dating

Kissing Poll

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It’s February, there’s the 14th. I’m still trying to decide if I’m one of those people who embrace the obnoxiousness of Valentine’s Day.

Sometimes I keep my eye open during prayers. I may bow my head for the first few seconds during a group supplication, but then I start looking at people and their earnest faces. They’re really intent on listening to the words of the prayer and I’m impressed and inspired by the collective faith of the group.

Now sometimes I open my eyes during kisses.

I’m not comparing prayer to kisses. I’m just saying there are two examples of when I open my eyes when my eyes are supposed to be closed.

As with prayers (still not comparing), I used to keep my eyes closed during kisses. I’m talking about the romantic ones you see on tv and the movies where the people close their eyes for entire seconds before lips meet. And then their eyes stay closed after the kiss is over. And then the people look into each other’s eyes and smile.

I thought that’s how kissing was supposed to be.

Sometimes it’s that way, but then I discovered that I could open my eyes. And that makes it a different experience. It seems that the instant my lids shut my other senses heighten. As if I’m actually blind, and I can hear/taste/smell/feel everything to an exponentially elevated degree. But how would I know that if I didn’t also try kissing with my eyes open?

Granted, it’s nice to close my eyes and let myself get lost in the moment, to enjoy this physical bond that represents deeper emotions and attachments. But there’s something about keeping my eyes open. I like being able to watch Reilly’s closed eyes.

(Sorry, Reilly. [We are generally very against public displays of affection but this blog post seems to contradict that principle. But really, you’ve only seen us kissing in pictures. And at our wedding. And a quick peck when he drops me off for work. {It’s only ever quick pecks when we’re outside our home.} That’s it. And we don’t kiss on BYU campus because we’re having too much fun laughing at the collective slobber-swapping that goes on over there.])

With my eyes open during a kiss, I like being able to see Reilly enjoy the moment, to focus on the kiss itself, to epitomize present-mindedness. There’s something very Zen about kissing. At least the kind of kissing that I’m talking about. It makes me smile. With the smiling, there’s the sensing of the smile. With the sensing of the smile, there’s the desire to maintain the smile. Which prolongs the kiss. Which I don’t object to.

So . . . I’ve achieved my blush quota for today. Now it’s poll time! Don’t worry, voting is anonymous.

Alpine Loop Drive

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Around this time last year, about a week later, Reilly took me on a drive through the Alpine Loop. I was hoping — hoping — that he would kiss me for the first time on this date. We wound around the mountain, the vibrant colors jumped at our eyes and danced with the setting sun. We got out of the car and stood together on an overlook.

He gave me a hug and put his arm around me, then . . . nothing. After watching the sun set, we got back into the car, went to JCW’s for a burger, then we went back to his place where we listened to some music and watched Breaking Bad. So, not a complete loss.

Reilly later explained how scared he was that evening. He really wanted to, but he couldn’t, because he was too nervous.

We drove the Alpine Loop last night. The car climbed the winding road through the aspens, up the back side of Mount Timpanogos. On the descent toward American Fork, we stopped at a parking lot for one of the main overlooks. It was the same place we stood last year, right when I was expecting that first kiss. We took some photos, we made fun of things — particularly the beautiful family that was getting professional portraits taken — and we looked at the halo the sun formed behind the peak nearest to us.

Before we got back into the car, Reilly leaned down and kissed me gently on the lips. Confidently. Without hesitation. I asked him if that’s how he would have done it last year. He said maybe, except that he would have also pooped his pants. Yes, he said, “pooped.” And of course it perfectly describes his level of nervousness so many years ago. Which is less than one.

He’s exceeded all my hopes.

Here are some photos we took. The leaves turned early this year, and I was afraid the colors would have faded too much. They were much brighter two weeks ago, and many of the leaves have fallen to the ground. Fortunately, the Alpine Loop is almost always beautiful, except when there are fires. People, don’t start fires.

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He and I have become very good at adding and subtracting 7.

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Look, blog post! Please forgive.

More than two months ago — it was the end of August — I was walking home from Sunday dinner at a friend’s, and my ward prayer was happening outside. I had just moved in to a new ward and was starting to get to  know people. I turned down a potluck invitation from a new friend because I already told the other friend I’d come to dinner. And as I approached this ward prayer crowd, I wondered if I would see this new friend and ask him about leftovers. I saw a girl I met earlier that day, and we decided together to try to meet new people. I asked if anyone else knew about the potluck, and somebody — I don’t remember who — told me to ask some name I don’t remember, that he was a bald guy standing with another cluster of talking people.

So, I moseyed over to the neighboring circle of strangers and asked the bald guy if he knew about the potluck. He didn’t. But while I was talking to him, I decided to get to know him.

