There IS No Competition in LadyLand!

There is a disturbing phenomenon going on in the Public Dating World. You've been there before; you're going to dinner, holding hands, snuggling around town, finding excuses to whisper in each other's ear...and it's nice. Nice to be around someone you find attractive and who clearly enjoys holding you as much as you letting them. When this happens for me, I'm not always immediately sold on whether or not we're compatible beyond any of the above, but there is a certain delight in being open to finding out if there's anything more to it. But recently, I had the oddest experience of getting third-wheeled...by my ladyfriends! Everywhere we went, women aggressively flirted, fussed and fawned over my companion...when I was right beside him! At one point, a girl actually followed us and then sat in-between us- during church! I was stunned at the lack of civility and blatantly assertive behavior by women I considered to be friends.

Make no mistake; I didn't feel I had claim on the guy who was taking me out and who was continually by my side with his arm(s) around me everywhere we went. But I did feel like his outward actions made some sort of statement to the public world...perhaps not what we were defined as, but that we most certainly had something going on. While I didn't expect either of us to be exclusive, I was certainly not prepared for the lack of civility that occurred day after day when we were amongst "friends."

I hear women complain all the time that they hate feeling like they need to "compete" for attention from men. That women universally dislike being or feeling catty or threatened by other women. Even though no one enjoys this experience, somehow, it continues to be perpetuated. I've considered myself unusually lucky in being surrounded by women I know I can trust and who support me; but this latest experience threw me for a loop. Suddenly having women friends interrupt as I was planning a date with someone, being bumped out of my own conversation and ending up a third wheel...it was all very strange. At one point, deep in conversation with a man I was connecting with, a "friend" interrupted (citing a great desire to catch up with me); I gently informed her that I was in the middle of a discussion and I'd love to find her in a few minutes to catch up as well. She glibly acknowledged interrupting and then continued to stand between us until I walked away (since it was not actually ME she had wanted to "catch up" with).
It was like being on "The Bachelor." And nearly just as awful.

Here's the thing, ladies.
There is no such thing as another woman being your competition.
No. Such. Thing.

You may think you need to make yourself known to a man. You may fear you need to draw attention to yourself in order to be noticed. You may feel that the presence of another woman intrinsically draws attention away from you. I'm here to tell you; she does not. And here's why:
Men know what they want.
I'm not saying they're always smooth. I'm not saying they always approach relationships in an ideal way. I'm not saying men are graceful, suave or that their plans are always executed well (or in a timely fashion). I am simply saying that men know when they want to approach a woman and when they do not. And no amount of thrusting yourself in their face is going to affect their intrinsic interest in knowing you as a person. Sure, you'll get his attention momentarily. Sure, you'll get maybe five minutes of face time. He'll also be looking over your shoulder at every other person who walks by and you'll be pissed. Then, you'll spend the next four days creating excuses for his cagey behaviour. And when he still doesn't call, you'll start saying derogatory things about his character and doubting his masculinity before your girlfriends, amongst other such stereotypically petty slanders. (Sorry, boys. It's true. This is how the social aftershock works.)

The problem is not that he doesn't have the courage to ask you out. The problem is not that he disrespects you or that he's mistreated or mislead you. The problem is that you forced yourself into the path of a man who would have otherwise not pursued you. And then, as he continues on his natural orbit of not noticing you, you are disappointed in having an expectation borne of your own efforts alone. You have worked yourself into a frenzy and wasted time and energy over someone who would have never gone out of his way for you to begin with.

On the other hand, there are men who will go out of their way to know you. I'm not saying they're the men you want going out of their way for you, but I am saying that they do exist. You know this is true because you know you have been approached by them before. We have all been pursued at some point or another, and while we cannot always choose who puts forth the effort, we can know with absolute confidence the difference between a relationship that is created because a man is interested enough to pursue something with you versus a relationship forced because you're continually creating reasons to interact with a man who otherwise has not put forth any personal effort to forge a connection with you.

The reality is that no amount of YOU putting yourself in front of another woman is going to make you automatically more attractive/interesting/"better" than her. Nor does it mean you are not attractive/interesting or someone else's "better." While men may find the attention flattering, all you are doing is feeding an ego; his. And, ultimately, feeding someone else's ego when it's unwarranted and he's done nothing to demand your attention or respect simply leaves you going out of your way for someone who otherwise would have not taken notice of you. And really, who wants someone like that in their life anyway?

So here's the lesson, ladies. We are not the enemy. We are not in competition. If anything, we are your best ally. Every one of us can name (easily!) five men we respect, admire and appreciate- but aren't interested in dating. Ever think that you could help a sister out and send him in the direction of one of your lady-friends who may be able to return an affection for him? It's more likely to happen than him sending you one of his bro's, that's for sure. What about introducing your girlfriend to someone at a party that you've met who's attractive...but you're not interested? How much do you think BOTH of them will appreciate the introduction and attention? The reality is that attraction exists; we gravitate toward certain people for a reason. Forcing a relationship by jumping your natural gravitational pull is less likely to create a new solar system than it is to place undue strain and pressure around your surrounding atmosphere.

So please. Don't hit on my boyfriend. If you're the one he's interested in, I'm sure he'll find a way to call you.

The Interception.

One time I heard Steve Young (some football guy) speak. Well- I guess I've heard him speak an inordinate amount for being completely uninterested in football. In any case, ONE of these times, as I floated in and out of consciousness during his endless football stories (not even analogies- just stories!), he talked about this awful day of playing and then suddenly he thought he had it all together and then, "Wham! Interception." I alerted with a start and applauded. My friend turned to me and said, "No, Farrah. An interception is a BAD thing." Man. Not only was this a hella crappy story about a crap day, but that term, "interception," didn't make any sense as a negative whatsoever. If you throw a ball and someone catches it, that sounds like a GOOD thing to me. But now, over ten years later, I think I'm beginning to understand.

I've become accustomed to considering other women my ally. The assumption comes automatically- I like women and I value sisterhood; with that, there's an intrinsic trust I hold to other women- deserved or not, I assume we are on friendly terms and on the same side- the same team, if you will. But now I realize, some women may not necessarily play for the other team, but they can go rogue and play for themselves.

Recently I had an interesting string of conversations with a respected male friend about the pettiness of women. The leap women will take in calling one another "bitches," "ho's" and "sluts." I'm going to stop here and offer some recommended reading.

They were well interpreted for entertainment value in Tina Fey's comedy, "Mean Girls," but you probably already knew that. While there's much discussion we could have at this point, I'm going to focus this post on only one moment: The Interception.

Recently at a party, I noticed a guy shadowing me around a bit. Eventually I worked up the nerve to turn around and introduce myself and as we were beginning to hit it off, another girl, a stranger, walked directly in-between us and suggested I talk to another man.
I only wish I were making this up.
Here's the real conversation:

Me: O, yes! So you must be the guy (my girl friend) was telling me about! Is this your house?

He: No- I don't live here, but yeah! I was inviting-

tall girl walks between us and interjects-

She: This is where (some other dude) lives.

Me: (slightly startled) O...um...

She: You should go talk to him. He's that Asian guy over there. Good looking. Single.

Me: (uncomfortable laugh with a friendly nudge) Aren't we all?

She did NOT reciprocate the gesture OR find me funny. OR move from her stance between us. So I turned and left.

In any case, while I was in the middle of a conversation with someone who was clearly also in the middle of a conversation with me as well, this particular girl found it totally appropriate to physically step in-between us and literally tell me to go and talk to someone else. Perhaps it was my weak point to have turned and left, or perhaps it was his to not call her out. I am hesitant to pass judgment on either of our etiquette in response, considering we were at a party and had only been talking for several minutes. And that's what's even stranger to me; it was only a conversation. It was simply being friendly and doing what normal social behaviour would dictate: make an introduction, find mutual connections, explore a social connection- all basic interactions one should expect at a social event. I generally like to explain conversation like throwing a ball. You are responsible to throw first- the faster you can throw to your partner, the less you have to think about yourself- you are focusing on getting the ball into your partner's hands. Doing this helps to relieve yourself of the pressure of thinking of what to say next- as soon as you release that ball and hand it off to your partner, the ball is in their court and you are free to enjoy listening to their response until they choose to either 1) throw the ball back or 2) hold onto and dominate the ball for themselves 3) drop your ball and walk off the court. What startles me is how common a third party feels comfortable in walking in and taking the ball with them as they go. An interception. A negative interception!

