Someone's Feeling Lovey-Dovey

The surest way to a person's heart is through a karaoke microphone.

Well, it is called a "love seat."

Man, I sure am drawing a lot of "boy meets girl" sorts of lovey-dovey nonsense, nowadays. I wonder if that means something?

Oh, it does. It means I've been watching too much TV.

A Song For Your Wedding

Every time I think I'm out of single friends to get married, someone else ties the knot. Just recently, three of my best friends got hitched, and so I should take this opportunity to say "Congratulations" to Emma, Kristen, and Larissa, some of the greatest people I know.

Kristen's wedding was last night, and it was pretty fantastic. I spent a good portion of the evening rubbing my cheeks, which started to ache from all the smiling. I don't like smiling - it's hard on the face-meat. She and her hubby had their first dance to Frank Sinatra's "Cheek to Cheek," and it was a nice moment, with the bride all beaming and smiling and the groom all "Oh, the things I do for you."

So, of course, while they had their moment, I spent my time trying to come up with THE MOST INAPPROPRIATE SONG one could pick for their first dance.

My first thought was... well, I guess my first thought was actually "I Can't Get Started" by Ella Fitzgerald, but I just thought of that cuz they put it on that one episode of Gilmore Girls. Oh, don't act like you don't know which one I'm talking about.

My first original thought, though, was "Ms. Jackson" by Outkast - an admittedly awesome song, but hardly first-dance material. I mean, the beat's nice, but it's not the kind of slow-dancing romantic jam that couples tend to want to sway to. Basically, if you picked out "Ms. Jackson" for your wedding, you'd be doing so PRECISELY because of how terribly the subject matter of the song would match with the setting. Or maybe the groom just REALLY doesn't like the mother-in-law. I dunno.

Billy Idol's "White Wedding" is another solid candidate. It's a great song, and I could see a couple picking it up if they just really liked the beat and didn't mind the fact that all the references to shotguns would probably cause people to talk during the spotlight dance. "Nothing pure in this world," indeed.

Then, of course, I thought of "Me and Mrs. Jones" by Billy Paul (NOT Michael Buble!), which is probably the world's most famous song about adultery. This song's a great slow jam, and comes across as pretty romantic, too - provided you don't listen too closely to the words. And that's EXACTLY the sort of thing I'm looking for.

So that's probably it - "Me and Mrs. Jones" is the most inappropriate song anyone could possibly want to dance to at their wedding. Unless there's a worse one out there... somewhere... floating around in the mind of some poor soul who hates weddings even more than I do. If that person happens to be reading my blog, please share!

Otherwise, all the best go out to Kristen, Larissa, and all the other happy newlyweds out there.

A Question of Timing

So I had a talk with a friend of mine recently who's in a bit of a troubled relationship. My friend thinks they may be at the point in the relationship where they need to... umm... re-evaluate their relationship. However, as much as my friend needs this closure, they aren't sure if their partner is ready to have "the talk."

Back when I was in college, I dated a girl for a couple of months. Things went well for a while, but I eventually got the feeling that I needed to end things. Sadly, around that same time, my girlfriend's nephew died. I felt like it would be a bad time to end the relationship, so, not wanting to add more emotional strain to her life, I opted to keep the relationship going. When I saw her again, she told me she thought it was time to end the relationship, and we broke up. Not even two days had passed since her nephew died, yet she knew that the breakup was the best thing for us.

From this experience (and this is what I told my friend), I learned that the right thing to do is the right thing to do, regardless of timing. Even though I thought I shouldn't break up with my college sweetheart, it turns out that it WAS time for both of us to move on, and we both knew it. My friend, on the other hand, says that they would prefer to wait until the right time, as doing the right thing at the wrong time can have a negative impact.

So I guess I don't have an answer to the issue - as this is probably another one of those "case by case basis" things. What do y'all think here?

Romance in the Dark

Forgive my penchant for the dramatic and let me run a thought by y'all.

So it seems a lot of people fall in love in the dark - we go to candle-lit restaurants, dance under disco balls, and talk in the park at night. I've heard, once upon a time, that the dark tricks the eye into dilating, which sends the other party a signal that there's some romantic interest. Same thing goes for makeup - eye makeup makes is attractive on a woman because it makes her eyes appear to be larger, again demonstrating interest in the other person.[citation needed]

I used to think that the dark and the eyeliner was just a ploy - a way of covering up or glossing over the physical imperfections of the other party. As a result, I sometimes joke that I'm going to ask the woman I love to marry me at 8:00 A.M. on a Saturday morning before she's had a chance to put on her make-up. That way, if I REALLY loved her, I'd know because I'd still want to go through with it.

In case you didn't know, I'm sometimes a terrible person.

Anyway, I'm starting to rethink my stance on this particular issue. Darkness doesn't cover up physical "imperfection," but it removes physical appearance from the table as an issue. Conversation in the dark - on a ballroom floor, or wherever - gives you an opportunity to look past the outside and get a glimpse at what's inside.

