Detective Work

7/31/2012 The Charmer 2 Comments

Dear anonymous nice-note giver in Mr. Director's ward,

Well. I suppose we've been found out.
Someone's clever. ;)

(Or someone found out about my mission call and put two and two together.)

Either way, nice detective work. I commend you.

And the look on his face when he opened this note on Sunday was absolutely priceless. We wracked our brains trying to figure out who you might be.

xoxo,
the charmer

PS- Went mission shopping today! It's finally starting to feel more real...which is a good thing, since I report to the MTC in less than a month!

PPS- Fans of Mr. Director: I do love the kid, but I'm pretty set on going on the mish. So don't get your hopes up about him stopping me. :)

My Date with Mr. Lowe

7/29/2012 The Romantic 1 Comments

I may have written my last post under the influence of pain medication. Please don't judge.

But I am here now, medication free (for however long that lasts), wanting to tell the story of my date with Mr. Lowe. Here it goes.

I suppose in my young life time, I have been known, once or twice (read, all the time), to freak out about things.

As I lay in bed the night before my big date with Mr. Lowe, contemplating every possible little thing that could go wrong, it suddenly hit me.

The door step scene. What if he hugged me!? What if he HUGGED ME!?!?! The memory of the last time I hugged an attractive man re-played over and over in my head. And with Mr. Lowe, I would be on crutches. Certainly my awkward post-mission disposition around men coupled with my current crippled status would be a recipe for a disaster of epic proportions.

I immediately texted an old room mate and informed her of the situation. She assured me that all would be well and that a one armed hug would be perfectly appropriate in my current circumstances.

Relieved, I finally fell asleep, only to spend the next day in a tizzy of emotions. I had nothing to wear. Nothing. Most of my non-missionary clothes are in storage in Utah. And unless i wanted to squeeze into my 9 year old sister's clothes (maybe my thigh could fit into one of her shirts) I was stuck wearing a skirt.

I felt overly dressed for ice cream.

At 6, he picked me up. The plan was to go to the arcade, and then ice cream.

I pretty much lost every game we played together. But, let's be honest, it was to be expected. I'm no good at arcade games. But the less than 50% score I got when we played guitar hero was a little embarrassing.

I was a little surprised at how touchy he was. Not soon after he picked me up, he touched my knee playfully. And my arms and shoulders from time to time. And so on and so forth.

On the way to ice cream, he handed me his iphone to navigate. Apparently my 80 year old woman status is not just limited to my hip, but my inability to use new technological devices as well. I had us driving the wrong way for a good 20 minutes. When we finally figured it out, he pulled over to the side of the road and just ruffled my hair playfully. I think normally that would have bothered me, but when he did it, I just melted in my seat a little.

When it finally came time to drop me off, I was a nervous wreck. My crutches made everything infinitely more awkward. I felt comfortable enough to hug him, but those darn crutches! My front porch has several steps leading up to the door. I reached the top step, and turned around to give him a hug. He was on the step below me. He smelled really nice! I thought the hug went well, until I thought about it later..... His face may have potentially been smashed right against my ...erm... well, bosoms... Like a hug from your great aunt Myrtle. He never said anything. So maybe his face went more towards my neck. But the proportions of my front steps are just so....

Anywho, an after date text was sent. He responded by saying we'd do something again when after I'm done convalescing! So that's a good sign right?!

I don't know what's happened to me dear readers! I used to be confident! I was the girl who asked for a guy's number while sitting in traffic on the freeway! I used to get numbers at birthday parties like nobody's business! I used to get asked out by simply being a writer on this very website! I used to be a dating guru! But now, I'm a nervous wreck most of the time. 

Despite reassurances from several of my friends (and even my stake president) that Mr. Lowe would be lucky to date me, I'm just a frazzled mess. 

I hope things will return to normal once I had back to Provo. Hopefully I can find a place to live....

xoxo
-the romantic

Matrimony was her object, provided she could marry well.

