Unspoken Expectations

"It's not real if you don't feel it.
Unspoken expectations;
Ideals you used to play with."
 -Cyndi Lauper, "Goonies 'R' Good Enough"

One of the great ironies of our time, I think, is that we have more methods of communication now than we've ever had as a society (cell phones, social media, FarmersOnly.com), and yet we, collectively speaking, often seem to be utterly terrible at communicating. And I think this issue contributes to a great deal of the misunderstanding and misery we single adults deal with on a near-constant basis.

For example, many people feel more comfortable texting rather than holding an actual, face-to-face conversation. For a second example, I've actually had more than one singles ward bishop tell me that multiple young ladies in the ward felt they had no other recourse but to employ the help of bishopric members to, in turn, talk to a number of young men in the ward whose romantic intentions were bothering these young ladies. The message to be delivered was, "Leave me alone." This kind of turned the bishopric members into bouncers or goons hired by the mafia. Yet in the vast majority of these cases, no actual stalking was in any way involved; these young ladies just couldn't tell these men, who were for the most part honestly trying to make their intentions known, a direct "thanks, but no thanks" or some other clear message that they weren't interested.

This baffles me. But then again, I don't get calculus, either.

Unspoken expectations—the stuff we really want out of dating—can be frustrating if they are not made clear.

I had a conversation with one of my brothers recently in which he mentioned that a mutual female friend of ours, whom I've met in person maybe twice, wondered why I hadn't asked her out on a date. Well, for one thing, this nice young lady and I have had about three minutes total of actual conversation time. For another, I had gleaned absolutely no inkling from her that she was interested in more than polite conversation. (We men are terrible at distinguishing between someone who is being polite and someone who is actually interested in getting to know us better. This is an unspoken expectation I'm getting out there now.)

As the Peruvians would say (and this is a phrase definitely lost in translation): "No me llamó la atención."

There is nothing at all wrong, ladies, with saying something right to the point, such as: "I think it would be fun if we went out sometime and did (activity)." This is not even you actually asking the guy out, but it is making an unspoken expectation, well, spoken. I have had someone tell me this phrase, or something akin to it, only once in my decades of dating, and honestly I was pleasantly surprised by it. I called her a week or so later for a date, knowing with confidence that she was at least interested already even if she already had plans that week. It didn't work out for us, but I appreciated the honesty and the tactic she employed.

If it turns out that the guy is just not interested when you've been direct like this, well, you've had maybe five to 10 seconds of an uncomfortable moment, and then you can both move on, without wondering about any ifs and not second-guessing anything.

When you're in an actual relationship, well, I think expectations about how you'd like to be treated or things that would make you happy (some would say your "love language") need to be made known.

Two of my relationships in the past few years ended with an "exit interview" in which, in part, the person I had been dating had mentioned things she expected to happen in the relationship—actual specific actions or deeds she'd hoped I would do (you should've done this and this, and I would've appreciated it more if you hadn't done this other thing)—and yet these things were never mentioned until this last time. On both occasions, I asked her for another chance to do those things she had wished I'd been doing all along; and on both occasions, the reply was "no."

In other words, you can't get mad at someone for doing or not doing something important when you don't actually, audibly, clearly tell that person why that thing or things matter to you.

For example, she says: "Golly, there's a lot of dishes in the sink today."
He says: "Yeah, there are!" and continues playing Halo.

A better way to express what you're really trying to say would be the direct approach:

She says: "The dishes are really piling up today, and it's your turn to wash them, Joe."
He (clicking his heels together like one of the Von Trapp children in The Sound of Music): "You're right! Hail Hydra!" (He salutes her, military style.) Also, my name is Walter. (He then does the dishes. Ideally.)

Say what you mean. Don't drop hints. Don't drop no eaves, as Samwise Gamgee would say. I think this is a thing that would help us all.

That's just the opinion of one guy blogging at McDonald's because his home Internet has been down since Monday. I'm here all week, folks!