I'm not sure of a solution to this kind of play, but perhaps this experience can be a call to greater awareness for all of us. Interceptions do happen. They are intentional. If it happens to you, supersede smoothly it by refocusing on the partner you came to play ball with. And if you're the one intercepting, I'll tell you now; you're rude. And yeah- I'll probably call you a bitch. And you'll totally deserve it.

Dear Elizabeth Hasselbeck:

Shut the hell up.
Please.
Just. Stop. Talking.
Apparently the plastic "representative" of a conservative, white-bread mom demographic from "The View" thought it would be funny to "joke" about a sexual predator who spied on a Dancing with the Stars contestant in her hotel room, saying that if only he had waited a few weeks, he would've seen the same thing "without the jail time."
O, tee-hee-hee, Miss Priss! You are funny. SO DAMN FUNNY. Because isn't it hilarious when women are stalked by perverts and sent death threats? Isn't that just so f*ing HILARIOUS?!? Frankly, I'm a little shocked that someone IN the entertainment industry doesn't know that- just like the ridiculous outfits used in ice-skating, it is the standard for ballroom dance costumes to be flashy, revealing and bright. As a friend from the world reknown BYU Ballroom Dance Company once explained to me, the more attention you can get from your costume, the more likely the judges are to notice you and watch you rather than your opponents. The men's costumes are much the same. A lot of skin. A lot of sequins. It's pretty standard.
This explanation is coming from a student at one of the most conservative schools in America. If that 19 year old BYU student can understand the pageantry and performance of ballroom dance and a paid television personality can't?!?

Furthermore, AS a public persona, Elizabeth Hasselbeck, you should know a few things about survivors of sexual abuse. It's not their fault. I'll say it again, to make sure this gets through your bleached out thick-ass, self-righteous head: IT'S NOT THEIR FAULT. When someone is abused, raped, stalked, preyed upon- it is is not because they were out after dark; it is not because they were wearing a skirt; it was not because they chose to get undressed in their hotel room; it is because the perpetrator is sick. The perpetrator is one who chose to prey upon, exploit and abuse another human being. That criminal commits these acts because there is an underlying disrespect for human life which allows for selfish acts that hurt others. By assuming that abuse is linked to, say, what a woman is wearing (on a televised dance show, by the way) not only perpetuates the myth that a woman would have any control over a sex-criminal's actions and therefore, she must've been asking for it, but it sends an equally harmful message to others: if you do everything right, these bad things won't happen to you.
Take just one minute to think about how damaging and inaccurate that message is.

I'm disgusted by the blatant display of ignorance you've chosen to show us, Elizabeth Hasselbeck. I'm shocked at the crude manner in which you find humor at someone else's humiliation and fear. And I'm horrified that you actually think that by wearing a dress with "all this fabric" somehow makes you better, safer or more deserving of respect and boundaries than any other woman.

You're an idiot.
Please refrain from speaking.
Thanks.

Rom-Com.

Cute, spunky thirty-something works in floral shop, surrounded by other people's romance, but with no one of her own!
My life is a romantic comedy.I started my morning with this video.
I've been asked to attend the LA and surrounding bridal events to do "research." I've also been asked to go "under-cover" as a bride to investigate wedding-related services (per my employer). They even have a cubic zirconia picked out for me and a fake bio to share. FOR MY JOB. And no, I am not an investigative reporter.

THIS IS MY REAL LIFE, PEOPLE. Forget that I'm not actually in a relationship; as far as the dates I've been on recently, I haven't even told you the part about my marathon date with the guy who turned out to be kind of anti-Semetic. Yeah. You can't make this stuff up. And everywhere I look they've got another billboard of diva/hottie/megastar Julia Roberts/Jennifer Lopez/Cameron Diaz looking sad, alone and cloaking their desperation for matrimony with a high-powered, executive career.
Gag.
The next time I see J-Lo looking sad and alone with a tray of tv dinners, all the profanity in my heart is going to come spewing right on out. No holds barred. Just because she's on screen might make her an actress, but it doesn't make her a GOOD actress and it certainly doesn't make her acting good enough to pull off 30-something, alone and sad about it. And no, I'm not buying that she's adorable because she bumbles around like an idiot (really? What high-powered executive- male OR female- is THAT socially/neurologically deficient?!?) O wait...I get it- it's supposed to make those glamazons more "relatable" and "endearing." I'm not buying it. Now, Renee Zellweger 52lbs overweight with splotchy skin in "Bridget Jones"? Sure. Sandra Bullock in sweats and no makeup for the entire run of "While You Were Sleeping"? Okay. Drew Barrymore looking homely and continuing to BE homely even AFTER her popularity makeover in "Never Been Kissed"? SOLD. Those performances WORK because these women owned up to their character's deficits and REVELED in them. Which is why we fall in love with them and perhaps explains how, in an alternate universe of movieland, their leading men see through their exterior plainness and into what makes them shine. Let's look past the message that they are single and alone BECAUSE they are dowdy...because (clearly), this is not always the case.

Every time I have to share one of my true-life stories with friends, Caroline reminds me that my life really IS exactly like a romantic comedy (cliche's and all)- they just haven't cast my leading man yet. But if it requires that he break off his five year engagement to go flitting after my lost mitten when I live in Los Angeles, so help me!, I will probably hit him upside the head and tell him to go back to the woman he's already committed half a decade to. I really would prefer that my happiness not be dependent upon wrecking someone else's home (another disgusting crux of most Rom-Coms). At least my conscious can be clear and I'll be just fine eating this frozen pizza on my own beside my imaginary cat, thank you.

Brownie Slut.

I'm KINDA shocked when I meet someone (especially a BYU alum) who is not familiar with the term, "Brownie Slut." These Brownie Sluts were so prevalent in my college years that I swore off baking the entire time there, just to ensure I was not confused with one. You've seen them; those girls who peddle baked goods, usually door-to-door, in order to meet and introduce themselves to local boys. The rationale (if you can call it such) is that, by providing a sweet treat, she too, would get a treat and be invited on a magical date to the temple or to 7 Peaks or something equally romantic and eventually be married by next semester. Being a Brownie Slut is like the gateway drug to being a pharmaceutical rep; provide treats and you will be remembered and revered. And hopefully position you well to marry a doctor! Totally clever plan, riiight?
Barf.
While I have no objections to brownies proper, it is in the intent of the act which I find disheartening.

And now I must address the Sluts themselves:
Ladies- at what point did it seem like prostituting your skills out to men who have done NOTHING for you, seem like a good idea? Does it occur to you that maybe a man might value you more if you let HIM do something to get YOUR attention? So close your cupboards, ladies.*

*See? It's not just me. It's DOCTRINE now.

Sara Jessica Parker and Me:

I couldn't have said it better myself, Orson Scott Card.

His article on how LDS men could learn a lot from Sex & the City.

O wait...
I think I might have!

Destiny.

You do not have to be your mother
Unless she is who you want to be.
You do not have to be your mother's mother, or your mother's mother's mother, or even your grandmother's mother on your father's side. You may inherit their chins or their hips or their eyes, but you are not destined to become the women who came before you, you are not destined to live their lives.
So if you inherit something, inherit their strength.
If you inherit something, inherit their resilience.
Because the only person you are destined to become is the person YOU DECIDE to be.
-Nike.

So I've been cleaning out those areas where you just shove papers that don't belong anywhere and I've come across some real gems. This is a Nike ad I found in high school that I liked so much, I framed it and carted it around me everywhere I went. It's only the last couple of years I put it in a "quotes I love so much I can't let them go" box. May it inspire you as it inspires me.

Cute. Not Dumb.

Kory asked this morning how it is that, despite all evidence to the contrary, she likes Rachel McAdams even though she has repeatedly chosen to be in movies that make women look like idiots. She asks, "Can her awesomeness in Mean Girls outweigh the terribleness of The Notebook, the Family Stone and now, The Time Traveler's Wife?" I think it's because she's cute, but not dumb. This does not help the dilemma of one after terrible-nother chick-flick being barfed out onto the public screens and theater posters everywhere.

