Speed Dating . . . Sigh

As the Activities Co-Chair at church, I occasionally get roped into stuff I don't want to do. Take speed dating, for instance. What a treat.

I expected the worst. No, really, I expected to leave the "event" in tears. Instead, I can safely say it wasn't that bad. But make sure you understand it wasn't really that good either.

A word-for-word account of my highlight of the evening:

Dude: Hi.

Melissa: Hi. Tell me about yourself.

Dude: I'm a spy. I spy on all sorts of stuff that would result in your death if I told you.

Melissa: Huh. Yeah, I'm a model.

Dude: Yeah, obviously. You should be a model. Look at you, you're the Bond girl and I'm Bond.

Awakward silence.

Melissa: No, really, what do you do.

Dude: I'm an artist.

Picture a flourish of the hands and a dramatic look to the sky. This is also when I realized that labeling him as a "dude" was a bit too masculine a title for him.

Melissa: Really? Art? What is your . . . um, medium?

It's just all falling apart right now.

Dude: I'm so glad you asked. I specialize in digital 3D art. It's the most inspiring work I've ever done. I've had jobs before where I can't wait for the day to be over. Now I'm wishing the day would never end! I just had my first show.

Melissa: Oh. Wow. Um . . .

Dude: It's so amazing to be able to do something with my hands . . .

Melissa: Oh. Yeah. Um . . .

Dude: Like, it's so inspiring. Because I'm an artist. I create masterpieces out of nothing. I am practically a hero.

Melissa: Yeah, I bet. Tell me about your show.

Dude: Well, we're running out of time.

He's suddenly bashful.

Melissa: We've got a second. What were they?

Dude: If you really want to know then you should email me.

This is my number one pet peeve. Do not put the ball in my court.

Melissa: Oh, well . . .

Dude: Let me give you my email address.

Melissa: Um . . .

Dude: Write my email address on your notepad and we can keep up this discussion.

Melissa: See, if I were brave, I would tell you that really I was only interested in you telling me about your "art" so that I wouldn't have to talk to you. It's much easier to appear interested than to sound interested.

Melissa: Clearly, I cannot win here.

Dude: Okay, it's [insert name]lovins@gmail.com

And this is when I looked into his beady eyes and thought to myself, I doubt you know anything about lovin. Just saying. At the end of the night, I left his email on a chair.

I couldn't help but agree when Kaylin said, "You know it's bad when you fail at speed dating."

You Never Forget Your First Time

Lately, it seems that I keep hearing about the dangers of Facebook promoting infidelity among married couples. Maybe it's only Utah that is concerned about this, but there's always some warning against using Facebook as a means to reconnect with members of the opposite sex. The point is that it eventually leads to relaxed boundaries and suddenly, these newly reconnected friends are in love and leaving their spouses.

I think that this argument makes a fairly good point actually. When I think of marriages that disintegrate, it always starts with the small, insignificant stuff.

Yesterday, my old friend Dan* popped up on Facebook.

Dan: Melissa, how are you going to work on a road project and make sure your neon orange vest and hard hat don't clash with your Jimmy Choos?

Melissa: Dan, rest assured. If anybody can do it, that would be me.

Dan (in a sudden burst of excitement): This is so exciting! I've never actually IM'd on Facebook before! You're my first!

Melissa (in a typical burst of inappropriateness): Is it special for you? Because it's special for me.

And there you have it, folks. It always starts so innocently.

*Names changed to protect the innocent . . . i.e., the spouse.

If Only They Had Done It Sooner

We have these neighbor kids who attract all of their little high school friends at their house. Inevitably, around 10 pm at night, you can see cars line up outside of the house and then gobs of people pile up into cars and leave. Once, I heard girls screaming in that annoying, we're hilarious sort of way as they passed us. I think it's pretty cute, to be honest. I think it's a great way to watch your kids without them even knowing it--make your house their hang out spot. Genius.

Two Halloweens ago, we had a mysterious case of somebody stealing our pumpkins. There were pumpkin guts all along the road. We were the victims of death by pumpkin smashing. I feel fairly confident in saying it was these kids.

Last night, as Carrie and I took the trash cans out to the side of the road, we FINALLY got rid of the hay bale that we bought for the fall season. Sadly, this hay bale, while adorable during Halloween and Thanksgiving, was a major eye sore during Christmas and the rest of this winter season.

Why did I not get rid of it sooner? It was too cold. And I'm lazy.