He told me his name is Reilly. We ended up having a decent conversation about books and movies and music. We talked about the Borders going-out-of-business sale, and he told me about the biannual Salt Lake City Public Library sale, where paperbacks are fifty cents and hardcovers are a dollar. And that usually happens in October. He said he’d amassed quite a few books in the past few months, and I told him I’d like to see his book collection sometime. He seemed a little hesitant at the idea.

Recently he told me that he thought I was 20 when we first met.

We went to the Real Salt Lake City soccer game that following Saturday.

And I did go over to look at this books. And the songs on his iTunes.

Over the weeks, I’ve made hints about my age to him, because that’s what I do:

-living more than 6.5 years in New York City after some time at BYU in 2002
-being about 6 years older than my brother
-seeing certain movies in the theater, like Back to the Future and A League of Their Own
-saying that I was in 7th grade when Ted Bundy was executed, at the state prison, about an hour away from where I lived
-etc.

Then a couple weeks ago, we were on our way to stand in line at the Velour for a concert. We ran into some classmates that I know from Senegal, and they were nice enough to let us cut in front of them in line. These classmates are now officially a couple, after quasi-sneaking their way around dating during the last couple of weeks of the trip. The girl was my roommate, and I told Reilly that they happened to put the Floridians in the same room, who also happened to be the oldest and youngest students. Then I remarked that three birthdays of people on the trip were in the month of May and there was a party, and I observed that I was closer in age to the professor whose birthday was also that month than most of the other students.

Except for the Skabelunds. They’re old. 😉

He says our ages don’t matter.

I’m glad for this.

Complaints You Could Skip

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Two strangers are sleeping in this house right now. The one downstairs is friends of one of the girls downstairs. Her name is Emily, and she seems friendly. Or at least nice enough.

The one on my floor is a friend of my roommate. I haven’t formally met her, because when I came out of my room last night, she was sleeping on a cot in the living room.

The one downstairs has been staying since Saturday, I think. On Sunday night she was talking really loudly on her cell phone to someone in her family. I was trying to watch television, and I had to switch on subtitles. Which I completely understand isn’t a crisis, but I was annoyed. She spoke slowly, almost with the slightest deliberate pauses. Between. Each. Word. She was discussing her options for church. She could try going to a family ward, but then her current bishop told her about an older singles ward. And she told whomever she was talking to that she’d probably try the singles ward because she’d have a better chance of getting dates.

It’s not eavesdropping if she’s in community space speaking loudly enough for the neighbors to hear.

Well, good for her for persisting with and hoping for dates.

I’m containing a rant right now.

Another day, folks.

But sometimes, sometimes I really hate this culture.

I hope these guests leave soon so I can invite my much cooler friends to hang out and play.

That is all.

I Should Love Abdoulaye Wade

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This thought kept crossing my mind during church today, all three hours, in between wanting to pull my hair out and silently disagreeing with everything everyone was saying. And, in between texts. Yes, during church. Judge me already.

This thought surprised me, and I struggled with it.

I’m struggling with it.

A Little Text Savvy

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Me, to a guy friend:  Would any of your hot [distinguishing quality] friends be interested in going out?

Guy friend: They will have to ask their wives or [girlfriends]? There might be one though. Why who is asking?

Me: Just me. I haven’t been on a date in a while. 🙂

Guy friend: Well, we can fix that in a few weeks. This [sic] next two weeks are pretty intense.

Me: You’re a stud. Good luck with everything the next couple of weeks.

Now all I need to do is find someone to go out with in the meantime.

Small Request

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I know I don’t talk to a lot of you on a regular basis, and sometimes the conversation goes a certain way. Most of the time. You know what I mean. I’ve been having this kind of discussion for 18 years, ever since I was old enough to date?

If you decide to ask me if I’m dating anyone, just be aware that I will know:

  1. if you’re merely curious
  2. if you are concerned about my overall happiness and would meddle if you could
  3. if you want to brag about your current amazing relationship, which, if you’d just tell me already, I’d be very excited for you.

Now, I can hold up my end of the conversation, and my intuition serves me well. I may call you out on your intentions, or I may not. But please also be aware that:

  1. if I want to tell you if I’m dating, I will
  2. if I’m not dating, it doesn’t mean I’m sad or pathetic
  3. I really do appreciate your company, but if I’m not outright complaining about dating, you really don’t have to worry or try to fix anything. I’m doing great. I promise.

Thanks.

I HATE GUYS

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I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS I HATE GUYS !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!

ETA: It is morning now, and I have a clearer head. I don’t hate all guys, just most. To those  I don’t hate, I apologize.

The Church Is The Same Everywhere

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Especially family wards, even down to the cute little deacon ushers.

And the organist who really looks like Ronald Reagan.

Speaking of, election day is this coming Saturday.

According to some folks, the current prime minister here has a bogan chin.

And voting is mandatory here.