7/27/2012 The Lady 1 Comments

As is to be expected, the unexpected has occurred. While over the greater course of this summer, I have been somewhat aloof towards men (because of Dex and whatnot), however, I could not remain so for very long. My affection for the opposite sex has returned with a vengeance. Though this is not what was unexpected, some recent occurrences are certainly not what I imagined.


Currently, there are four men with whom I am deeply enamored.

Tangent:
I often wish I was the sort of girl who could have one crush. One of my dearest friends has this ability. If she has a crush on a guy, she is fiercely loyal to them in both body and mind. As for myself, I cannot stand to only have one crush. It makes me feel vulnerable. It's easier for me to like several so that when one plainly doesn't like me back, there are others to take his place. It saves me a lot of trouble. But at the same time, it makes things difficult because I can never decide who to give most of my attention to. I also usually like each man for completely different reasons, so it makes it quite to difficult to compare them to each other. It would just be so much easier if I could combine all their great qualities into one ultimate man. Or maybe marry them all. Polyandry just might be my answer. Just joking! Maybe...

Segue:
As I was saying, there are four men:

1. Colonel Brandon [whom I addressed two weeks ago].
2. Lord Byron [named purely for his poetic abilities and features, he is most unlike Lord Byron in other respects...]
3. Clive [Again].
4. Mr. Rival [Again. Again].

My topic today is: Mr. Rival

Where to begin?

Ah, first, I will address the issue of Mr. Rival's sister being a reader of this blog. Miss Rival unfortunately knows of my true identity (it's not hard to find out I'm afraid), but has graciously promised to keep it a secret from her brother. Yes? Yes. I also apologize to Miss Rival for any weird/confused feelings expressed with regards to your brother. You are a doll, and I am grateful for your cooperation and friendship.

Now I will address the issue of Mr. Rival. It is indeed an issue.

Though Mr. Rival began dating Miss Fairfax almost a year ago, we would still text each other less than frequently to catch up or exchange tidbits about new music we had discovered. (Such as Hey Marseilles!) But then around May or so, Mr. Rival began to text me more frequently. I, however, attempted to remain distant as I avoid fraternizing with men who have girlfriends (as a general rule). I had told Mr. Rival that I would be around when I went to visit my sister (in mad pursuit of Dex) and Mr. Rival decided that we should hang out as we hadn't seen each other for three years. Luckily, I narrowly escaped such a meeting as both Mr. Rival and I failed to communicate with each other the entire time I was in the vicinity. We're both exceptional at such things. I then proceeded to spend a week with my family in the mountains, only to return to Facebook to a change in relationship status. Mr. Rival and Miss Fairfax had broken up. I had been certain that they would be married. They had been dating for a lengthy amount of time (by LDS standards), and no one would have thought it strange if they had married. In fact, I think more people found it odd that they broke up. Such as myself.

At the sight of such news, hope surged within me. An interesting turn of events indeed. My happiness at the fact that Mr. Rival was no longer dating Miss Fairfax was pure wickedness. Oh, well. Within an instant, I was texting Mr. Rival about frivolous things, and ever since then, we have been texting each other almost every day. We have yet to see each other and I doubt whether we will until Christmas (by which time he is sure to be dating someone else again). But it's nice to have him back in my life even if the two of us are confused by it all. We've admitted to each other that we thought that we would have dated once he came home from his mission, but timing has a way taking you in a different direction. But it's just as well. I remain in a state of confusion as to whether I actually like him or whether I like the attention. He is a wonderful human being and an even better friend, and who I am to say what will happen in the future?

Frankly, I am not convinced that he is anyone other than Mr. Churchill, and besides that, I am still a coquette. I make no promises, nor can I make promises. Dating is still just a game to me. Someday I will have to start playing this game for keeps, but today is not that day.