The problem with Romantic Comedies or the Romance Film collection in general is that they make women look like idiots and they treat women who SEE them like morons, with little expectation for plot beyond seeing good hair and home decor. It's our own fault that Hollywood continues to churn out such trash, really, since most of the people paying to see these movies are women who are stupid for not having higher expectations. Forget boycotting the film industry with it's salacious sensuality and profane humor- Please: refuse to see yet ANOTHER movie that makes women look incapable of reasonable action. Put your foot down and put it down NOW.

Sorry, Rachel McAdams. You're cute and not-dumb, but a movie about a woman who sits around waiting for the man of her dreams to appear here and there throughout her life only to abandon her during her REAL life? And she STAYS with him?!? That's not romantic. That's just real life.

Rebuttle to "Settling."

Holy crap, guys!
That was the LONGEST f*ing article I've ever had to plow through IN MY LIFE. I swear to never ever subject you to something like that load of horsepucky ever again. I think I may have gone blind in-between the moments where I slipped into a coma trying to read something I posted on my own blog. That may have been the most depressing and atrocious excuse for marriage I have ever heard (next to marrying for money over attraction). What is this? 1952? What? All of a sudden, as a woman with a career and a brain and ambition, I no longer have options?!?!
Settle? HELL's NO!

Now that THAT is off my chest, here is my justification:

I should probably begin by saying that my 'standards' (ahem), are not so high. Meaning, I've never had a "type." No height requirement (it's pretty hard to find someone shorter than me in general), no "look"- in fact, I've been accused by my own mother of being attracted to 'ugly' men (her words, not mine). I could care less if he had style or not- but if he takes longer to get ready than me, it's a seriously furrowed brow item. I find there to be a drastic difference between "attractive" and "attractED." And that the qualities an individual possesses- whether it is intelligence or some esoteric passion for art or music or business even (sigh) sports, most people have something quirky and interesting about them that sets them apart and makes them special. And when I find myself attracted to the man who is worthy of giving me a blessing or who is willing to sit still and be alone with me when all I need is a shoulder to nestle in or someone who is thoughtful and insightful, I am just thankful to be blessed enough to know people I admire and respect so much as to trust them with myself. And recognizing those qualities- the ones which compose us as individuals (not as chattel or manufactured products to fit an image, as our society would have us feel) is usually what makes me find appreciation and thereby attraction to an individual.

On the flip side, I don't think it's necessary to budge on my standards of living. Meaning, I am willing to live my life according to certain principles of kindness, consideration and I appreciate intelligence, humor, and a certain level of adventure- and whatever I am prepared to live (or sacrifice), I would expect it's possible for a man to do the same. And no- I don't think it's asking too much in expecting someone else to be willing to do anything I am able to do. Do I expect him to sacrifice everything to make gobs of money? Well...I haven't found that to be a motivating factor to do so myself, so...No. Do I expect him to do everything within his power to live righteously and serve faithfully according to his level of understanding in the gospel? Well...I am striving to continually learn and grow according to my faith. Is it so much to expect a man that would be making the efforts to do the same?

We're all on different timetables, with different experiences and varying degrees of understanding. But that doesn't mean we can't have similar directions and expectations for how we want to live our lives! As entertaining as it may be to complain or bemoan the state of single life, the reality is, we choose to be single. We choose to live the life we're leading because (hopefully) we're consistently making choices for the greater good and for longstanding joy. Find faith in this experience- please- I'm begging you- and stop saying it's because of someone else that you're in this mess. Empower yourself by taking accountability and responsibility for who you are and what you're doing today. Now. And if you don't like what you see, change it. Because, in the end, single or otherwise, the only person who can make you happy with who you are, is you.

SETTLE(!/?/.)

Clearly I have been slack, due to unforseen circumstances (ie: homelessness, living in 3 places all at once, continued house-hunt, a cold I just can't kick, a string of really fantastic weather, booking talent I am unfamiliar with but accepting that they're famous, so that's all that matters, painting my toenails, unflattering lighting, etc.) I am posting this article which has been much buzzed about. In fact, I'm really flattered to have had several people ask if I have read it, and could I post my response on Blogg? Well, it's nice to know you care to hear what I have to say. For now, go ahead and read it yourself so you'll have something to say when I make an offensive, generalized statement you'll find amusing but far too scary and honest to say yourself. I've got to blow my nose.

The case for settling for Mr. Good Enough
by Lori Gottlieb
Marry Him!

About six months after my son was born, he and I were sitting on a blanket at the park with a close friend and her daughter. It was a sunny summer weekend, and other parents and their kids picnicked nearby—mothers munching berries and lounging on the grass, fathers tossing balls with their giddy toddlers. My friend and I, who, in fits of self-empowerment, had conceived our babies with donor sperm because we hadn’t met Mr. Right yet, surveyed the idyllic scene.

“Ah, this is the dream,” I said, and we nodded in silence for a minute, then burst out laughing. In some ways, I meant it: we’d both dreamed of motherhood, and here we were, picnicking in the park with our children. But it was also decidedly not the dream. The dream, like that of our mothers and their mothers from time immemorial, was to fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after. Of course, we’d be loath to admit it in this day and age, but ask any soul-baring 40-year-old single heterosexual woman what she most longs for in life, and she probably won’t tell you it’s a better career or a smaller waistline or a bigger apartment. Most likely, she’ll say that what she really wants is a husband (and, by extension, a child).

To the outside world, of course, we still call ourselves feminists and insist—vehemently, even—that we’re independent and self-sufficient and don’t believe in any of that damsel-in-distress stuff, but in reality, we aren’t fish who can do without a bicycle, we’re women who want a traditional family. And despite growing up in an era when the centuries-old mantra to get married young was finally (and, it seemed, refreshingly) replaced by encouragement to postpone that milestone in pursuit of high ideals (education! career! but also true love!), every woman I know—no matter how successful and ambitious, how financially and emotionally secure—feels panic, occasionally coupled with desperation, if she hits 30 and finds herself unmarried.

Oh, I know—I’m guessing there are single 30-year-old women reading this right now who will be writing letters to the editor to say that the women I know aren’t widely representative, that I’ve been co-opted by the cult of the feminist backlash, and basically, that I have no idea what I’m talking about. And all I can say is, if you say you’re not worried, either you’re in denial or you’re lying. In fact, take a good look in the mirror and try to convince yourself that you’re not worried, because you’ll see how silly your face looks when you’re being disingenuous.

Whether you acknowledge it or not, there’s good reason to worry. By the time 35th-birthday-brunch celebrations roll around for still-single women, serious, irreversible life issues masquerading as “jokes” creep into public conversation: Well, I don’t feel old, but my eggs sure do! or Maybe this year I’ll marry Todd. I’m not getting any younger! The birthday girl smiles a bit too widely as she delivers these lines, and everyone laughs a little too hard for a little too long, not because we find these sentiments funny, but because we’re awkwardly acknowledging how unfunny they are. At their core, they pose one of the most complicated, painful, and pervasive dilemmas many single women are forced to grapple with nowadays: Is it better to be alone, or to settle?

My advice is this: Settle! That’s right. Don’t worry about passion or intense connection. Don’t nix a guy based on his annoying habit of yelling “Bravo!” in movie theaters. Overlook his halitosis or abysmal sense of aesthetics. Because if you want to have the infrastructure in place to have a family, settling is the way to go. Based on my observations, in fact, settling will probably make you happier in the long run, since many of those who marry with great expectations become more disillusioned with each passing year. (It’s hard to maintain that level of zing when the conversation morphs into discussions about who’s changing the diapers or balancing the checkbook.)

Obviously, I wasn’t always an advocate of settling. In fact, it took not settling to make me realize that settling is the better option, and even though settling is a rampant phenomenon, talking about it in a positive light makes people profoundly uncomfortable. Whenever I make the case for settling, people look at me with creased brows of disapproval or frowns of disappointment, the way a child might look at an older sibling who just informed her that Jerry’s Kids aren’t going to walk, even if you send them money. It’s not only politically incorrect to get behind settling, it’s downright un-American. Our culture tells us to keep our eyes on the prize (while our mothers, who know better, tell us not to be so picky), and the theme of holding out for true love (whatever that is—look at the divorce rate) permeates our collective mentality.