Just a thought.

Why I'm Still Single 34

I don't know why. If I did, it'd be explicable.

(Still love Enchanted, though)

The Ballad of Braddy and Katie

CONCLUSION - A SPECTACULAR EMOTIONAL BELLYFLOP

(read Part One)

(read Part Two)

(read Part Three)

WARNING: Just... just... be careful out there.

So Katie and I dated for about a year and a half and... well, it was about the strangest courtship a fellow could ever have.

We started officially "dating" in December; however, our first real date as a couple didn't happen until January (something which, I think, is pretty common for high-school couples but apparently unnacceptable in adult relationships). We spent all our free time at school together, usually cuddling in some creepy corner of the hallway. We weren't, like, actively making out or anything. At least, not for several months...

We had been dating for nearly three months by the time we had our first kiss. Katie invited me to go with her to a St. Patrick's Day parade, after which she drove me back home. We shared a big, sloppy kiss in the front seat of her parents' van. I distinctly remember having to wipe my mouth off afterwards. The neighbor kid watched us and laughed at me as I got out of the car.

After the kiss, I went and sat in the big armchair in my parents' basement. Dazed, I didn't move for the rest of the night.

Our actual dating habits were... a bit off, as we felt limited by the LDS church's standards to "avoid going on frequent dates with the same person." Now, Katie and I both strongly believed in living by that standard, even though we planned on dating regularly. We decided the best compromise would be to continue to date each other, but to also go on dates with other people.

For the record, this is a TERRIBLE idea.


See, Katie, being a friendly, pretty, blonde girl, got asked out ALL the time. Me, I got asked out... almost never, and I never really ASKED anyone else out, seeing as how I already HAD a girlfriend. I'll tell you, our little "not-exclusive dating" experiment added a whole GALLON of jealousy to our little lovey-dovey brew.

Our relationship progressed, if you can call it progression, in this fashion for over a year.

The following April, I got involved in a production of Anne of Green Gables: The Musical, which is one of the worst shows I've ever seen. I listened with interest as one of my castmates related a story about how he, at an earlier age, was in a different production of the same show. He suddenly felt, during the course of the show, that the relationship he had with his then-girlfriend was going nowhere, so he broke it off.

And... that's about the end of the story. I broke up with Katie (ironically enough on my friend Garret's birthday) for what can only be described as "no good reason." A tremendous anticlimax, I know.

About a year later, after we all graduated from high school, I attended Katie's wedding reception. I still remember seeing Katie, in her white dress, give me a big smile as I approached. I got a huge hug and an excited exclamation of "You came!"

I brought her a gift, as well: a deck of playing cards I bought from the local grocery store. At the time, I thought the gift would be sentimental. Now I realize it was just stupid.

(Side note: About two years ago, I went on a date with a girl, not realizing at the time she was Katie's husband's sister.)

Since the wedding, I've seen Katie maybe two or three times, as we still have mutual friends. One time, I spent the entire evening playing games with Katie's kids. The most recent time, we saw each other from across the street at a Fourth of July parade. We both promptly looked in the opposite direction. There's been zero contact since.

The Ballad of Braddy and Katie

PART THREE - A SAVAGE GARDEN CHRISTMAS

(read Part One)

(read Part Two)

WARNING - The following account contains scenes of intense adolescent awkwardness. Reader discretion is advised.

As much as I tried to keep my crush on Katie a secret, word got out and around - probably because my poker face has about as many cracks in it as an egg under the foot of a Russian dancer. I even got a lawnmower-shaped card at the Grasscutters concert, wishing me luck, not with the show, but with my courtship with Katie.

Right after the Grasscutters concert, we entered the Christmas season. Now, I've always thought that Valentine's Day is the biggest joke in the world, and Christmas is the true season of romance. I melt a little when I hear Christmas-themed love songs, whether it was hearing my junior high crush sing "Merry Christmas Baby" or watching Savage Garden perform "Last Christmas" during a television concert.

(I have mentioned that I have terrible taste in music, right? Well, in my defense, I DO think "Santa Baby" sucks.)

Just before school let out for winter break, I decided to make a grand romantic gesture and bought her a Christmas present. Having no idea what she would actually WANT, I bought her a teddy bear.


She liked it. I even got a hug for it - which means I got the better present.

That night, my high school's chamber choir had a show at Thanksgiving Point. My buddy Michael, also a member of the choir, had a twenty-four hour birthday party planned that would start after the show. We'd made arrangements to leave straight from Thanksgiving Point to go back to his place. I expected it would be a good weekend, and I was totally right, but a bit surprised at exactly how well it turned out.

See, Katie was at Thanksgiving Point as well. On a date. With Dwayne.

Not that it mattered WHO she was on the date with. She spent most of her time talking to ME.

Do you see this, Dwayne? You don't? That's surprising, because it's right IN YOUR FACE!