But last night we got rid of it and stuck it in our trash can. Except this morning it was mysteriously gone. The only traces of our hay bale were remnants of straw along the road.

Here's my thought: if only they had done it sooner. I feel like I should send those kids a memo and tell them they're welcome to any of our holiday stuff after the holidays. It would save me time taking it down.

Tomorrow I Will . . .

. . . start a new job. Well, kind of. I'm joining a new project down in Utah County which is the equivalent of HUGE. I'll be working full time on the project beginning this spring. It's my company's biggest public involvement project to date and I'm the one who will be working on it. It's exciting and overwhelming all at once.

The butterflies are slowly working themselves out. I have spent hours talking with my boss about this project and how I'm going to approach it. We've been talking a lot about me asserting myself as a leader in the project and how to take control from the onset.

He took this moment to teach me a lesson:

David: Now, Melissa, understand that you're going to be working with construction workers. They're a little more, um, salty, than your average fare of consultants.

Melissa: Yes, I've worked with construction workers before.

David: And why did they like you?

Insert lead up to lesson.

Melissa: Because I'm a girl.

Consider me playing coy. This is not the answer he was looking for.

David: And?

Melissa: And, for a girl, I wear makeup and blow dry my hair.

Still, not the answer he's looking for.

David: And?

Melissa: Well, now that you mention it, I also have a bright pink purse. Those guys love to tease me about it.

He explodes. The opportunity for a tender learning moment between teacher and student has been lost.

David: NO! Because you went in there and you were smart and you demanded their respect!

Melissa: Oh, well, there was that, too.

Wake-Up Call

I tend to think of myself as a fairly likeable person and so it's always strange to me when I feel people are ambivalent to me or dislike me. Yes, I realize this is an insanely arrogant thing to say, but I guess over the years I've learned how to be sociable and while I'm not perfect, I feel like I'm pretty good at making friends.

And so it's strange to me when I go somewhere and have trouble making friends. My confidence falters and I become hyperaware of everything I say and do. Later, I berate myself for having not been better, smoother, cooler. It's like I'm back in high school again. A memory I do not treasure.

My partner for my calling at church has that effect on me. I feel completely invisible around him. He has this tendency to stare right through me. And I can see the wheels in his head turning as he's trying to figure out how long he has to talk to me before he can get away.

To be honest, it's one of the most hurtful things I've experienced in a long time. It's terrible to feel obsolete. It also irritates me to no end and yesterday, after one of these delightful excursions, I spent the rest of the day angry and my frustration trickled down to other people who have hurt me. I suddenly became one big ball of anger.

This morning I was still mad. Angry. I was even considering switching wards because do I really need to be patronized in this way? Seriously, it's not like I harrass the dude. We have a pretty big calling and I'd prefer it if we were a team rather than independent spheres circling around each other.

And then it hit me. I'm sure I have stared through people who have talked to me and have asked for my attention because I was too caught up in the other things I had to do. Or perhaps, I was thinking about the other people I wanted to talk to instead of that particular person. I am no different than this guy. I am just as guilty.

I feel a little embarrassed and humbled by my epiphany. I'm grateful for the lesson and actually feel much better. But that's irrelevant considering the task now at hand--to be more mindful of others, to be kinder. I don't really think I'm either of these things. But then, I guess that's the point.

To Go Vegan? Compelling Evidence

Today at work I saw one of my co-workers and YOWSA! She was looking hot.

"Thanks," she said. "I went vegan and started working out."

Huh.

So what exactly does that mean? No meat and dairy. Ugh.

I'm kind of against the idea of being vegetarian or vegan because A) I'm heartless against the poor animals and don't really care, and B) I'm a big believer in eating protein with every meal. Because what do you eat if you're not eating protein? Carbs? Leafy green vegetables that are just crying out to accompany something juicy . . . like a steak?

And yes, I know, protein doesn't come solely in the form of meat. But still, I think it's important to eat meat. Balance, you know.

Also, if you argue that meat and dairy products hurt the poor animals, I respectfully disagree. I think it's inhumane to let the poor animals just wait around to be milked. Although I can't speak firsthand on this subject, I hear it can be a little painful. Just saying.

But I was truly interested in this vegan diet because again, she was looking so. freaking. good. And I'm not too proud to admit I was a tiny bit envious until she said, "And whenever I think about eating a pastry and then think about the pain animals have had to go through to make that pastry, well, it motivates me 100% not to eat it."

Yeah, that doesn't really motivate me. Guess I won't be making the switch any time soon.