Even situation comedies, starting in the 1970s with The Mary Tyler Moore Show and going all the way to Friends, feature endearing single women in the dating trenches, and there’s supposed to be something romantic and even heroic about their search for true love. Of course, the crucial difference is that, whereas the earlier series begins after Mary has been jilted by her fiancé, the more modern-day Friends opens as Rachel Green leaves her nice-guy orthodontist fiancé at the altar simply because she isn’t feeling it. But either way, in episode after episode, as both women continue to be unlucky in love, settling starts to look pretty darn appealing. Mary is supposed to be contentedly independent and fulfilled by her newsroom family, but in fact her life seems lonely. Are we to assume that at the end of the series, Mary, by then in her late 30s, found her soul mate after the lights in the newsroom went out and her work family was disbanded? If her experience was anything like mine or that of my single friends, it’s unlikely.
And while Rachel and her supposed soul mate, Ross, finally get together (for the umpteenth time) in the finale of Friends, do we feel confident that she’ll be happier with Ross than she would have been had she settled down with Barry, the orthodontist, 10 years earlier? She and Ross have passion but have never had long-term stability, and the fireworks she experiences with him but not with Barry might actually turn out to be a liability, given how many times their relationship has already gone up in flames. It’s equally questionable whether Sex and the City’s Carrie Bradshaw, who cheated on her kindhearted and generous boyfriend, Aidan, only to end up with the more exciting but self-absorbed Mr. Big, will be better off in the framework of marriage and family. (Some time after the breakup, when Carrie ran into Aidan on the street, he was carrying his infant in a Baby Björn. Can anyone imagine Mr. Big walking around with a Björn?)

When we’re holding out for deep romantic love, we have the fantasy that this level of passionate intensity will make us happier. But marrying Mr. Good Enough might be an equally viable option, especially if you’re looking for a stable, reliable life companion. Madame Bovary might not see it that way, but if she’d remained single, I’ll bet she would have been even more depressed than she was while living with her tedious but caring husband.

What I didn’t realize when I decided, in my 30s, to break up with boyfriends I might otherwise have ended up marrying, is that while settling seems like an enormous act of resignation when you’re looking at it from the vantage point of a single person, once you take the plunge and do it, you’ll probably be relatively content. It sounds obvious now, but I didn’t fully appreciate back then that what makes for a good marriage isn’t necessarily what makes for a good romantic relationship. Once you’re married, it’s not about whom you want to go on vacation with; it’s about whom you want to run a household with. Marriage isn’t a passion-fest; it’s more like a partnership formed to run a very small, mundane, and often boring nonprofit business. And I mean this in a good way.

I don’t mean to say that settling is ideal. I’m simply saying that it might have gotten an undeservedly bad rap. As the only single woman in my son’s mommy-and-me group, I used to listen each week to a litany of unrelenting complaints about people’s husbands and feel pretty good about my decision to hold out for the right guy, only to realize that these women wouldn’t trade places with me for a second, no matter how dull their marriages might be or how desperately they might long for a different husband. They, like me, would rather feel alone in a marriage than actually be alone, because they, like me, realize that marriage ultimately isn’t about cosmic connection—it’s about how having a teammate, even if he’s not the love of your life, is better than not having one at all.

The couples my friend and I saw at the park that summer were enviable but not because they seemed so in love—they were enviable because the husbands played with the kids for 20 minutes so their wives could eat lunch. In practice, my married friends with kids don’t spend that much time with their husbands anyway (between work and child care), and in many cases, their biggest complaint seems to be that they never see each other. So if you rarely see your husband—but he’s a decent guy who takes out the trash and sets up the baby gear, and he provides a second income that allows you to spend time with your child instead of working 60 hours a week to support a family on your own—how much does it matter whether the guy you marry is The One?

It’s not that I’ve become jaded to the point that I don’t believe in, or even crave, romantic connection. It’s that my understanding of it has changed. In my formative years, romance was John Cusack and Ione Skye in Say Anything. But when I think about marriage nowadays, my role models are the television characters Will and Grace, who, though Will was gay and his relationship with Grace was platonic, were one of the most romantic couples I can think of. What I long for in a marriage is that sense of having a partner in crime. Someone who knows your day-to-day trivia. Someone who both calls you on your bullshit and puts up with your quirks. So what if Will and Grace weren’t having sex with each other? How many long- married couples are having much sex anyway?

“I just want someone who’s willing to be in the trenches with me,” my single friend Jennifer told me, “and I never thought of marriage that way before.” Two of Jennifer’s friends married men who Jennifer believes aren’t even straight, and while Jennifer wouldn’t have made that choice a few years back, she wonders whether she might be capable of it in the future. “Maybe they understood something that I didn’t,” she said.

What they understood is this: as your priorities change from romance to family, the so-called “deal breakers” change. Some guys aren’t worldly, but they’d make great dads. Or you walk into a room and start talking to this person who is 5'4" and has an unfortunate nose, but he “gets” you. My long-married friend Renée offered this dating advice to me in an e-mail:

I would say even if he’s not the love of your life, make sure he’s someone you respect intellectually, makes you laugh, appreciates you … I bet there are plenty of these men in the older, overweight, and bald category (which they all eventually become anyway).

She wasn’t joking.

A number of my single women friends admit (in hushed voices and after I swear I won’t use their real names here) that they’d readily settle now but wouldn’t have 10 years ago. They believe that part of the problem is that we grew up idealizing marriage—and that if we’d had a more realistic understanding of its cold, hard benefits, we might have done things differently. Instead, we grew up thinking that marriage meant feeling some kind of divine spark, and so we walked away from uninspiring relationships that might have made us happy in the context of a family.

All marriages, of course, involve compromise, but where’s the cutoff? Where’s the line between compromising and settling, and at what age does that line seem to fade away? Choosing to spend your life with a guy who doesn’t delight in the small things in life might be considered settling at 30, but not at 35. By 40, if you get a cold shiver down your spine at the thought of embracing a certain guy, but you enjoy his company more than anyone else’s, is that settling or making an adult compromise?

Take the date I went on last night. The guy was substantially older. He had a long history of major depression and said, in reference to the movies he was writing, “I’m fascinated by comas” and “I have a strong interest in terrorists.” He’d never been married. He was rude to the waiter. But he very much wanted a family, and he was successful, handsome, and smart. As I looked at him from across the table, I thought, Yeah, I’ll see him again. Maybe I can settle for that. But my very next thought was, Maybe I can settle for better. It’s like musical chairs—when do you take a seat, any seat, just so you’re not left standing alone?

Back when I was still convinced I’d find my soul mate, I did, although I never articulated this, have certain requirements. I thought that the person I married would have to have a sense of wonderment about the world, would be both spontaneous and grounded, and would acknowledge that life is hard but also be able to navigate its ups and downs with humor. Many of the guys I dated possessed these qualities, but if one of them lacked a certain degree of kindness, another didn’t seem emotionally stable enough, and another’s values clashed with mine. Others were sweet but so boring that I preferred reading during dinner to sitting through another tedious conversation. I also dated someone who appeared to be highly compatible with me—we had much in common, and strong physical chemistry—but while our sensibilities were similar, they proved to be a half-note off, so we never quite felt in harmony, or never viewed the world through quite the same lens.

Now, though, I realize that if I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life, I’m at the age where I’ll likely need to settle for someone who is settling for me. What I and many women who hold out for true love forget is that we won’t always have the same appeal that we may have had in our 20s and early 30s. Having turned 40, I now have wrinkles, bags under my eyes, and hair in places I didn’t know hair could grow on women. With my nonworking life consumed by thoughts of potty training and playdates, I’ve become a far less interesting person than the one who went on hiking adventures and performed at comedy clubs. But when I chose to have a baby on my own, the plan was that I would continue to search for true connection afterward; it certainly wasn’t that I would have a baby alone only to settle later. After all, wouldn’t it have been wiser to settle for a higher caliber of “not Mr. Right” while my marital value was at its peak?
Those of us who choose not to settle in hopes of finding a soul mate later are almost like teenagers who believe they’re invulnerable to dying in a drunk-driving accident. We lose sight of our mortality. We forget that we, too, will age and become less alluring. And even if some men do find us engaging, and they’re ready to have a family, they’ll likely decide to marry someone younger with whom they can have their own biological children. Which is all the more reason to settle before settling is no longer an option.