After I spent a good hour or so talking to Katie, I put on a heckuva good show (you know, for a chamber choir), then it was off to Michael's for a night of junk food and video games (cuz, you know, teenager). The day of his birthday, Michael invited all his girlfriends (and his "girl friends" - the distinction is necessary, because Mike was a player) for cake and ice cream.

Mike had invited Katie, so I was able to get the full story on what happened on her date with Dwayne. After the concert, they went for a drive, along with Dwayne's friend, Robby. At some point on the road, Robby decided it would be fun to pull a prank on the people outside the car. So... SHOOP! Off went his pants.

Less than impressed with Dwayne's choice of friends, Katie decided to go with me. We started dating at Michael's birthday party, where I, having no idea how to correctly cuddle with a girl, promptly draped myself over her shoulders like a lurpy scarf.

Trust me, over the next year and a half, we got MUCH better at the cuddling thing.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Ballad of Braddy and Katie

PART TWO - THE INVISIBLE COURTSHIP

(read Part One)

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING*: High school can cause unnecessary melodrama and unfortunate fashion decisions. What you consider "cool" as a teenager will cause mild to severe embarrassment in later years.

Summer vacation rolled around, and, suddenly, I lost pretty much all contact with the girl I went on my very first date with. I spent most of the summer doing janitorial work at Lake Ridge Elementary School, but, every now and again, I'd spend a Saturday night at local church dances. I went to each of these dances, hoping I'd run into Katie again. I think she actually did go to one of them, so, naturally, I spent the whole night avoiding her.


I also think I may have had a nervous throw-up (cuz, you know, teenager).

When the school year started up again, I went out for the fall musical, Li'l Abner (a surprisingly excellent show that deserves to be better known than it is). Much to my delight, Katie auditioned for the show as well. We both made chorus parts, which meant I had another place to accidentally run in to my dream girl and pretend I barely remembered her.

The one drawback to being in Li'l Abner, though, was that my part REQUIRED me to grow out my facial hair as long as I could. I went three months without shaving. Nowadays, that'd give me a pretty substantial and rugged beard, but back then, my follicle ferocity wasn't NEARLY where it is now. I looked... like a patchwork badger. It was sad.

About this time, word got out among my peers that I had my sights set on some girl - but no one knew who (unless they had eyes). I'd long cultivated an image of disinterest in dating - I just wasn't interested in anyone - so my friends all thought it was a pretty big deal. I still felt like it needed to be a secret.

Eventually, my buddy Garret caught Katie and me having a real conversation. He said nothing, but he stood there for five minutes, looking back and forth between me and her with his eyebrows raised. Finally, I pulled him aside, where I shoved him against the wall and threatened to kill him if he told anyone (cuz, you know, teenager).

So I thought things were going well... but then, HE showed up.

His name was Dwayne. He was a member of the football team, a brilliant tenor, and he played Lonesome Polecat in the show (meaning he actually got to shave). He set his sights on Katie, and I lost pretty much all chance of being with the girl I liked.

Closing night of the show, I pulled Katie aside and told her that I really liked her. She was kind about it, but she showed a bit of confusion. I didn't know quite what to make of her expression until the cast party that night, when she left the restaurant with Dwayne's arm around her shoulder. Needless to say, I was crushed. I went home that night and sat in my room with the lights off, playing to Savage Garden's "Gunning Down Romance" to myself on repeat.

We later had another talk, where Katie admitted that she liked me, too, but she also had feelings for Dwayne. She decided not to date either of us, for the time being, but to continue being friendly with everyone. I was totally OK with this decision.

The fickle high-school popularity fates then showered me with some favor. Garret had recently formed a small singing group with a couple of other guys from choir, and they needed an extra bass. They asked me to join up with them, and, soon, I was a member of the a capella quintet The Grasscutters (the name comes from an old slang term for stealing someone else's girl).

Right before the show, the other Grasscutters took me aside for a bit of a makeover. I shaved the beard, got my hair cut short, and added some blonde highlights (that really came out looking like leopard spots). By the time that curtain went up, I was hot, awesome, and ready to doo-whop to "In the Still of the Night" like nobody's business.

Katie sat front and center, and Dwayne was nowhere in sight.

TO BE CONTINUED

*The above warning was not actually issued by the Surgeon General.

The Ballad of Braddy and Katie

PART ONE - THE FIRST DATE

During the blog round this week, I’ve noticed a noteworthy number of posts about dating – even considering 90% of the blogs I keep tabs on are from single Mormons who spend most of their time wondering when their Prince Charming will come save them (or Princess Charming – it’s an equal-opportunity fairy tale here).

Despite how unbelievably sexy I am, I tend to get depressed when I think too hard about my dating history, partially because it’s a saga full of missteps and embarrassments, and partially because, to this day, the most successful relationship I’ve ever had was the very first girl I ever dated.