Highway to the Stranger Zone

You unlock this door with a text message, maybe an e-mail. Beyond it is another dimension: a dimension of being out of sight, out of mind. You're being dumped into a land of both shadow and forgetfulness. You've just crossed over into the Stranger Zone.

We've all heard of the Friend Zone, haven't we? Well, most of us have . . . right?

The thing is, it doesn't really exist. Not in my experience, it doesn't. It's possible, but it's quite improbable.

You don't have to go on very many dates with someone to get friend zoned. Heck, you don't even have to have gone out on a date with someone to get friend zoned. I've seen it happen. I've also seen people hire a friend or a member of the bishopric to deliver that message second hand. Maybe hired goons with brass knuckles named Vito (the goons, not the brass knuckles), I dunno.

The Friend Zone is what you get for having the "let's just be friends" talk with someone in whom you are interested romantically, right after they put your heart into a blender, mix in Chlorox bleach, leave it in the fridge for four weeks, forget about it, pull it back out covered in freezer burn, duct tape the pieces back together, and then mail it to you by carrier pigeon.

Consider this sample conversation:

Girl: I think we should break up.
Boy (feverishly checking his pockets for a receipt for the engagement ring he purchased earlier that day): Wonderful! Who needs a heart, after all? As long as we can still be friends!
Girl (while checking her Pokémon Go stats on her phone): Sure, friends.
Boy: Great! That way, I can still go with you to the movies every Tuesday. As friends!
Girl: No.
Boy: Well, at least (using air quotes) "AS FRIENDS" (meanwhile, several anxious people in the restaurant turn their heads in concern, and the manager calls for security) I can still see all your Facebook posts when you rebound within a few weeks and find a better-looking, independently wealthy guy! One with big muscles!
Girl (almost cutting him off): AND a jeep!

I don't mean to say by this that the only alternative to the Friend Zone is any kind of Enemy Zone. I'm not going to do anything rash like gun the engine and run over someone who once dumped me if I see her crossing the street, for example. But I'm really not going to be part of her life in any way, shape, or form ever again. I call it the Stranger Zone.

Nine out of 10 times this is the case, anyway. With that tenth person, your interaction tends to be limited to very casual conversation; "hi"s and "hello"s and not much more.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. I'll use a Book of Mormon example here, and it is simply that Nephi and his family reached a point in time at which it was no longer safe for them to remain near Laman and Lemuel. Namely, they would be murdered savagely. Following Lehi's death, they packed up their stuff and put a great deal of distance between themselves and their brethren. Nephi and friends still loved their brethren, cared for them, and forgave them, but they needed space.

Likewise, it can be "unsafe" for you and your heart, your emotional and spiritual well-being, to be around someone who has caused you pain or to whom you've caused pain, and making a clean break is not a bad or wrong option.

My problem with the "let's just be friends" talk, which ends up being the Stranger Zone anyway, is that people mostly don't really mean to continue to be your friend if they're rejecting you.

I once upon a time went out with a girl in my ward a few times. I thought we had a pretty good time together, and my thinking moved into the "I'd like to get to know you better" conversation in my head.

Ha ha! I have delusions of grandeur sometimes, huh? Assuming anything else was going to happen was my first mistake. I called this person after a couple of weeks had gone by, after I neither saw her at church (it's a big ward) nor received any kind of ping pong/positive contact. She did not answer, so I left a voicemail. More time passed. I called and left another voicemail. Then I heard nothing back a second time. Ultimately, and in a final effort, in case her preferred method of communication was text, I sent a text message, my "third call, that's all," and finally received a reply, in which I was told, in summation: "I see us being only friends for now."

Naturally, this is not what she really meant. I don't blame her; it's never what anyone means. It's just the way our culture has conditioned us to act, as if getting to still be friends with someone who has crushed you like a gnat is some sort of consolation prize, like going on "Jeopardy!" and finishing the game with a negative dollar amount but still getting the chance to embarrass yourself of national TV and earning a gift card to Texas Roadhouse.

I finally saw this girl at the church the very next Sunday after the aforementioned text, and she avoided/walked right past me without saying a word. You know, like "friends" would do.

