Zipties and Introductions

3/31/2014 The Blue Stocking 1 Comments

On Friday I went to a YSA activity with a group of friends that included Calvin. Why not hang out with the guy you used to date. It’s not like it makes things confusing and awkward. Oh wait, it does.

We got to the combined activity where we realized we would have to split up and sit guy girl guy girl. Of course. I took my place at the end of the table and Calvin decided to sit by me. They served us our food, a gesture I appreciated until they came back with zip-ties.

Now ask yourself, why would any YSA activity require zip-ties? Aren’t those exclusively used for muggings? Well something was taken from me: my dignity. See the zipties were used to bind our hands to the guy on either side of us. Apparently that was a “neat” way for us to break the ice. I don’t know why they assume I want the ice around me broken. I find it comforting.

And to top the night off some chump decided to start throwing food at everyone which would have been easy to dodge IF I weren’t ziptied to a chain of people.

Now I didn’t recount this most unfortunate instance just to show you how crazed our culture is in getting married. No I told it to you because I met a guy there.

Remember the FHE of months gone by when I talked literature with a group of attractive guys? Well one of those guys, James, sat across from me and as the food flew around us we got to talking. And talking turned to laughing and soon we were unchained and standing in an almost empty cultural hall still visiting.

Now the night didn’t end with an exchanging of numbers, instead he took my blog address. My personal blog. The blog filled with ridiculous stories from my ridiculous life. I don’t know why I find myself hoping he doesn’t read it.

-The Bluestocking

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Needing vs. Getting

3/28/2014 The Lady 3 Comments

My "relationship" with The Artist has been nothing but bewilderment, confusion, and feebleness. Some might call it turmoil, but considering the circumstances, that is most decidedly a gross exaggeration. After spending a week or more constantly texting each other in an attempt to distinguish whether we actually did want to move forward into an "real" relationship, we called it quits.

How the sitch (situation) went down:

I began to realize that I inwardly groaned every time I received a text from The Artist. I knew I would have to (yet again) clarify something that I had said or point out that I had attempted to make a joke. He did not understand me. My responses were made begrudgingly. I also felt as though The Artist was continually berating me, scolding me, lecturing me in the hopes that I would become a better person than I currently am.

It took me much too long to deduce that I was unhappy, that this was not what I wanted out of a relationship or a potential marriage.

Me: Artist, you're not necessarily as interested in me, The Lady, as you are in the idea of dating/marriage. Marriage is your goal, and that's fine, but it doesn't necessarily include me.

The Aritist: I understand and I agree with you.

. . .

Painless. It was painless. It was painful how painless it was. How could something be so mechanical? So lifeless? Is it terrible to wish that perhaps there had been a little pain? Not that I wanted to inflict pain on The Artist or that I wanted to be hurt myself, but I wanted there to be at least some hint of feeling, that he had at least felt an ounce of regard for me.

What The Lady Needs: To be loved for her own sake. To be treated as though she were the goal, not the process.

What The Lady was Getting: A relationship that made logical sense, but made The Lady feel as though she were simply the vehicle that could get The Artist to his ultimate destination: MARRIAGE.

_______________________________

The date with The Counselor happened at long last, and I am happy to announce that I survived the Ides of March. Whatever that may mean in this context.

The Counselor and I pulled a marathon date. The six-hour variety.

Despite my grumbling and groaning about marathon dates that occurred at BYU, I would not have wished my date with The Counselor to be one minute shorter.

United in a disdain for seafood and a love for Mexican food, The Counselor and I salsaed the night away. And by that I mean we ate chips and salsa like we were the Olympic chips-and-salsa team. Following dinner, The Counselor asked if I would like to take a walk, which of course I did. We had a simply splendid time despite the fact that the weather was blustery and freezing. The only thing I regret was not taking The Counselor's jacket when he offered it. It was truly chivalrous of him, but I was at least wearing a sweater while he had only short sleeves underneath the jacket. I should have taken it to make him feel more needed, but I just didn't want to make him purposely suffer the cold. I never know what to do in those sorts of situations . . . Last but not least, The Counselor asked if it was too late to watch a movie. We settled in at his apartment to watch an episode of Sherlock (truly a man of good taste), and there were so many moments where I could have sworn he was going to hold my hand, but alas it was not to be.