Our story begins – as all great adventures do – in Ms. Daley’s Advanced Placement European History during my sophomore year at Cyprus High School. It was spring, that magical time of year when a young man’s fancy turns from thoughts of beating the crap out of people as Samus Aran in Super Smash Brothers towards love. Her name was Katie, a pretty blonde girl in overalls who drew dragons on her notes with colored pencils, and I was lovestruck.


I’d just barely turned sixteen, the landmark age for young Mormons when we’re encouraged to start dating, and I had absolutely no idea how to go about the process (still don’t, I guess, but that’s the subject for another saga). Luckily(?), my friend Melissa thought she could help out by setting us up on a date. I’ll admit to being grateful for the assist at the time, because I was finding it a little difficult to flirt while the class discussed the significance of the Defenestration of Prague.

At this point, I should probably tell you that Melissa had been dating her boyfriend, Doug, ever since junior high. She was pretty much engaged at sixteen… actually, that may be literally engaged. They got married next year. Really, by this point, her entire purpose in socializing was to pair off all her friends.

If you want to know why I’m so opposed to getting set up on dates, the history starts here.

Anyway, my very first date was an all-day affair on a hot Saturday in May. The group of us piled into a van – me, Katie, Melissa, Doug, and… umm… Doug’s whole family. We spent the whole day at Lagoon, a fairly sorry little amusement park. We rode rides, ate overpriced food, and waited in long lines to use the bathroom. I’m pretty sure at one point I actually got on one knee and proposed to Katie – as a joke (cuz, you know, teenager).

Lagoon has this ride called the Rocket, which takes the group up about a bazillion feet and drops it. I sat next to Katie, who acted like she was totally freaked out. I decided to be comforting or whatever, so I reached to pat her hand. She promptly grabbed mine and held on to tightly until the Rocket reached the top of the tower. I’m pretty sure my heart kept floating up.

(Looking back from ten years in the future, I’m pretty sure Katie faked the whole “Oh, I’m so scared” routine to get me to make a move. Well played.)

During the ride home, Katie and I sat in the back seat with Doug and Melissa. About halfway home, I took a thing of lip balm from Katie and played “Keep Away” with it (cuz, you know, teenager). She, of course, reached out and tried to grab it back. We wrestled with it for a bit, and, when she managed to take it back, my hand landed on her knee. There it rested… for the remainder of the forty-five minute drive.

That would be a good sign, except I wasn’t actually putting a move on her. I didn’t actually CUP the knee (and that’s probably the strangest phrase I’ve written all week). My hand just kinda… sat there. For over a half hour.

See, I’ve got this attitude that any physical contact not initiated by the girl is likely to be unwanted, so I leave myself a little bit of wiggle room and deniability (“Oh, that was YOUR knee? My bad.”). I still hold this attitude as an adult – although its execution is usually less spectacularly awkward than the above, but not much.

All awkwardness aside, I think we can all safely say that the first date was a roaring success, right? Kick started my first relationship and all that?

Well, as it turns out, Katie and I wouldn’t officially become a couple for another seven months…

TO BE CONTINUED

Flirty Chicken

Which one will blink first?

Hey there, are you single? Do you enjoy the thrill of the chase, but you just can't bring yourself to cross the finish line? Or maybe you need to brush up on your "come hither skills"? Here's a game for you.

"Flirty Chicken" is played with two people. One player initiates a flirt - subtly, casually - and the second person escalates. The two players continue to flirt back and forth, gradually increasing the intensity of their flirtations - maybe you'll take hold of her hand, or lean in to whisper in his ear.

First one to blush loses.

If you both wind up making out, you both lose "Flirty Chicken," but you win something else...

Oh, and in case you were curious:

All the Single Ladies

Now put your hands up!

Here's a post I never planned on writing...

My schedule doesn't allow me to blog NEARLY as much as I used to, but I've embarked on a rather lengthy conversation with a good friend who is a little distraught that she received some rather harsh criticism after voicing her opinion on what she wants from a man. I just had to share some of my thoughts.

My friend's friend (THAT'S an appellation that'll never get cumbersome) thinks that women limit themselves if they refuse to ever ask out a guy on the first date. Men, he says, only ask women out if they are physically attractive. A woman who expects a man to treat her like a princess has her head in the clouds of a Disney cartoon, because NO MAN is that perfect.

Now, I'm a guy who doesn't like dating... at all. I find it awkward, uncomfortable, and... I think I've even used the word "unnatural" to describe it. Truthfully (and here's a frank confession for you), I refrain from dating usually because I have issues with my own self esteem. I don't want to get into that now - and I'm doing much better anyway, thankyouverymuch.

Do men only ask out women they find physically attractive? Probably, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Physical attraction is NOT lust, although I think we tend to confuse the two. Lust is carnal, based solely on a sexual view of the body, while attraction can be built by several other observations: a kind face or attitude, a happy demeanor, or a confident stride can ALL come across as "physically" attractive and bring in the type of man that'll treat a girl right.