I’ll be the first to admit that there’s something objectionable about making the case for settling, because it’s based on the premise that women’s biological clocks place them at the mercy of men, and that therefore a power dynamic dictates what should be an affair solely of the heart (not the heart and the ovaries). But I’m not the only woman who accepts settling as a valid choice—apparently so do the millions who buy bestselling relationship books that advocate settling but that, so as not to offend, simply spin the concept as a form of female empowerment.

Take, for instance, books like Men Are Like Fish: What Every Woman Needs to Know About Catching a Man or Find a Husband After 35 Using What I Learned at Harvard Business School, whose titles alone make it clear that today’s supposedly progressive bachelorettes aren’t waiting for old-fashioned true love to strike before they can get married. Instead, they’re buying dozens of proactive coaching manuals to learn how to strategically land a man. The actual man in question, though, seems so irrelevant that, to my mind, these women might as well grab a well-dressed guy off the street, drag him into the nearest bar, buy him a drink, and ask him to marry her. (Or, to retain her “power,” she should manipulate him into asking her.)

The approaches in these books may differ, but the message is the same: more important than love is marriage. To achieve that goal, women across the country are poring over guidebooks that all boil down to determining, “Does he like me?,” while completely overlooking the equally essential question, “Do I like him?” In other words, whatever compromises you have to make—including, but not limited to, pretending to be or actually becoming an entirely different person—make sure that you get some schmo to propose to you before you turn into a spinster.

Last year’s Why Smart Men Marry Smart Women makes the most blatant case for settling: if women were more willing to “think outside the box,” as one of the book’s married sources advises, many of them would be married. The author then trots out tales of professional, accomplished women happily dating a plumber, a park ranger, and an Army helicopter nurse. The moral is supposed to be “Don’t be too picky” but many of the anecdotes quote women who seem to be trying to convince not just the reader, but themselves, that they haven’t settled.

“I should be with some guy with a vast vocabulary who is very smart,” said Heather, a 30-year-old lawyer turned journalist. Instead, she’s dating an actor who didn’t finish college. “My boyfriend is fun, he’s smart, but he hasn’t gone through years of school. He wanted to pursue acting. And you can tell—he doesn’t have that background, and it never ever once bothered me. But for everyone else, [his lack of education] is what they see.” Another woman says she dates “the ‘secrets’ … guys other women don’t recognize as great.” How’s that for damning praise?

Meanwhile, in sugarcoating this message, the authors often resort to flattery, telling the reader to remember how fabulous, attractive, charming, and intelligent she is, in the hopes that she’ll project a more confident vibe on dates. In my case, though, the flattery backfired. I read these books thinking, Wait, if I’m such a great catch, why should I settle for anyone less than my equal? If I’m so fabulous, don’t I deserve true romantic connection?

Only one popular book that I can think of in the vast “find a man” genre (like most single women confounded by their singleness, I’m embarrassingly well versed) takes the opposite approach. In He’s Just Not That Into You, written by the happily married Greg Behrendt and the unhappily single Liz Tuccillo, the duo exhorts women not to settle. But the book’s format is telling: Behrendt gives perky pep talks to women unable to find a worthy match, while Tuccillo repeatedly comments on how hard it is to take her co-author’s advice, because while being with a partner who is “beneath you” (Behrendt’s term) is problematic, being single just plain “sucks” (Tuccillo’s term).

Before I got pregnant, though, I also read single-mom books such as Choosing Single Motherhood: The Thinking Woman’s Guide, whose chapter titles “Can I Afford It?” and “Dealing With the Stress” seemed like realistic antidotes to the faux-empowering man-hunting manual headings like “A Little Lingerie Can Go a Long Way.” But the book’s author, Mikki Morrissette, held out a tantalizing carrot. In her introduction, she describes having a daughter on her own; then, she writes, a few years later and five months pregnant with her son, “I met a guy I fell in love with. He and my daughter were in the delivery room when my son was born in January 2004.” Each time I read about single women having babies on their own and thriving instead of settling for Mr. Wrong and hiring a divorce lawyer, I felt all jazzed and ready to go. At the time, I truly believed, “I can have it all—a baby now, my soul mate later!”

Well … ha! Hahahaha. And ha.

Just as the relationship books fail to mention what happens after you triumphantly land a husband (you actually have to live with each other), these single-mom books fail to mention that once you have a baby alone, not only do you age about 10 years in the first 10 months, but if you don’t have time to shower, eat, urinate in a timely manner, or even leave the house except for work, where you spend every waking moment that your child is at day care, there’s very little chance that a man—much less The One—is going to knock on your door and join that party.

They also gloss over the cost of dating as a single mom: the time and money spent on online dating (because there are no single men at toddler birthday parties); the babysitter tab for all those boring blind dates; and, most frustrating, hours spent away from your beloved child. Even women who settle but end up divorced might be in a better position than those of us who became mothers on our own, because many ex-wives get both child-support payments and a free night off when the kids go to Dad’s house for a sleepover. Never-married moms don’t get the night off. At the end of the evening, we rush home to pay the babysitter, make any houseguest tiptoe around and speak in a hushed voice, then wake up at 6 a.m. at the first cries of “Mommy!”

Try bringing a guy home to that.

Settling is mostly a women’s game. Men settle far less often and, when they do, they don’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that they’re settling.

My friend Alan, for instance, justified his choice of a “bland” wife who’s a good mom but with whom he shares little connection this way: “I think one-stop shopping is overrated. I get passion at my office with my work, or with my friends that I sometimes call or chat with—it’s not the same, and, boy, it would be exciting to have it with my spouse. But I spend more time with people at my office than I do with my spouse.”

Then there’s my friend Chris, a single 35-year-old marketing consultant who for three years dated someone he calls “the perfect woman”—a kind and beautiful surgeon. She broke off the relationship several times because, she told him with regret, she didn’t think she wanted to spend her life with him. Each time, Chris would persuade her to reconsider, until finally she called it off for good, saying that she just couldn’t marry somebody she wasn’t in love with. Chris was devastated, but now that his ex-girlfriend has reached 35, he’s suddenly hopeful about their future.

“By the time she turns 37,” Chris said confidently, “she’ll come back. And I’ll bet she’ll marry me then. I know she wants to have kids.” I asked Chris why he would want to be with a woman who wasn’t in love with him. Wouldn’t he be settling, too, by marrying someone who would be using him to have a family? Chris didn’t see it that way at all. “She’ll be settling,” Chris said cheerfully. “But not me. I get to marry the woman of my dreams. That’s not settling. That’s the fantasy.”

Chris believes that women are far too picky: everyone knows, he says, that a single middle-aged man still has appealing prospects; a single middle-aged woman likely doesn’t. And he’s right. Single women are painfully aware of this. I hear far more women than men talk about getting married as a goal to be met by a certain deadline. My friend Gabe points out that this allows men to be the true romantics; when a man breaks up with a perfectly acceptable woman because he’s “just not feeling it,” there’s none of the ambivalence a woman with a deadline feels. “Women are the least romantic,” Gabe said. “They think, ‘I can do that.’ For a lot of women, it becomes less about love and more about what they can live with.”

Not long ago, Gabe, who is 43, dated a woman he liked very much one-on-one, but he broke up with her because “she couldn’t be haimish”—comfortable—with his friends in a group setting. He has no regrets. A female friend who broke up with a guy because he “didn’t like to read” and who is now, too, a single mom (with, ironically, no time to read herself) similarly felt no regrets—at first. At the time, she couldn’t imagine settling, but here’s the Catch-22: “If I’d settled at 39,” she said, “I always would have had the fantasy that something better exists out there. Now I know better. Either way, I was screwed.”

The paradox, of course, is that the more it behooves a woman to settle, the less willing she is to settle; a woman in her mid- to late 30s is more discriminating than one in her 20s. She has friends who have known her since childhood, friends who will know her more intimately and understand her more viscerally than any man she meets in midlife. Her tastes and sense of self are more solidly formed. She says things like “He wants me to move downtown, but I love my home at the beach,” and, “But he’s just not curious,” and “Can I really spend my life with someone who’s allergic to dogs?”

I’ve been told that the reason so many women end up alone is that we have too many choices. I think it’s the opposite: we have no choice. If we could choose, we’d choose to be in a healthy marriage based on reciprocal passion and friendship. But the only choices on the table, it sometimes seems, are settle or risk being alone forever.That’s not a whole lot of choice.