And that was that. In retrospect I simply cannot recall any awkward lulls in conversation, or any time I felt uncomfortable or wished to be home. It was one of the best dates I have been on in a very long time. And yes, I can admit that I am even glad he didn't hold my hand. It's not time, at least not yet. Everything was simply as it should have been.

What The Lady Needs: Laughter and sincerity. To feel comfortable in her own skin when in the company of a gentleman.

What The Lady was Getting: All of the above.

The Lady

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A Lesson in Inter-Cultural Dating

3/27/2014 The Romantic 0 Comments

Last week I kept waiting for the Korean to text me.

I waited and waited and waited and waited.

But Friday night rolled around and nothing. I figured, "To hell with convention! This isn't Provo, I do what I want!" (Sometimes I have a bit of a Willoughby vocabulary when speaking to myself) He texted back and it was all very lovely. But he wanted to make plans for Saturday night. Saturday night happened to be stake conference. And I happened to have told the stake president I would be there. Because it just so happened that a general authority would be coming and as the only foreigner in the stake, I would need to be introduced. And so I said I would call the Korean after my church meeting ended at 8:30 and we could do something then. He agreed and that was that.

Stake conference was particularly delightful, and I would write about all the spiritual enlightenment I received here. But that's not why you came to this blog is it? ;0)

It was late after the meeting finally ended and I had a chance to call.

When he picked up the phone, he asked if I was done with my meeting. I said yes. Then he asked if I had plans.

Too embarrassed to say that I thought we had made plans together, I told him no that I wasn't doing anything at the moment. He said he was on his way home, but then subsequently said he would turn around and meet me at the church. We then went to a fancy little pasta place.

Here's where another problem arose. The Spirit whispered (or my bladder) that I should go to the bathroom at the church before I went out with him. But I ignored the prompting and decided to wait until the restaurant instead. However, the restaurant was housed in a complex of restaurants with a bathroom down a long corridor and did not have an actual bathroom in the establishment. Ever fearful of having to use a squatting toilet, I was delighted to find a room full of stalls. I entered a stall and found no toilet paper. Entering the next, I found the same thing. I repeated this even though I knew what fate had already bestowed upon me. Toilets, toilets everywhere, but not a ply of precious paper in sight. Or an employee to whom I could make a discreet inquiry. Oh, I need to go right now just thinking about it.

Exhausted by the long day I had had, I went home directly after dinner. The evening had been nice. I laughed at his perfect usage of the phrases, "Holy smokes," "Anywho," and "Hollah." There had been that lovely chemistry again, but nothing was quite as magical as the first night. Perhaps I should blame my bladder.

I was rather bold in inviting him to stake conference the next day, although I didn't expect him to show up. The meeting ended, and as I was dragged around the chapel by one of the YW, who do I see standing in the back but the Korean! He had shown up after the closing prayer. I had to leave immediately as a I had another appointment with a member, leaving him at the church surrounded by the missionaries who were more than ready to teach him a lesson. Inadvertently, I think I have been playing a game of 밀당 with him (it means push-pull, and is a huge part of dating in Korean culture.... as I only learned this last week from my students).

The reality is that as much as I've joked with my friends this past week about having a Korean boyfriend, I just don't think I can. The real truth is that I see the Korean as an investigator more than anything else. So although we might spend more time together, don't expect me to give up my citizenship any time soon.

However, I think the members have gotten the wrong idea about me and the Korean. But that post will have to wait until tomorrow.

Until then XOXO,

-the Romantic

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Mrs. Bennet

3/24/2014 The Blue Stocking 2 Comments

The funny thing about hanging out with the bishopric wives is they all want Cali and me to date their sons. No one wants this more than Mrs. Bennet. Guess who her son is, Henry. PLOT TWIST.