Often, men (myself included) won't ask women out because we don't feel like we're good enough for them, and we secretly hope that the lofty object of our desires will make the first move so we don't have to. That, to me, indicates a problem with the man's self-perception, a problem which, if not corrected, will prevent either the man or the woman from finding happiness in any relationship.

I believe there is a reason behind the current concept of "chivalry" as a dating practice. Maybe it DOES feel a bit outdated (and, perhaps, a bit sexist), but still it seems to be effective. A good friend of mine has pointed out that there are certain unalterable principles to dating that, if you follow them, you are rewarded with love. One of those principles sadly (for me) appears to be letting the man take the lead in the relationship. It sucks, it's difficult, but that single factor forces a man to change his attitude towards women in general (and one lucky woman in particular).

That's the difference between a relationship and a hook-up, if you ask me. The latter is just a way to let off steam. A true relationship, though, will force both partners to be better. It works to a woman's advantage to demand a man treat her right.

I have (yet another cryptically referenced) friend who constantly got involved in relationships with guys who are BAD for her. Like, actively destructive to her spirit and self-esteem. She refuses to let go of these relationships, though, because she thinks - is CONVINCED - that it is better for her to be in an unhappy, potentially-abusive relationship than it is to be alone.

So, I guess my message is this: All you single ladies who say that you'd rather be happy alone than unhappy with a man who doesn't treat you with quite the respect you deserve have my unwavering support in that decision.

Just don't expect me to ask you out, cuz "Gosh you're way-too-good for me!"

How to Become "Something More": Six Secrets of Love from Beanworld

This is Beanish.

He's an artist.

He's in love with the sun.

...and that's pretty much all you need to know about him.

As I've said before, I love Larry Marder's Beanworld. In a medium that seems to attract primarily overblown superhero drama or self-important autobiographies, Beanworld stands out as a delightful, imaginative world filled with stories that are as wholesome as the seeds it's named after.

Beanish's courtship with Dreamishness is one of the central plot points of the series, and the lessons he learns as their relationship progresses feel like genuine life-lessons that can readily be applied to real-world romances.

Now, I know I'm late for Valentine's Day, but let's just say that if you keep the following points in mind, you might not spend Valentine's night watching reruns of Lost on DVD.



1 - Love at First Sight Exists

I think we've all experienced this - you see him or her from across the room, and BAM! You're obsessed. Now, this doesn't mean that you're going to stay together forever - as we'll see, love takes a lot of work.



2 - Games are Inevitable

In every relationship, trust has to be EARNED. To that end, sometimes you'll have to prove that you're worthy of that trust. Unfortunately, that means that you'll have to jump through some hoops before your crush is willing to let you be a part of his or her life.



3 - Your Relationship is a Secret

Once you earn your loved one's trust, you have to keep it. Now that's not to say that you can't let anyone know that you're IN love. Rather, you should know that there are many, many aspects of your relationship that don't need to be shared with everyone.

Your significant other will thank you (as will your single friends).




4 - Real Love Grows Slowly

Easily my favorite quote from the series.

As you spend time with a person, they will come to feel more and more strongly for you. This depth of feeling takes time to cultivate, so LET IT. There's no need to rush things.



5 - Love Inspires Growth

When someone does fall in love with you, hopefully they have fallen in love with who you ARE. The best way to thank them for that love then is to make sure that they're still in love with who you'll BECOME.

You don't change to make the other person happy; however, the good you see in the other person - those aspects of their character that make them attractive to you - make you WANT to be better.

And finally...



6 - Some Days are Just Bad Days

I think that one stands on it's own.

Love and Anger: A Melodrama in Five Acts

Our stage is set - a crowded room full of young men and women in their finest - tuxedos and little black dresses. Dim orange light radiates from hanging paper lanterns.

[Cue Music.]

The crowd starts to dance wildly, arms waving, feet pounding. The only thing louder than the song is the laughter.

A young man enters from downstage. He wears a three-piece brown suit - a nice look, but completely out of place. This is our protagonist.

[Cue Applause]

The song ends. The crowd parts. From across the room, our hero sees a beautiful young woman in an elegant red dress - she also looks out of place. Their eyes meet, and she smiles.

[Cue Awws]


Flashback.

The setting is the same, but the lights are brighter. The same young people that were dressed so nicely at the dance are now dressed in casual attire.

Enter our hero, holding hands with the girl.

[Cue Applause]

The two talk for a while. We can't hear what they are saying, but they are smiling and laughing. She reaches over and touches his arm.

The lights slowly dim, but our hero and the girl remain in spots. As the light tightens around them, the two embrace and kiss.

[Cue Awws]


We return to the dance. Our hero returns the girl's smile, but it is strained.

[Cue Music]

The girl reaches out her hand. Our hero, unsure at first, walks through the crowd and takes it.

The two dance. He spins her under his arm and steps around her. For only a second, a small distance separates them. He then reaches out and catches her hand and pulls her back in.

The crowd around them has stopped dancing. A circle forms around them as they dance.

She turns around and steps back into him, his arms wrapped around her. They separate again, clinging to each other just by their fingertips.