Remember the movie Broadcast News? Holly Hunter’s dilemma—the choice between passion and friendship—is exactly the one many women over 30 are faced with. In the end, Holly Hunter’s character decides to wait for the right guy, but he (of course) never materializes. Meanwhile, her emotional soul mate, the Albert Brooks character, gets married (of course) and has children.

And no matter what women decide—settle or don’t settle—there’s a price to be paid, because there’s always going to be regret. Unless you meet the man of your dreams (who, by the way, doesn’t exist, precisely because you dreamed him up), there’s going to be a downside to getting married, but a possibly more profound downside to holding out for someone better.

My friend Jennifer summed it up this way: “When I used to hear women complaining bitterly about their husbands, I’d think, ‘How sad, they settled.’ Now it’s like, ‘God, that would be nice.’”

That’s why mothers tell their daughters to “keep an open mind” about the guy who spends his weekends playing Internet poker or touches your back for two minutes while watching ESPN and calls that “a massage.” The more-pertinent questions, to most concerned mothers of daughters in their 30s, have to do with whether the daughter’s boyfriend will make a good father; or, if he’s a workaholic, whether he can provide the environment for her to be a good mother. As my own mother once advised me, when I was dating a musician, “Everyone settles to some degree. You might as well settle pragmatically.”

I know all this now, and yet—here’s the problem—much as I’d like to settle, I can’t seem to do it. It’s not that I have to be dazzled by a guy anymore (though it would be nice). It’s not even that I have to think about him when he’s not around (though that would be nice, too). Nor is it that I’m unable to accept reality and make significant compromises because that’s what grown-ups do (I can and have—I had a baby on my own).

No, the problem is that the very nature of dating leaves women my age to wrestle with a completely different level of settling. It’s no longer a matter, as it was in my early 30s, of “just not feeling it,” of wanting to be in love. Consider the men whom older women I know have married in varying degrees of desperation over the past few years: a recovering alcoholic who doesn’t always go to his meetings; a trying-to-make-it-in-his-40s actor; a widower who has three nightmarish kids and who’s still actively grieving for his dead wife; and a socially awkward engineer (so socially awkward that he declined to attend his wife’s book party). It’s not that these women are crazy; it’s that the dating pool has dwindled dramatically and that, due to gender politics, the few available men tend to require far more of a concession than those who were single when we were younger. And while I have a much higher tolerance for settling than I did back then, now I have my son to consider. It’s one thing to settle for a subpar mate; it’s quite another to settle for a subpar father figure for my child. So while there’s more incentive to settle now, there’s less willingness to settle too much, because that would be a disservice to my son.

This doesn’t undermine my case for settling. Instead, it supports my argument to do it young, when settling involves constructing a family environment with a perfectly acceptable man who may not trip your romantic trigger—as opposed to doing it older, when settling involves selling your very soul in exchange for damaged goods. Admittedly, it’s a dicey case to make because, like the divorced women I know who claim they wouldn’t have done anything differently, because then they wouldn’t have Biff and Buffy, I, too, can’t imagine life without my magical son. (Although, had I had children with a Mr. Good Enough, wouldn’t I be as hopelessly in love with those children, too?) I also acknowledge the power of the grass-is-always-greener phenomenon, and allow for the possibility that my life alone is better (if far more difficult) than the life I would have in a comfortable but tepid marriage.

But then my married friends say things like, “Oh, you’re so lucky, you don’t have to negotiate with your husband about the cost of piano lessons” or “You’re so lucky, you don’t have anyone putting the kid in front of the TV and you can raise your son the way you want.” I’ll even hear things like, “You’re so lucky, you don’t have to have sex with someone you don’t want to.”

The lists go on, and each time, I say, “OK, if you’re so unhappy, and if I’m so lucky, leave your husband! In fact, send him over here!”

Not one person has taken me up on this offer.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Or in, in my case- ALWAYS GO FOR SECONDS.

If you only knew how many women tell me that I liberate them through food, either by out-consuming them (thus obliterating guilt), or by my outstanding capacity for marathon-eating (freeing them up to enjoy their own meal), or by my outward appreciation of all edible delights (thus, teaching women to always take dessert), I am a free'r of women! A champion of food! At the very least, I am always dependable as a trash-compactor, freeing my lady-friends of any temptations or leftovers.

TRUST ME. This is my role. I do it well. And I serve with honour.

I eat because I can. It's available to me, and I am in a small portion of the world that has more than an adequate portion; unlike most of the world, we have the potential to over-consume. Isn't that a decadent thing to know? How can we throw out perfectly good food, when we know that merely yards away, there are people who have nothing but the clothes on their back, let alone a meal in their belly.

So I eat for the good of society.
I eat for the good of the world.
I eat for the benefit of others.
It's charity, really.

Go for it. For the good of those around you. Liberate yourself and liberate us all. Lie about your weight- in the excess. It's ridiculous that thinness and self-esteem have become interdependent of each other. And who is holding up this standard of starvation as desirable? I'll give you a hint; it isn't in the scriptures. So I say, give the world the finger and do what you want to do. Go for seconds. It isn't everybody who gets to be a part of the world of excess. Be thankful for what you've have. And to those of you who look at you with abhorrence, smile back with brownies in your teeth.

Newton's Law-

Well, let's be truthful. There are a LOT of reasons why women are nuts. You wanna know why women are so crazy? I'll tell you why they're crazy. One reason why is because they're trying to respond to men when men don't realize they aren't sending a clear signal.
*
As in, "We broke up, but he still texts, emails and calls all the time because our friendship is really important to him and he cares about me." Sorry, sister. Even if he's doing all that without malicious intent (and if he's a good guy, he probably really DOES mean all those things), you know what else he is? He's selfish. He wants you in his life when it's convenient for him, but without the obligations of being responsible for your feelings. Meanwhile, he's out on date, while you're still texting your ex-boyfriend about your day and when you find out, you're going to spend the next month or two trying to figure out what the hell happened. If he were thoughtful, he'd let the relationship die a natural death and think kind thoughts of you from afar. Better yet, if he REALLY cared about your well-being and really DID think you were that great of a girl, he'd set you up with someone you COULD have a future with.

Or how about, "I really like him and I feel chemistry and he calls all the time and he always wants to hang out with me- we're such good friends, but now he has a girlfriend. I don't get it!" Get this; to men, being friends means simply that: being a friend. As for the chemistry, it must be there or neither of you would bother having a second conversation. But if that chemistry isn't strong enough to push him over the plate, that boy's never gonna hit what you're pitching. He's just gonna keep catching whatever you throw to him. So, ladies, quit sending out one-way pitches and get out to catch in the field for once. It may mean hanging out in the green a little bit more and you might see less action out in the field, but when that home run comes your way, you KNOW it's your ball to catch.

My girlfriends love getting my "guy version" of perspective on why they might be doing what they're doing and how YOU should start taking responsibility for your own behavior. If there's anything you can take away from this brief interlude, let it be this:
ACT. Don't guage your behavior according to a REaction from some guy's mixed signals. Make sure your actions are the actions of who YOU want to be; see that you are behaving in a way that makes YOU happy. If some man doesn't jive with that, he can go somewhere else. Because somewhere out there is someone who likes your overreacting or underreacting, your drama or lack thereof, your outrageously outgoing behaviour or your solitary ways.

There are a million scenarios like this and you know it. Go ahead. Send them my way. And, gentlemen readers, while I may be gifted with an oversimplified mind, you ARE still The Man. Go ahead and throw in your two cents. I'm sure the ladies will appreciate it.

*You are going to want to watch the entire instructional video, as the ending has useful applications for sending clear signals as illustrated.

Older Men.

Consistently I hear women 25-30something complaining about LDS men in the singles department. And I hear the same two solutions offered each time: Date a non-member. Date an older man. I get why these women think an older man is the solution. He's, well...older. Thus lending more "experience" in ways of wooing as well as- everything else that may go along with the wooing part. Plus, he's usually got more stability- career, emotionally, financially, etc. Now, it's common knowledge I don't date men over the age of 25. It's not really a rule, per se, I've just never done it.*

Here's the thing with dating older men.

I just always end up thinking, "What if he'd rather be with my mom?"