Con Amor,
The Lady

P.S. Happy Olympics!

what? freak out? me? no way

7/26/2012 The Romantic 3 Comments

i consider this news so very important that i am blogging from a phone. a phone. i wish that i could do exclamation points to show you how excited i am, but the aforementioned smart phone isnt letting me. it wont let me do apostraphes either.... well my dear readers, surgery went well. in a year, they will see if i need more surgery. it all just depends on my shallow hip socket...i am turning into an eighty year old woman... no big.
anywho, mr. lowe has been texting me throughout  my convalesence. the percoset hasnt hindered me too much.... except for when i told him in korean that he looked very cuddley... lucky for me, theres no real way to look up romanized korean korean words... phew
but heres the best part, we are finally going on our date thats been in the works for like three weeks. this is where i would type a thousand exclamation points if i could.
so here it  is. my first date post mission.... i am only freaking out a little , ok a lot.
wish me luck, exclamation point goes here....
xoxo
the romantic

One of the guys

7/25/2012 The Closer 7 Comments

Well, it's been about two weeks since my date with Mijo, and I think I am safe to say that we are going to stay in the friend zone, and this is a good thing. Ten inches of a height difference would be a lot to reconcile, and no need to worry about that unless it's necessary. Besides, if I'm going to bite the bullet and date a shorter man, I am pretty sure I would want it to be Mr. Manager.

Mijo, Mr. Manager, and Lance (newly introduced), are three of my closest male friends. They are also all considerably shorter than me (more than six inches). One of my favorite/least favorite things about being so tall, is that it makes friendships with short men so easy, and I end up with some great pals. Out of these three, I spend the most time with Lance. He is the social butterfly of the three, he always has something going on... and he also has the most attractive roommates (wink-wink). I am with Lance (usually accompanied by a roommate or four) at least once a week. Sometimes we're all hanging out watching So You Think You Can Dance, other times we're getting drinks at Sonic, and still other times we're throwing around a football.

There is one roommate in particular, Rex, who I have a bit of a crush on. It's the kind of crush that you are not sure what you want to happen with, but it's fun because you always get a little bit excited when you see them. It is probably a good thing that I'm not sure what I want with him, because I think I am very close to turning into/already "one of the guys". To illlustrate my point, here are some things that have happened while I have been present with Lance and the roomies:

• Farting (albeit minimal)
• Talking about "hot chicks"
• Phone calls to girls they want to "get with"
• Every guy playing on his smartphone at the same time

A Blurb

7/18/2012 The Charmer 5 Comments

The Charmer will not be delivering her regularly scheduled post this week because she is again chasing around teenage girls during her fourth consecutive week of being a camp counselor.

xoxo
t.c.

PS- She is also very, very tired. Additionally, she is coming to the realization that she will probably be very tired for the rest of the summer...and for the next 18 months...and most likely for the rest of her life. After 6 straight weeks of summer camps she will have one week to play (On the schedule: LAGOOOON! And Logan/Ogden adventures!), say goodbye to her 2 best friends, and drive home; and then she'll have two weeks to recuperate before heading back to Provo to enter the MTC. Yikes.

PPS- Mr. Director is threatening to stop her.

A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.

7/13/2012 The Lady 14 Comments

My Dear Readers and Friends,
I beg to ask the question: How old is too old? I myself, would usually draw the line at a five-year age difference between a guy and a girl. Beyond that I would normally feel the gap to be too wide. Beyond that you can barely connect in conversations about your childhood because while he grew up with Fraggle Rock and Full House, you grew up half a decade later with Boy Meets World and Dexter's Laboratory. And then your conversations start to go like this: "Remember in high school when 9-11 happened?" And you reply, "Well yeah, but I was still in middle school..." It just makes everybody feel weird.

But isn't there room for negotiation?

I cannot believe I am saying this, but I hope so...You see, there is this man I work with, and I am so very smitten with him. He is Colonel Brandon in the flesh. For all intents and purposes, he shall be called Colonel Brandon.