Our hero pulls the girl in to a dip, and the song ends. We see the two rise and separate.

Neither is smiling.


The dancers applaud.

Embarrassed, our hero steps to the front. The girl follows. The two stand facing each other at the front of the stage. Again, we can't hear what is being said.

Our hero reaches out his arms as he talks.

The girl shakes her head.

Our hero turns his back to the girl.

The girl walks up behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Our hero walks away, and the girl stands alone at the front of the stage.

[Cue Ohhs]

She watches our hero leave, then turns and rejoins the dancers.


We find our hero sleeping fitfully. He wakes up. Realizing that everything that happened was just a dream, he dresses quickly and heads to work.

We see him now on his lunch break, writing an update on his blog about how much dreams suck and stuff like that.

How to Date an English Major

People often ask me (the successful romantic bookworm that I am) how to properly romance the English major. Indeed, dating an English major is a difficult proposition, as English majors are peculiar, temperamental creatures. Luckily, they are also creatures of a particular taste, and that taste is easily catered to. Follow these simple guidelines, and you will soon attract an English major to call your own.

1 – Get a Favorite Author

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that English majors read a lot. English majors learned to read voraciously growing up. Experiencing the lives of fictional characters somehow helped them cope with the fact that their fathers never hugged them because they weren’t athletes or cheerleaders. If you want to connect with your English major, you will need to learn to talk books with them.

When selecting your favorite author, proceed with caution. Genre writers are not appropriate choices for favorite authors. The best authors do not write fantasy, horror, science fiction, romance, or mystery. Rather, they write about lonely old men who play dominoes while staring out the window at their attractive young neighbors, then die.

You should never pick an author whose works have been adapted to major Hollywood films. People like J.K. Rowling, Michael Crichton, Dan Brown, and Stephen King may create works of fiction that are easily accessible to a broad audience, but this democratization of literature detracts from the appeal of living in an ivory tower of superiority that so many English majors delight in.

If you choose a favorite author from those you studied in high school, never select the dead white males. When your English major date hears you say your favorite author is Ernest Hemingway, they will assume you read the Cliff’s Notes to The Old Man and the Sea once. You’ll be branded immediately as a faker. You’re better off picking a dead white woman, like Willa Cather, or a dead black man, like Langston Hughes. If your favorite author is a dead woman of a non-white minority, prepare yourself for a downpour of English major kisses, for they will fall in love with you automatically.

2 – Develop a Tolerance for Stupid Ideas

There are two types of English majors: those who say they want to write the great American novel, and those who lie. Every English major has an idea for the best story that anyone has ever read, and, given the opportunity, they will ramble on for hours and hours about the intricacies of the plot that they have all mapped out in their heads. Now only if they could find the time to write…

If you ever inadvertently ask an English major to describe his or her novel, don’t panic. Be prepared to listen, smile politely, and ask questions to show that you’re interested. Basically, do everything you can to keep the English major focused on the brilliance of their plot, while you covertly text a friend to call you with the terrible news that your cat has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

Whatever you do, be sure to bow out gracefully, and never point out that their idea is another tired rehashing of The Lord of the Rings. English majors hate that.

3 – Sit Back and Enjoy the Riffing

English majors are notorious for talking during movies. If you’re lucky, you’ll find an individual who will simply content themselves with making the occasional snide remark. These comments are usually short, don’t lead to lengthy discussions, and they can actually be funny from time to time.

Unfortunately, there are those English majors who think their seven-page analysis of Kate Chopin’s The Awakening (complete with annotated bibliography) qualifies them to scrutinize every scene in every film with a keen metaphorical scalpel. Often, these individuals can’t keep their findings to themselves and will share – loudly – with everyone in the room. Plot holes you were once ignorant of will trip you up, Christ figures will populate plots like rabbits, and you will never be able to watch O Brother, Where Art Thou? without thinking of "The Odyssey."

If you’re one of those people who enjoy watching movies in silence, you can still date an English major. You just may have to actually talk to him or her (see #2).

4 – Be Prepared to Learn Your Grammar

Contrary to popular belief, English majors don’t talk solely about grammar when they congregate. However, they DO talk about grammar a lot. Specifically, they talk about how much they dislike people that use poor grammar. If you write your English major crush a note that opens with the line, “I think your pretty,” you can kiss that love match good-by. Therefore, it’s imperative that you learn:

• the difference between “there,” “they’re,” and “their.”
• the proper placement of terminal punctuation in relationship to quotation marks.
• the difference between an adjective and adverb.
• how to end a run-on sentence.
• not to split infinitives
• how to avoid mixed metaphors

You may be tempted to break grammatical rules ironically. Don’t. It doesn’t matter how provocatively you dangle your participles. It’s a huge turn-off.

5 – Don’t Mix Opinions

Like most people, English majors have strong and occasionally irrational opinions. While dating your English major, you are more than welcome to have opinions that differ from theirs. Your opinions aren’t wrong, they’re just… otherly right to the English major’s. Your opinions and theirs will occupy separate spheres. All will be well if the two never meet.