She's superhot, and she's pretty young...I mean, that's not far-fetched, really. So I always take the precaution to date men who are at least several years younger than myself. And, of course, none of them are ever over the age of 25.

Don't even ask me about the 55 year-old man my mom tried setting me up with. When I asked her why SHE didn't just date him, she responded, "Well- he's just so much more your type! He's really smart and he's very cultured- he's just not really my style. But he'd be perfect for you!" um, thanks, Mom. And the sad part is, when he kept calling me, my actual thought process was as follows:
"Well, I'm not dating anyone right now...And he DOES like the international cinema (I can never seem to get anyone to read subtitles with me). And I DO like a good lecture (he was a professor for awhile and still attends certain lecture nights, which sounded fabulous). And he IS really intelligent...."

But, ultimately, unless it's this guy- I really don't care:

OR this one:

Any others with fleeting thoughts of desperation? I'm dying to know. That way I'm not the only one with family members who have a perversity for selling out their daughters to wildly inappropriate men. Being single isn't so bad. And your options can always get worse. There's a bit of consolation in knowing that...I'd rather be alone and have my dignity and practice the fine art of patience and faith, then sell out for a man who drives a nice car and has a daughter older than me.

* That's not entirely true...I have dated someone older once and one time I went out with someone older a couple of times, but that's a whole new story of hilarity to be shared at another date. I mean, time.

Why I Hate Sex:

Sex and the City has ruined young women everywhere. And I actually like the show. It's funny, witty, well-written, honest, well-produced, well-acted, and (let's face it) the fashion has changed my attitude toward getting dressed almost entirely. For those of you who thought the program was too taboo to broach, the show itself is less about sex than it is about relationships, and less about relationships than it is about friendship. Specifically, about girlfriends.

And therein lies the problem. Sex and the City has conditioned young women to believe that lunching together, "girls night out," $500 footwear and couture in a McDonald's are part of a normal lifestyle. If you disagree with me, as your girlfriends with jobs how much they spent on their favourite pair of heels. I promise you, you WILL get responses in the $300 range for 20-somethings. More than that, "Sex" has conditioned women to value putting our girlfriendships above our dating relationships. You see, the men will come and go, but the dishing about it afterward with the girls comes every Saturday at brunch. Men have become bit players in our world of high-fashion, high-living, and high-powered careers; we don't need one man when several here and there can fill our social calendar, and we won't bother to invest ourselves in a relationship or get emotionally attached the way we'll invest in paying off the credit card that has 40 pairs of Manolo Blahniks. After all, quality shoes will outlast most of those relationships anyway, right?

While that attitude of "girls rule, boys drool," served me well in the high-school cafeteria, it seems a bit different as an adult. No offense, Manolo, giant floral accessories, or Vogue (I worship your pages, too), but I don't WANT to have a life where the thing I look forward to most is "girls night out." I don't WANT to discuss the intimate details of my relationship with my sassy smart girlfriends. I don't WANT my relationship to serve as the fodder for cocktail hour. It's PERSONAL. And even if we're all women, there is no reason why my girlfriends need to serve as a soundboard for every little shift in my personal life. Where did all that self-sufficient, independence go, girls? O, that's right. When we said we wanted our independence, we only meant "from men."

Now, I'm really not the sort to go blaming the media for our societal degradation, however, I do think it's worth examining when our 20-somethings are behaving like 40-somethings and our 40-somethings are behaving like teens with an American Express. With all this investing in appearances and investing in status, is it any wonder that investing in one another has fallen by the wayside? How many times do we hear people complain of their unhappiness as they attempt to fill the void with more's, more clothes, more shoes, more social events? At some point, we've all done it. Immersion in a capitalistic culture will train you to believe that the upgrade equals success and success equals fulfillment. And for women, when we're finally at a point where we don't need to be dependant upon a man for economic support, stability or prosperity (women of the world, raise your right hand?) It's a brilliant campaign, really; why wait for a man when you can do everything for yourself? Buy your own ring! As for the man, let him be a side-effect, a bonus- if you will- of YOUR successful living! The sad commentary in all of this is that we've fallen for it; brilliant marketing schemes that compliment our strengths by trivializing our partners. Another example of poor form on the playground.

Marriage isn't a solution, it isn't an answer to all of life's problems, and you will be sorely disappointed if you expect a spouse to fulfill all of your needs (so help me if I actually find myself attracted to a man who enjoys musicals and dressing up as much as I do- then I really WILL be Sara Jessica Parker!) Marriage IS however, one of the greatest acts of faith performed in this life. It is the one opportunity for us to put our faith and our future and the lives of our children into the hands of another human being. An Eternal Relationship isn't a side-effect; it is a goal. A goal that cannot be reached alone, no matter how pretty the shoes we're walking toward it may be.

*For the record, I'll be running a full-on sprint for the man who pops out THIS bad boy:

I Want a Hetero.

We could all do with a little more heterosexuality.

The other week I watched these amazing, talented, sexy, beautiful Polynesian women perform their traditional dances. At certain points, the audience was encouraged to approach the stage and tuck money into their dresses, to encourage and reward them for their dancing. No one moved. I grew embarrassed as their grandfather and other family members were the only ones to get into the spirit of the dance. Mind you, it was in a church- this was not dirty dancing- this was traditional Polynesian dancing. The whole family was involved...Including the grandmother!
So why are we so afraid of a little sensuality? Isn't it a pretty essential part of life (and, ps- the BEST part of being human, as well as- doctrinally, if you're LDS- essential to the gospel)?

My big kick lately has been that I'm "quitting life and moving to Australia!" The first reaction to that statement this afternoon was, "but aren't they pretty sexist over there?" To which I thought, "Yes. Yes, I have heard they are. But you know? I think we could do well with a little more sexism!" Not the abusive, condescending sexism, of course, but the don't-be-afraid-to-stand-up-and-be-a-man kind of attitude. Is it wrong for a man to admire a woman and appreciate her for being a woman? I mean, even if our good men of today were just ONE OUNCE more "sexist," perhaps they'd cowboy up a little bit more, be a little more brave, and a little more direct, and ask out the ladies just a little more often. In this Christian culture, I'm seeing a lot of traditionalist values and expectations in gender roles, but not a whole lot of action. EITHER KIND of action! I'm seeing women using men for one-night-stands and men ignoring women to hang with the boys. What the hell happened here? I'm so confused. And I'm a feminist!

So again, I ask you: What is so wrong with a little heterosexuality?

*But what do I know? I'm just a gay man.

It's YOUR Fault!

Ladies, may I have your attention for just one moment? I just need to make a note of this, since every social gathering has one, every girl-to-girl heart-to-heart has one; whenever women get together, the conversation will inevitably contain at least one negative story about a some guy who was a superjerk.

I'm sick of it.

This is not to say that such ogres of society don't exist. It is not to say that I don't feel your pain. You know I am hardly free of the plague myself...but here is my point:

We are not helping anyone, OR ourselves, by recounting experiences to the point of feeling like there are no good men out there! Even in jest, it is a toxic mental state when we discredit or downplay the existance of men who are admirable, interesting, intelligent, funny, helpful, faithful, an in other ways inspiring. Your perception creates your reality. The more we allow one another to focus on the negative, the more we will see ourselves surrounded by the negative. You see how unproductive this behaviour is, right? Ultimately, your perception will tell you that all men are manipulative, untrustworthy, and cruel. Does that seem like a good way to view the world? I didn't think so.

Hence, my love of Hunk O'The Month.

You know why I love my man-friends? They show me that there ARE men who are kind, generous, thoughtful, and genuine. They prove to me that, while that last guy may have treated me with little regard, there are still men who respect and honour women for their integrity, virtue, and intelligence. They are human. They have feelings. They have fears and desires and goals. They love and appreciate women for who we are. Maybe we're not dating, but that doesn't mean we don't love and appreciate each other.
In acknowledging the good men in my life, I am inspired to know that the ones who weren't so good are not the norm; only a blip. A blip that made a mistake by not living up to the faith and trust I had in him. And as I see my good men-friends in their relationships and marriages, I know that one day I will find someone as genuinely wonderful as MY friends, and he will actually want to be more than just another shoulder to lean on.

Girl Talk.

I know I poke fun at the gents quite a bit- everyone knows a good manboy story makes for good literature- but may I address the ladies of this world for a moment?

Can you all just shut up?