You see Colonel Brandon is the very essence of goodness, he is easy to talk to, he is so very amusing, he already has a good (very good) career, and good heavens, he is so attractive. There is only one problem: Colonel Brandon is twelve years older than myself. That means that I was only in the beginning years of elementary school when he was graduating high school. Something about it all seems very illegal. But he is so great, and all the signs point to his attraction to me.

However, every time I think about what it would be like to date the Colonel, something goes horribly awry. Such as: he is older than most of my siblings, and if he were ever to hang out with my friends and I, he would undoubtedly find us insipid and childish. Probably for the fact that we were just children not many years ago. Blast it all Colonel Brandon! It worked for Marianne, why not myself?

When I told The Bluestocking about Colonel Brandon she was appalled and promptly drew the line at a six-year age difference. Absolutely no more. But what's wrong with wanting to marry someone who already has a good income and means to provide for a wife and family?

Despite my doubts and The Bluestocking's wise(?) insistence, I want to go up to him and simply say: "Hey, you're twelve years older than me, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me, maybe?"

3rd times a charm?

7/12/2012 The Romantic 1 Comments

When I last left you, my dear dear readers, I was on the edge of precipice staring downward into a dark abyss of a nervous breakdown!

Ok... not really. But I was "freaking out" as you kids say now-a-days. I had a stalker (of sorts) on my hands. And I wasn't quite sure the correct course of action to take. At the end of my last post, I was debating whether or not I should give the poor fellow a call back. Well, I ended up returning his call. During the call, he asked me out. I acquiesced. The phone call wasn't all bad. We talked freely and easily. I was very surprised. Our upcoming date couldn't be as bad as all that.
But the next morning, the obsessive texts started again. Poor Mr. E wouldn't stop! Fortunately, I was saved from our date by a surprise call from efy. Mr. E was hired to work as a counselor in Utah! Huzzah's and hurrah's erupted from my soul in the highest of forms! Because our date was postponed, Mr. E insisted in a text that we write each other letters of affection while he counsels little children two states over.

I politely declined.

The next morning he was at it again; texting me before I had even lifted my sleeping head for my pillow. I decided it was time to go for the brutally honest route. The following is an exact quote of the text message I sent the poor fellow:

"Mr. E,  I need to be honest about something.
The amount you text me is a lot. Overwhelmingly so...
It's just a little too intense for me..."

He replied with a very cordial response and wished me luck as I journeyed to the remote reaches of the Sierra Nevadas to attend girl's camp with my home stake.

Every night at camp, I slept in fear; terrified of a bear attack.(I'm going to give this next sentence a PG-13 rating, so brace yourselves) I didn't want to die a virgin; a fact I proclaimed to my fellow leaders one night when a bear was especially close to camp. My fears proved to be unfounded because, as you can now read, I am alive and well, and in one piece, with only one stalker text upon my return home.

And now, if you've journeyed through this post with me thus far, I'll reward you with a confession dear readers. I've been harboring a not-so-secret crush (if it can be qualified as much at this stage, I might even call it a crinkle right now) on a fellow efy counselor who just happens to be from my home stake. We'll call him Mr. Lowe. Since Mr. Lowe has been working every week since we first re-acquainted ourselves with each other(he just returned recently from a mission as well), the only interaction we've had is over facebook. At camp, my stake president promised he'd give me "the hook-up". (Wherever would I be without my fearless priesthood leaders?)
When I returned from camp, I had an invitation from him to go out for a bit of ice cream on my facebook wall. I replied in a comment with my number.... I'm trying very hard, and with much difficulty, to not over-analyze every text message since then.

I think Mr. E must've seen my facebook interactions with Mr. Lowe because his text messages and facebook chats have all together stopped. How convenient is that?

And now, I fear it is time for my to bid you adieu dear readers. I'm having surgery next week. I know not when I shall return to this dear blog. If it be soon, I can promise a heavily drug induced and hilarious post. I've already written my last will and testament (for realz). If I die, then I'll grant you the gift of my true identity... But that's only if I die.

xoxo
-the Romantic

To Stay or Not to Stay... in the friend zone

7/11/2012 The Closer 5 Comments

Something unexpected happened to me this past week.