You may from time to time find yourself in disagreement with an English major. If you choose to bring your differing opinion up, remember what happens when matter and anti-matter come in contact. After you’ve spoken, don’t be surprised if your English major explodes.

In the end, it may be wisest to keep your opinions to yourself. True, you may have to seethe for a while inwardly, but in the long run you can be secure in your self-restraint.

Just follow these simple steps, and you’ll have an English major of your very own for the rest of your life. Keep the love alive by serving them a candle-lit dinner on your anniversary and reading the most provocative passages from Strunk and White’s Elements of Style, and every now and again, letting them proofread your emails before you send them.

Best of luck in your five-page double-spaced and properly-formatted relationship!

Confessions: Wedding Fantasy

I tried to find a good wedding picture, but everything I saw on Google Image search was so cliche and run-of-the-mill that I couldn't really pick it.

Hmm... maybe THAT'S why I'm still single.

1 - At one wedding I attended with some friends, we saw a bride and groom getting their pictures taken.

"Check it out," I said, "that bride totally has her hand in her husband's back pocket."

"Oh, man," my friend said. "I can't WAIT until you get married and that happens to you."

"That'll never happen to me."

"Why? You're bride won't want to touch you?"

"No, man, she won't have any arms. I'm gonna marry a torso."

2 - I HATE wedding receptions. I planned for the longest time never to have one, so I wouldn't have to put up with all the hassle of planning it - not to mention the feuding in-laws.

(Yes, I KNOW that, traditionally, the groom's family doesn't plan the reception, but I've seen so much drama even from the GROOM'S side of things that I'd still rather abstain from the whole thing).

Well, I've recently changed my tune. When* I get married, I plan on having a reception - mainly just so I can get swag from my parents' friends.

3 - The one reception that I had genuine FUN at had a big dance. I plan on having a dance when* I get married.

And my bride WILL let me play Robert Palmer at my wedding or she's gonna have to find another sugar daddy!

*"if"

Hell and Heartache

I've already discussed the hell. Here's the heartache:

An old girlfriend of mine came and saw the show on Friday night. Now, my history with ex-girlfriends has been... I'll just say less than dignified. I'm on good terms with my exes, for the most part, and this particular girl more than most. Even so, any encounter with an ex tends to send me into a bit of an emotional tailspin.

Anyway, I was actually pretty glad to see her there - and more than a little sad that I had to reject her congratulatory hug due to the virus currently laying siege to my immune system. Yeah, that was a bit awkward (in fact, I barely got to hug ANY cute girls this weekend - what a rip!), but, all in all, I wound up just being glad that I had a friend there to support me.

Then I got in my car to drive home. Turned on the radio, and I hear this.

Finished listening to the song (what can I say? I kinda like Nelly) and changed the station, only to hear it again.

So, yeah, it was a bittersweet weekend (which is my new pick for the best band name I've ever heard).

To Prove I'm Not a COMPLETE-Love Hater...

...I'll share this.

So I was just walking down the hall behind a couple that I just happen to KNOW are engaged (don't ask how - it's just me being creepy again). Anway, they were walking, and their inside hands were swinging in synchronicity.

My thought:

"Seriously, why don't you two just hold hands? Your bodies obviously want to. It'll be cute."

Of course, if they had, I'd probably be writing something right now about how much I hate lovey-couples, sooooo... Maybe I am every bit a love-hater.

Sorry, Ladies, but your Prince is in Another Castle

My life seems to go in cycles: I go date-crazy for a month or two, then spend the next ten months alone, in my apartment, stewing in a vat of self-imposed loneliness and Ben and Jerry's.

Guess where I'm at in that cycle right now?

I've been getting hints - some subtle as silk, others obvious as a hand grenade on your front porch - that I need to start going on dates again. Not only that, but I need to improve the QUALITY of my dating - be more considerate, cleverer, and just all around more chivalrous.

Trouble is, I think I've dug down another layer on my cynical onion. When confronted with the idea of forming/pursuing new romantic experiences, I usually find myself thinking, "But I don't BELIEVE in love!"

Of course, every time THAT thought occurs to me, the following exchange plays out in my head:

Rosencrantz: I don't believe in it anyway.
Guildenstern: What?
Rosencrantz: England.
Guildenstern: Just a conspiracy of cartographers, then?

Am I really so cynical that I no longer believe in love, or am I simply railing against forces beyond my ken? You decide.

No, seriously, figure it out, cuz I don't care anymore.

Love, Sadness, and Other Nonsense

I hate ex-girlfriends. Anyone else with me on this?

I don’t hate them PERSONALLY. I think I’ve had good fortune in dating some fantastic people over the course of these last several years. Pretty much every girl I’ve ever dated has been something of a force for good in my life. But seeing them AFTER we’ve broken up… well, frankly, I’d often rather engage a patch of poison ivy in a close-proximity staring contest.