Yes the same Mrs. Bennet that forced me to flirt has now set her sights on tiny Blue Henry children. And let me tell you, she’s not subtle. After the night I spent talking with Henry Mrs. B gave me a big hug and said good job.

Now she’s determined to get me to ask Henry to come to institute with me. Why Henry can’t go on his own is a mystery. For the past three weeks every interaction with her has ended in “did you ask Henry yet? He’s right over there, just go ask him,”

She’s even proposed that I tell him to pick me up and drive us over. How does one go about asking that without sounding crazy. What she doesn’t realize is my 7 years in the dating world has made me a master in avoidance. So I’ve been avoiding the whole family. It’s not a permanent solution, but it’s one that’s working as of now.

-The Bluestocking

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On Dating in Korea

3/17/2014 The Romantic 0 Comments

Quite different from most foreigners in Korea, I actually don't have many non-Korean acquaintances. So if ever I have questions about American culture in Korea, I find myself texting the teacher who used to be employed at my school, but who now lives in a city almost two hours away. She's quite feisty and cosmopolitan. Here is the dating advice she gave me yesterday based on the experiences that her friends have had dating Korean men,

"The only difference I've heard remarked on a lot is them taking things really slowly [physically] and kinda quickly commitment wise.... Just don't be shocked if it takes several dates even for a kiss!"

Sounds an awful lot like Provo dating to me. I can do that.

Xoxo
-the Romantic

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Stocking getting Stalked

3/17/2014 The Blue Stocking 6 Comments

Two week ago, I went to church a tad early and took my seat not realizing I was seated directly in front of Smitie and Henry. Remember how they're inseparable cousins. A terrible inconvenience if you ask me. Well Smitie leaned forward and whispered my name so he could tell me I look nice which is sweet I guess. Except for the whispering. That’s not necessary. I don’t care for it.

I turned around and before I could say more than a thank you Henry started asking me about my weekend and of course the conversation took a random turn which left the two of us laughing while Smitie watched from the sidelines.

I feel like this interaction made something snap inside Smitie. And while I’m not entirely sure what was going through his head, I imagined the conversation when something like this:

“Blue’s moving on. I could A. Talk to her and then ask her out ooooor B. Interrupt all of her conversations with other people, makes things thoroughly awkward, and then retreat and try again in 10 minutes. Yeah plan B seems pretty solid.”

And that’s exactly what happened and what’s continued to happen for the past two weeks. What's really strange is he never actually talks to me. He just finds a way to be a part of all my interactions. Some of those ways include back rubs...

I almost wish he would just ask me out again so I could say no and we could go back to the awkward hellos in-between church meetings.

-The Bluestocking

P.S. I was talking with another girl in my ward and apparently Smitie asked out her roommate for ice cream and said "I would take you to dinner, but I don't know if I like you enough to spend that kind of money."
Who says that. It kills me.

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My Life is not a Jane Austen novel, but it might be a Korean drama

3/16/2014 The Romantic 3 Comments

I've been gearing up for the past few weeks to sit down and write about the destitute and miserable loneliness that has been my life this past month in Korea.

Ok, you got me. It hasn't been all that bad. But I ran away to Korea to escape the world of single's wards only to find myself in a country where the first two questions everyone asks you are: 1) how old are you? And 2) do you have a boyfriend? (As if I need reminding about the tick-tick-ticking of my biological clock, and let me check on the boyfriend thing. Hm, yes- just as I thought, answer is still no)

I did venture to Seoul several weeks ago to meet up with some Singles. It was delightful. I went in with no expectation for romance, and came out with new friendships built on intelligent conversation.

And yet...

And yet the couple culture in Korean is so pervasive that I find myself wishing to be a part of one, even with zero (we are talking absolutely zilch) prospects. So I began to fill my time in various ways; one of them being lessons with the sister missionaries.

