoes. Ever so much. Even amongst all the slick, gym-frequenting dapper Dans of Provo, I always went for the average guys. The one's who were easy to talk to, funny, and somewhat ruddy-faced. The average guys felt real and made me feel real, and I never had to combat the hordes of girls who were vying for the attention of all the other men.

But here, the hordes attack the average guys, and I never was the sort who had any desire to play a part in that madness. It is feasible that it is vanity to want to be a girl pursued rather than a pursuing sort of girl. But it is what it is.

Let's get to the point.

The Girth always has the a congregation of girls about him. They interrupt him while he studies (while I'm sitting strategically nearby) and sneak up on him from behind with awkwardly intimate hugs. Blech. I refuse to participate in that sort of tom-foolery.

Anyway, there have only been a few exchanges between The Girth and myself: a high-five, he stared at my bum once (thank you high heels), and we nearly sat next to each other in institute. Unfortunately, the last encounter was ruined by one of his many admirers. I got to our institute class before he did, but when he arrived, there was a multitude of empty seats. But, he hesitated behind me and asked if he could sit at my table, although he left a seat between us, using a recent cold as an excuse to keep some distance. I was about to turn to him and engage in some light conversation when this blonde piece came and sat between us, and then he was bombarded by another two or three girls with giggles and sympathy for his cold.

And once again, I said nary a word.

Con Amor,

The Lady

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The Lady in a New Land

9/06/2013 The Lady 5 Comments

“From pride, ignorance, or fashion, our foes are almost as many as our readers.” -Northanger Abbey

I had been determined to avoid posting until I had something at least relatively juicy to offer your feasting lips, but I must admit that what we are dealing with are the bare bones. My fixedness on this point derives from the following experience:

Months ago, {while still at my lovely Brigham Young University}, I overheard two young, single women talking about Jane Austen. Of course their topic piqued by interest and I invited my ears into their conversation {eavesdropping can be a wonderful thing}. After discussing their favorite of dear Jane's novels, heroines, men, et cetera, one of them asked the other, "Have you ever heard of The Anti-Austen?" Attempting to disguise my look of pure giddiness as well as the fact that I was even listening, the one began to describe the blog {this blog!} to the other. The description was fair enough {girls who love Jane Austen talking about their dating experiences at BYU}, but what caught me off-guard was this girl's disclaimer:

"It's a good blog, but I wish that the girls who write it would stop complaining. We get that you're not having any luck with dating!"

My giddy mood turned instantly sour.

You, yourself, may ask, "What is the point of a dating blog if none of you are dating?" My rebuttal is that more often than not, the dating scene is about what we lack rather than what we have. We at The Anti-Austen experience bad dates {sometimes extremely bad dates}, we go on mediocre dates, we go on good dates, and sometimes we go on no dates at all. The very title of our blog denotes that we are lacking. The Anti-Austen. Lacking in that which is most loved about Jane Austen novels: the triumph of a heroine loved by her ideal male counterpart.

So I am sorry to say that I, at least, am here to stay. {Granted I can attempt to exclaim "Why me?!?!" less often...} Despite my lack of dating, or maybe because of my lack of dating. One never know how long this may last, I could be blogging until my crazy cat-lady days. However, I will be the Anti-Cat Lady because of my allergies. Perhaps I will garden excessively.

Con Amor,

The Lady

P.S. There are at least two men I have my eye on currently. One of them is a graduate student in history {I've learned this tidbit through talk about the institute, not through actual person to person communication}. The other I call "The Girth" in my mind because he sat in front of me at church and in my institute class and I could not see the teacher for the extraordinary girth of his shoulders. Be still my beating heart.

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“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”

8/25/2013 The Blue Stocking 3 Comments

For the past three years I have an ongoing tradition where I spend a portion of my Saturdays wandering through old bookstores in pursuit of my next great find.

This Saturday, like so many before it, found me entering yet another musty bookstore.

In this particular bookstore I have a strict regimen for finding books. First comes the collectibles then I make my way through young adult to adult and I end the day by thoroughly searching the poetry/Shakespeare section.

While perusing the collectibles I sensed a male standing nearby. He said nothing so naturally I ignored his presence. I went on through the different sections until I had a stack of gems ready to come home with me. I made my way to the register and played with the counter-top doodads barely acknowledging my cashier beyond the obligatory hello.

“Did you find any old books.” I looked up. It took me a moment to register the question and realize this must have been the guy standing next to me when I first came in.

“No, not today.”

“Do you like Harry Potter?”

“Of course I do.”

“Oh thank goodness I don’t get how people don’t love it.”

"Me either! I’ve met so many guys who won’t even read it."

He laughed, "doesn’t it make you want to just stop talking to them?"

"Yes! Yes it does.” Now he had my full attention and I really looked at him. How in the world his attractiveness didn’t ding on my handsometer floors me, but I was finally paying attention.

He went on to talk about how he gets first claim on the books coming in and he recently found and bought a first edition of the British version of Harry Potter and he was tempted to get a $400 version of Huckleberry Finn.

At this point I must have been either mesmerized or stupid, but I said “oh, that’s awesome” and I walked away.

What?

By the time I made it to my car I realized what a fool I was. Why didn’t I say more?! He was clearly being friendly. I could have been bold and slipped him my number, or said something clever, or said anything at all!

The moment has most likely passed, but you can bet I’m going to do everything I can to create another one. I guess I know where I’ll be next Saturday.

-The Bluestocking