Again, here I have to clarify something – I do maintain contact with my ex-girlfriends. For the most part, I think, we’re friends, and I’m grateful for that friendship. Sometimes I get a case of the “whatmittabins,” but those pass like a twenty-four hour cold (with less mucus… usually).

It’s when the exes move on that things get tough. See, as a rule, I don’t like dating, and therefore I don’t do it very often. It usually takes me a LONG time to get over someone else. And if that someone else isn’t as averse to spending an evening or two with someone of the opposite sex that they barely know, chances are that someone else will move on a lot faster than I will.

I’ve had some doozy experiences. I dated a girl who was in a play with me once, who then went on to date one of the stagehands while we were still involved in the exact same production. I also dated a girl in college who, after we broke up, continued to bring her new beaus to hang out in the university in plain sight of the reference desk where I worked. And I’m not too proud to admit – I had a hard time with this. But I got over it, eventually, and all I have to say to these women is this: If you find someone who treats you better than I did and makes you happy, then GOOD ON YOU.

I find, though, that it doesn’t take a big dramatic experience to spark some of those special feelings of loneliness and neglect that come with encountering an ex. Sometimes all it takes is a glance.

Everyone has a “one that got away.” Fishermen do. Cops do. Sometimes morticians do. My “one that got away” was my high school sweetheart – and, as is so often the case with romances, she was one I let get away. I saw her at Saturday’s Fourth of July parade, with one child in her arms, and another scampering a couple of feet in front of her. I think we made eye contact, then she was gone – didn’t even say a word to each other. And still, I got that kind of cold pain that comes only when seeing one you used to love. Or getting punched in the chest by Frosty the Snowman.

It’s been now nine years since I broke up with this girl, and a glance still leaves me feeling cold. There’s a lot of power in a simple human connection – a single look, a brush of the fingers – that can totally rock one’s emotional world. Kinda surprising.

I’m sure there’s a poem in that somewhere. Of course, I’m also sure that poem’s probably already been written.

I've Been Thinking About You

Last night, I had a truly magical experience. I was sitting next to a girl that I’ve gotten to be quite fond of – although I don’t think she knew that. She leaned across me to say something to her friend sitting on just the other side of me. In doing so, she put her hand on my knee to balance herself. When she leaned back to her seat, she didn’t move her hand. I looked at her to find her looking at me, with a bit of fear and a lot of hope in her eyes. It was at that moment that I realized that she felt the same way about me that I felt about her, and we were finally ready to let each other know.

Then I woke up.

Yeah, I just pulled the “dream-fake-out” introduction on y’all. Sorry about that. But the dream got me thinking. Since I’ve already resolved to dedicate the year 2010 to personal growth and development, I may as well make the effort to reach that goal that I’ve longed to achieve, and that is true union with another human soul. I want – I should say need – to have that someone that I can tell anything to, that can accept me for who I am, and that can be herself around me.

There has really only been one person in my life who I’ve felt so deeply about. Sadly, through my short-sightedness and brash stupidity, I drove her away. I’ve felt so lonely ever since then, and now, perhaps too late, I realize that I lost one of the only truly good things in my life. I hope, though, that it’s NOT too late, and, in a final effort to rekindle the flame I neglected for so long, I here post a letter that I’ve written to my love, so that all the world may see and understand the depth of my emotion for her.

*ahem*

Dear Norah Jones,

I know it must be weird for you to hear from me after so long. I hope you are doing well. I apologize for the impersonal nature of this letter, but I feel that I have a lot to say, and I need time to compose my thoughts properly before I let you see them.

Harsh words have passed between us. When you released your most recent album, I started listening to it with the usual excitement and glee. However, upon hearing the single “Chasing Pirates,” I knew things were different. We have grown apart, you and I.

My delight turned to sorrow – perhaps, even, anger. Where was the Norah I knew, the one who serenaded me to sleep so many nights, who filled me so full of sweet sadness with her songs that I felt my chest would burst? She had gone, I thought, and the woman who stood in her place was only a hollow shell, made of corporate dollars and wishy-washy Neverland ideas.

I thought I couldn’t handle this new you, so I left. It’s been a cold, windy month since then. I’ve sat up many nights trying to find someone new. I listened to many singers, had a few flings, but, in the end, I realized that I was trying to replace you with another you – one that only existed in my imagination.

We’ve had our rough patches in the past – me with my clinginess, and you with that weird country phase you went through back in 2004 – but I think we came through them all right. I know that, somewhere inside you, the woman I fell in love with can still be found. She’s older, wiser, and better now than she used to be. And I still want to be with her.

Anyway, I hope you can forgive me for my foolishness, and accept me back, knowing that I am willing to change for you. I know it’s “Not Too Late” for us, and I wish you would feel the same way.

Will you take me back?

□ yes

□ no

Please leave this note on top of my desk on your way out of the classroom for recess.

Love, Stephen