Last Saturday night, as the sisters and I waited for their investigator to show up, a striking Korean man appeared in the hallway. Immediately I wanted to talk to him because I have been absolutely lonesome for someone my own age to talk to (that doesn't wear a black nametag). Don't misinterpret my true feelings. I love the people here, and I have made a few friends. But I didn't realize how much I truly crave and thrive on having a social life.

But back to the striking Korean man with the thick-rimmed glasses. He seemed to be looking for the Elders, but being unable to find them, he stopped to speak with us in terrifically funny English. Apparently he was an old investigator, just stopping through to see if the Elders happened to be at the church. The four of us spoke for a few minutes until the sisters' investigator arrived, and then it was just him and I. When I explained the current absence of friends in my life, he quickly offered to exchange numbers and then invited me to go with him to meet some friends at a restaurant in the local university district. I explained that I had promised the sisters I would help teach a lesson, but that I would give him a call afterwards. He acquiesced and we parted ways.

What followed seemed to be the longest missionary lesson of my life. I love the sisters in my ward, but when they decided it was a good idea to take turns reading 25 verses from the Book of Mormon in abysmally slow Korean (mostly on my end) after the meat of the lesson was already over, well....I thought I was going to claw my eyes out.

When the lesson was finally over, and at the behest of the sisters, I decided to go and meet The Korean.

What followed was the best and most natural date I've been on since I've been home from my mission. My lesson with the sisters had taken so long that his friends had moved on to another activity. So he waited for me, and we grabbed tea at a local café and just talk (in English). And then we just walked around the city.

And there was chemistry, ACTUAL PHYSICAL CHEMISTRY. As we walked through the busy university district, he kept pace with me, guiding my elbows here and there to make sure I was walking in the right direction. We stopped by a lake on the university campus after tea and just walked the perimeter.

And then we walked to a taxi and he sent me on my merry way home.

For a brief moment, I considered the Provo-bial "after date text" and then I realized that that probably doesn't even exist in Korea. So I didn't worry about it.

When I woke up in the morning, I almost didn't believe that it had actually happened. It had all felt like a scene from a Korean drama. I finally caved and texted him this evening. To which he almost immediately replied to ask me out for dinner.

Before I get a barrage of warnings from the people who know my true identity about the dangers of a non-member romance combined with the Korean/foreigner dynamic, I am fully aware of all the dangers.

But I am 24, single, living in Korea, and a man asked me out on a date. To the heck with everything else. I'm going.

Xoxo
-the Romantic

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The Ides of March

3/15/2014 The Lady 1 Comments

Please join me in a lively rendition of the "Hallelujah Chorus" for The Counselor has finally asked me on an official date. Yes, that's right. I wasn't making things up.

At Thursday's institute class (as with the week previous), there was much "accidental" hand-brushing and leaning in to whisper comments between The Counselor and I. Very childish sort of flirting. Afterwards, The Counselor and I stayed behind to play the piano together. Yes, we are those people. And then he just asked me out to dinner for tonight. Plain and simple.

My only qualm is that today is the Ides of March. For those of you who may need a brief refresher course, today is the anniversary of the day Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 B.C. And Caesar so foolishly ignored the warning of the oracle to "beware the Ides of March," thus resulting in his most gruesome death. Stabbed 23 times. "Et tu Brute?"

Being a somewhat superstitious person, I was not overjoyed that today had to be the day for our date. Wouldn't the 14th of March do just as well? Caesar was flattered into going to the senate because he assumed that he was going to honored for his victories, doesn't this seem like the same sort of situation?

This morning, my sister reminded me that my oldest sister's group of friends from high school used to refer to hand-holding as "life" and kissing as "death." It was the 90s, so I don't really understand...like a dementor's kiss??? Either way, perhaps that will be my untimely end. Kissed 23 times? According to my sister, I would certainly be "good and dead."

But I'm not the sort to jump to conclusions or rush into things...at all.

The Lady

P.S. I have an update about The Artist as well, but

that will just have to wait for another day.