I mean, seriously. Do you really think anyone cares about the history of your hair colour, the 5 lbs of fluctuation that's undetectable to the rest of the world, or that guy who doesn't know you like him because you've never bothered to talk to him? Do you think you're impressing anyone by "talk(ing) about people you don't even know and talk(ing) about places that you don't even go?" It makes you look like a braggart and an idiot. Even worse- it makes you boring. (Cardinal sin.)

Recently some friends went on a trip where they could have made a few new friends...But one girl just could not stop talking about herself! Between her implants, fake tan, terrible attitude, whining, the ridiculous amount of references to posh places she obviously had never attended and people she obviously was not close friends with; no one was interested in getting to know her. I felt a little sad for this girl; clearly she needed attention and didn't feel she would get it on her own accord. But does she really have to broadcast her low self-esteem on the airwaves when the very appearance of her made it obvious? Honestly! Gossip is dangerous, damaging, and desperate. We'd like to pretend it's sensational, but- let's be real here- if I don't know them, why do I want to hear about their personal business?
I grew up with Run DMC on our family boom box. This song always hit a chord with me then because I felt it was a lesson to be learned on how NOT to be annoying. Hearing it again, now, I love the wisdom in not just the words, but the message. Talking in order to boast of oneself or to create drama or sensation by using other people's lives is selfish and damaging. It makes what you have to say empty noise full of useless words. And it's kind of disgusting, piggish behavior that only self-indulgent yuppies participate in.

So next time you talk to someone and you feel like you're not getting a response from them- don't panic and fill the air with sounds of your own voice. Ask THEM a question. Encourage THEM to talk. What's truly brilliant is that they suddenly find YOU interesting! And you'll come off looking wicked smart because you didn't actually have to think of anything to talk about- you can just throw the ball in their court to whatever topic you're interested in. Then your talking becomes more than merely idle chat. It becomes a conversation. And THAT is how you begin relationships where someone might actually care about what you have to say.

Better to be silent and appear the fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.

Speaking of Betrayals...

I just got a call from a blocked number. It was a girl asking who I was. "This is Farrah. Who is this?" And then she goes, "I was just going through my boyfriend's phone and your number is in it." I said, "Okay...is this about his medical equipment?" And then she's like, "Look, I read his text messages. And after this, he is single." (First of all, everyone knows I don't text. Secondly, last I checked, I wasn't dating anyone, so I think this dude is in the clear.) Then she calls me a bitch and hangs up on me.
2 minutes later:
O MY WORD.
She just called me back.
YELLING. At ME!!!
So I say, "Sweetie, seriously, I want to help you out- who is this guy?" And she's like, "It doesn't matter, because after tonight, he's single." And I say, "Well, because I'm not dating anyone, so I think you might have the wrong number and I'd hate for you to end something because of a mista-" and then she yells that she's dumping him, it's over, and I can f* him all I want.
WOW.
That was intense for a Monday afternoon.

Now, ladies, I understand that it is customary for many of you to peruse your boyfriend's cells/palms/a'la Little Black Book (one of the most embarrassing movies ever made). But please. Must we really jump to conclusions? I mean, I know for a fact that this poor girl is upset over nothing, because I don't text people, and I'm not dating anyone, and I am most definitely not associating with anyone who would be "f*ing me." I'm just not the type of girl to text, commit, or f*. So she's definitely got the wrong cell.

Actually, I'm having difficulty determining who is worse in this situation. The woman who is sneaking into her boyfriend's phone to spy on him, or the man who would illicit some sort of reason for his girlfriend to poke through his phone. Is she the crazy one, or has he simply driven her crazy? Personally, I feel rather sorry for the poor bastard. That girl really went ape on me. I can't even imagine what she must be like in person. To someone she knows. He won't even know what hit him. Because it certainly wasn't me.

Happy To Be-

The Relief Society Lesson on Sunday was so fantastic, I had so many thoughts, but kept quiet because the lesson was so well done. Still, I'd like to share with my sisters the feelings I've had on this subject matter.

It's true that we are surrounded by toxic matters: insecurity, comparisons, jealousy, envy, self-esteem challanges, etc. What we need to remember as women is that we are our own support network. We cannot allow Satan to get us down about ourselves (I mean, who the hell is HE anyway?) By helping each other out, and bypassing the negatives we may feel, we strengthen our own sisterhood; we strengthen ourselves.

It's easy, I think, to see those in need of support,and it is clear that they need our help, but especially in this era of superficiality, it takes more insight to conciously reach out to those who are not in such obvious need. I had a dear friend in college, a roommate, sit alone on Friday nights because no one ever called her. She was beautiful, but in addition to that, she was the most kind, generous, and thoughtful person I have ever had the honor of knowing. She confided in me that, until I lived with her, she always sat alone at church because no one offered to sit by her. She hated Relief Society because it was so painfully obvious she was alone. She was in that ward for four years! I was appalled that such a wonderful person could be so ignored. And then it occoured to me: Everyone else thought she was okay. Everyone else thought she was pretty and fun and so she must certainly have a lot of friends! andboyfriends. In fact, she did have a boyfriend in another state who did not treat her very well. She cried often. Besides me, she had one other friend who was married, and rarely around. Guys were not interested in her because they knew she was dating someone, and girls, well, I could never quite explain how she had consistently been passed over when she could have been surrounded by girlfriends.

There's a book I love, and I know I've told you to buy it before, but I'll tell you all again; it's called, "Kiss My Tiara." It is sassy and hilarious and very useful. It's all about being a woman and being okay with being everything that a woman is. Along with that is the idea that it's OKAY to have a woman's body, that it is much more beautiful a shape than any hungry-looking model who may as well be a 12 year old boy in some Calvin Klein ad. One of my favourite songs is "Video Girl" by India Arie. Every time I listen to it, I want to run out and give the words to the Relief Society and make all of us recite it at the top of our lungs. "I'm not the average girl in the videos. My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes. No matter what I'm wearing I will always be, India Arie." She goes on about looking in the mirror, "And I know my Creator don't make no mistakes on me-every freckle on my face is where it's supposed to be...my hips, my thighs, my lips, my eyes, I'm loving what I see!"

Do you know that 3 out of 4 women has an eating disorder at some point in her life? That's horrible! I could not fathom that statistic, so I began asking my college roommates, friends, and neighbors. Sure enough, I was the ONLY woman I knew who had never been on a diet, and that statistic (in regards to eating disorders) was disturbingly true. It is not just about body image. It is about the striving for perfection and trying to control yourself in an uncontrollable world. It is not so much about being thin as feeling a need for perfection. There is an amazing lecture given by Elder Russell M Nelson over ten years ago- that the commandment to "be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father in Heaven is perfect" is not so much about flawless perfection, but about enduring to the end and finishing this life through the resurrection. But that definition came out years ago, and look at us. We're still hungry!

So what to do? What to do? For one, we could start talking to one another. And I don't mean that mopey comparison-type talking; I mean honest-to-goodness "let's be generous with complimenting each other" talking. I give all kinds of props to the woman wearing that, "O no she di'nt!" outfit-because no matter what she may look like to me, she is clearly proud of herself. And why shouldn't we all strut around like that? We are strong and we are healthy. That, in and of itself, is something to be happy about. And it never hurts to notice someone else's goodness, either. Asking someone about hair products is one thing; being able to appreciate them for their humor, intelligence, kindness- well, those are reasons you'd actually want to keep talking with her and have her over for dinner next Sunday.

As for taking care of ourselves, I recently discovered a key that must have been helping me along subconciously this whole time. I am a huge Neo-classic/Renaissance Art fan. You know those pictures of the big, beautiful, glowing women? Get those up on your walls! Tear down Kate Moss (bless her heart) and start loving the curve of your belly, the strength of your thighs, and the shape of your body! We're beautiful! And with the right lighting, We're ART!!! And if you can't appreciate yourself for yourself, remember this: What we say to ourselves in the mirror, our daughters will be repeating as well. I trust that none of us wants to hear an eight year old proclaim they need to diet, but over 40% of them do. Please. For the sake of your daughters. Be kind to yourselves.

Respect yourselves. Besides, Satan would love to have power over you. He doesn't deserve it. Don't give him that. Every time you stand up for yourself, you strike him down.
And it always feels good to kick a little @%*.