Last Thursday night I was driving home and got a phone call from Mijo, who I have mentioned just once before. He and I are great friends, and being great friends has always been easy, because there is a 10 inch height difference. I am 10 inches taller than him.

You may already be able to tell this is going, but I shall proceed regardless. I see his name on the caller ID and I am glad that he is calling. He and I always have fun chats, and I figure he's calling to say hello or tell me a funny story. We chit chat for the first ten or so minutes of the call, and then he pauses and says "I was actually calling to ask you on a date for this Saturday." This caught me completely off guard and I sputtered "Wait... Really?" without even thinking about it. I'm sure that was kind to his ego. He laughed and replied that he was indeed serious, and I agreed to a date.

After I hung up the phone I had a few thoughts. I think I was first impressed that he wasn't letting a silly thing like a [big] height difference keep him from asking me out. Next I was curious- Has he been interested in me all along and is finally acting on it? Did he decide that if we get along so well we might as well try dating? Is he just trying to show me that shorter men can see me as a woman too? (He knows about Mr. Manager's "If you were a girl" comment.) After a few minutes of my brain buzzing with unanswered questions, I issued a cease-and-desist order on all of that, and just decided to go and have fun.

And have fun I did. I had more fun on this date than I have on a first date in a very long time. Every time we were sitting and talking and laughing, I was having a great time. And then it would be time to stand up again, and I would be reminded that I have to stoop down to keep conversation going. That is a weird feeling.

You know how sometimes you are with a guy and you can imagine how nice it would be if he put his arm around you? Try as I might, even imaginary cuddling is awkward with Mijo.

What I am wrestling with now, is what if he asks me out again? It doesn't seem incredibly likely, but do I keep trying? Also, if he doesn't ask me out, how long of him not asking me out qualifies me to be able to talk to him about my love life again? Turns out, it's hard to talk to your date about the other guys you want to be dating. Do I want my friend back? Or am I not giving my friend the potential he deserves?

Yours Truly,

The Closer

Big News.

7/10/2012 The Charmer 5 Comments

After a two-week hiatus, I'm BACK with a bit of exciting news.

As you know, I've been expecting one of those big white envelopes from Salt Lake! I was hoping it would show up before I left Provo, but it didn't. Bummer. So I headed out of state to do a couple sessions of EFY and figured I'd just wait to open it until I got back to Provo.

My family had other plans, however, and since my EFY sessions were in my home state, the fam really wanted my call forwarded up so that they could be there when I opened it. I figured this was probably a better idea, seeing as I'm the oldest child and so this was kind of a big deal for my parents.

So, Wednesday (mission call day!) arrives and I ask Mr. Director to check my mailbox. He goes to my house, but all of my roommates are also out of town and won't be back until Sunday. SUNDAY?! Gah. So I resign myself to just having to wait.

Anyways, I get a text right before Pizza Night from Mr. Director. The text says, "I may or may not have just broken into your house through your bedroom window."
I shook my head. Silly boy.
The next text, a minute later, said, "And I may or may not have stolen your mail key..."
Clearly, the boy was lying.
The next text said, "And I may or may not be holding something you've been waiting for!"

Obviously, I didn't believe him. I called him and called his bluff. He insisted that he really had broken into my house, grabbed my mail key, and gotten into my mailbox. I still refused to believe him! I mean, come on! But then when he began detailing the things that he had seen in my bedroom, including specific pictures that were on my dresser....
...I started to believe him.

But I still demanded a picture of the call. Just to be certain.

And he sent it. Mr. Director did indeed have my mission call in hand.

And the rest is history! He forwarded it up to my family and I opened it on Saturday night on my way back down to Provo. So....the verdict it....

....I've been called to the Fort Lauderdale, Florida mission!