And, I volunteered to read a scriptural passage in Sunday School, somewhere in 2 Chronicles, four verses (6-10), and the classroom was dead silent as they listened to my “accent.” It was fun how it made me extremely self-conscious.

I’m slowly getting used to the language here. I’m picking up on some of the colloquialisms, and that’s great. But during the opening prayer in sacrament meeting, I might have only understood “blessings” and “atonement,” and luckily I could interpret it well enough to know when to say “amen.”

Oh, here’s the morning view from the balcony, which my room has access to:

These clouds produced hail right before church, and they caused power outages at some of the members’ homes:

Also, I’m staying in a shire (county) in northwest Sydney called Baulkham Hills.

And, I’ve done the Tim Tam Slam. Pictures of that will follow eventually. Fun and unique. And I’m still full of food from all the Sunday eating.

I woke up at 3:00am. I’m hoping to be able to go back to sleep in the next hour or so.

And no one’s ever around for gchat. It’s not like I’m using time for being a tourist for the internet. And it’s a reasonable time in the afternoon, stateside. So: where are you?

Having fun, exploring, living life, falling in love, making out?

Any and/or all of these, I hope.

Oh yeah, I have a couple of dates this week.

I’ll take all the help I can get; it’s obvious I need it.

An Open Letter for Friendship

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Dear Australia,

It’s raining right now, 2:15 EDT. I’m sitting in the bedroom of my NYC apartment. The window is open, the fan is blowing, the lights are off. The air actually feels cool and pleasant. I wonder often what the world like is on the other side, south of the equator, opposite hemisphere. Did you know water drains, toilets flush the other way here? Does that fact fascinate only me? It’s a very nifty fact of which you should be extremely proud, because I associate it with you. I like nifty facts.

I’m sorry to say I don’t know you very well. Sure, I know of your Ayers Rock and Aborigines and the Opera House and your incredible Great Barrier Reef and digeridoos and vegemite and great white sharks and famous surfing; the Crocodile Hunter and the Dundee bloke and Hugh Jackman and Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban and I don’t think Mel Gibson counts; and your Outback Steakhouse. And, of course, your distinct accent. I wish I could hear that accent more often. I sound very American, but I want to be able to hear Australian in my mind whenever I speak. That would rule. Anyway, all these things I listed, while phenomenal (even Crocodile Dundee, but maybe not so much vegemite), barely scratch the surface of the true you.

I do want to thank you, though. The reason I’m grateful is part of the huge appeal of getting to know you better. I want even more to visit you, because you seem to have produced a gentleman who seems genuinely, deeply, passionately interested in one of my very, very best friends, so interested that he is flying across the world, north of the equator, his opposite hemisphere, “Up Over,” at this very moment, to meet my friend. The whole thing started out bravely, yet unassumingly enough, with a single email. Then, it became something bigger. And we’re all giddy about it. Americans get giddy, you know.

Dear island-continent, what do you prefer to be called? Straight-up Australia? Oz? Down Under? I think I’m going to call you Barry. The gentleman’s profession is a barrister, so it’s fitting. Is that okay? You can call me May. Sometimes my close friends call me May-May, so you should wait until that feels comfortable for both of us. Oh, Barry, I’ve never seen anything like this in my friend. She has this look in her face all the time. She tells stories of the gentleman: what he writes or says or grandly gestures, and her already striking eyes twinkle or sparkle or … something. Light dances around in those eyes, and the source of illumination is NOT external.

So, Barry, this is a plea for friendship. It would be so wonderful to get to know you better! And I just want to thank you for sending over a good man who’s serious about earning my friend’s heart; a man whose @$! I won’t kick because he’ll not likely break her heart. Did you see that, Barry, with the censoring? Other guys, boys, @%$! have mistreated my friend in the past, and they have ticked me off, and the very thought of that happening again causes me to compromise my status at BYU by swearing. I frighten myself when I get overly like this, Barry, but I’m not scared to express ill will toward jerks. You’re not a jerk, Barry; I have no hard feelings toward you.

He sent her a rose this morning, you know.

I’ve seen my friend literally swoon. She has collapsed in a puddly heap of her own melty swooniness, which I believe has the consistency of fine chocolate. I had no idea swooning was something people actually did. Now I know.

A lot of hypotheticals are floating around, especially The Hypothetical, because, honestly, these two are in love. And that’s exciting, for certain. Then, Barry, what if  I get to visit you? I mean, this is why I’m writing you – we should establish our friendship first, right? I don’t want to startle you in any way.

Anyway, I’ve gone on way too long. I hope this meeting between your gentleman and my friend goes well. Astoundingly, infinitely; hand-clappingly and jump-up-and-downingly. Barry, above everything else I’ve said, I just want to thank you for helping make my friend so happy.

I hope to see you soon. And, in these circumstances, never too soon.

Sincerely,
May