I'm speaking English, which I was a (tad) disappointed about, but whatever. I'm good at English. And besides, there are so many languages going on in South Florida (Miami, anyone?) that I'm sure to pick up some phrases here and there in Spanish, Creole, etc.

I'm reporting to the MTC on August 29...which means I will have approximately 2 weeks at home after I finish everything up here in Provo before heading back to Provo to go into the MTC. So it's pretty fast! But I'm not complaining. I didn't want to sit around waiting for a few months. :)

Anyways....there ya go. Come September I'll be one hot tamale. Oh, humidity, here I come!

Kisses,
The Charmer

The Three Point Rule

7/08/2012 The Blue Stocking 6 Comments

I  hate when people say that dating is all a game. I just hate that we've turned love into this pathetic power struggle and the winner wins what exactly? Someone that they had to trick into liking them?

But then I got to BYU and I discovered that knowing the rules to the game is just as essential to playing the game. Knowing the game doesn't mean you have to become this conniving vixen bent on destroying any girl who stands between her and a Friday night date with the ward crush. Instead, knowing the game will save you from feeling foolish, overeating, and turning your tear-ducts into the Sahara desert.

A guy friend showed me this little gem last week, and I can't help but feel there is a lot of truth to it.



So what do you think of the three point rule?

-The Blue Stocking

My mother is Mrs. Bennet in the flesh.

7/06/2012 The Lady 7 Comments

Two Christmases ago was the first time I encountered my mother's incurable desire for me to "tie the knot". After many hours driving through the frozen tundra, I finally arrived safely home and was welcomed into the loving arms of my parents and my childhood home that is always laced with the smell of warm bread. Oh, it was to be such a happy Christmas. I had just survived a beast of a semester and was more than happy to be home for two glorious weeks of holiday frivolity. Late that night as I knelt with my family in prayer, my mother {who was offering the prayer} asked specifically that I would be blessed to find my husband soon. My eyes snapped open in shock. Was my sorry ability at snagging a husband already so desperate that it had to be prayed over in front of my whole family? Apparently so. Also during the holiday, my sister let it slip that my mother had been submitting my name to the prayer roll at the temple every week in hopes that the extra help would provide me with a husband.

My first reaction was to be angry. Then I became worried. Was I actually in danger of spinsterhood? It certainly seemed that way. At that time I had not dated anyone for over a year and I had no promising prospects to speak of, so all the signs were pointing towards my mother's greatest fear. I was going to be a spinster.

Now, over two years later, my mother's fear has not lessened. If anything it has increased. While I was away visiting at my sister's and where I was to face my fate with Dex, my sister and mother would converse often over the phone. My mother being the woman she is, told my sister to persuade me to extend the length of my visit with the hope that some great matrimonial ending would occur between Dex and myself {or perhaps any other willing candidate}. I did not do that though, knowing well that all was over. It was a great disappointment to my mother and to the rest of my pro-Lady-and-marriage family.

When I do go on dates or fancy getting close to a relationship with any gentleman, I do everything I can to avoid telling my mother about it. There's something about the word "date" that sends her into a frenzy of unnecessary questions. In my mother's mind, people don't simply go on dates for fun, there must be a motive behind it. If I let it slip that I went on a date, she begins an interrogation of who he is, where he is from, where he served his mission, about his family, his education, background, etc. Nothing has come of it though. It gives her such flutterings and spasms. Poor Mumsie.

Although the great thing about having a mother like Mrs. Bennet is that you know that she sincerely cares. She is only concerned for my future welfare, and I suppose I would rather have an over-enthusiastic mother than one who does not care at all. In true Mrs. Bennet fashion, "the business of her life [is] to get her daughters married." (Pride & Prejudice). I am strongly considering not telling her that I'm dating anyone until there is a ring on my finger. When {and if} I start dating someone that is...


Con Amor,
The Lady

"Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love"

7/02/2012 The Blue Stocking 3 Comments

C'est la vie

-The Blue Stocking