I also think of the time when cruel fate placed me and a date in theater seats that were directly a row behind my ex and her now-husband. It had not yet been a year since our breakup, and in that time, she had somehow recovered from this "difficult" breakup by finding this other guy, marrying him, and, at the time of this encounter, was already showing a baby bump. And there they were there in front of me, cuddling throughout the duration of the show.

It was torture.

Nevertheless, I did not make actual verbal or eye contact with this couple of front of me because they never turned around; had they done so, I would have smiled and said hello, and then I would have let them get on with their lives. I also paid attention to the show on stage more than I've ever paid attention to any musical ever. It is possible to be in the Stranger Zone while still being polite and still being a good person.

DISCLAIMER: Before the hate mail pours in, yes, ladies, I realize that we guys do stupid, unintentionally hurtful things, too. It's a recessive gene on the Y chromosome, actually. I accept dumb things I may have done wrong, too, because I'm learning as I'm going along, just as you are. I know only my experience and how certain events have affected me; I don't know anyone else's thoughts or motivations.

Basically, what I'm saying (to anyone who cares to listen? to the chair Neil Diamond is so fond of talking to? screaming out my window like Bastian at the end of The Neverending Story?) is: Don't send someone to the Friend Zone if you don't really intend to be that person's friend from that point forward. It's okay to accept the Stranger Zone. And in many cases, it's better for both people that it be that way.

Ping Pong for Doubles

I follow the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles both in life (or at least I try to) and also on more than one social media format. In addition to putting out some of the best posts/tweets on the Internet, these 15 men are almost as popular as Kim Kardashian, by which I mean, having done some quick math, that they have collectively acquired one-sixteenth the number of her followers.

Earlier this week, Elder D. Todd Christofferson tweeted:

"Others will feel our love and Heavenly Father's love when we remember them. A letter, a text message, or a phone call can be a blessing."

I'm not smart enough to figure out how to take a screen cap and then post the actual tweet here, so I copied the message just now in case you don't also follow Elder Christofferson. But seriously, follow him.

I share that message with you today because it leads me into an addendum to my previous post here on Paco Nation—you know, one of those "extremely lengthy posts" that people who haven't actually read this blog think I post on a regular basis.

As a follow-up to that post: Ladies, we men don't speak your language. We speak a language all our own, in fact, and it's filled with stuff like sports, Star Wars, video games, and action/sci-fi movie terminology. It's an XY chromosome thing, really.

Collectively speaking, we also don't often get the hints that are dropped our way by the female gender and need to be told things directly in case you'd like to get a message across that you might like to do something socially with us. (This is something called flirting.) By the same token, many of us males have faced rejection so many times, especially by the Misfit Toys age, that we frequently cannot tell whether someone we're interested in romantically either shares an interest back or just can't play ping pong.

What do I mean by ping pong, you ask? I use the term here as taught to me by my mission president, Carlos Cuba, years ago. In this sense, ping pong is when you carry on a conversation with or teach a discussion to people by saying something to them, then listening intently while they speak, and then you speak again, and so on, thus taking turns bouncing the ball back and forth over the net, figuratively speaking, as you are both uplifted and edified together.

In the dating scene, then, I see the metaphor of ping pong being played out not with words only but with gestures, too. For example, if one person takes the initiative and asks out someone else, and they both have a great time, then the person who was asked out could—going back to Elder Christofferson's tweet now—send a text to the person who did the asking out as thanks for a fun evening. Letters and phone calls seem to be somewhat passé now, so a text may be your best bet.

From the perspective of a guy who does a majority of the asking out in his own dating experience, I can't tell you how nice it is to get a text like this after a date has concluded. It makes me feel appreciated and helps to dispel some of my insecurities about myself. Better still, if the lady then takes the initiative and strikes up a conversation with me the next time we're in the same room together, be it at church or elsewhere, she is showing that she knows how to play ping pong indeed, and the gesture shows that further interest is there. It makes things easier for both of us going forward. Then, on the following encounter, it's your turn again to start up a conversation, or you might send a text to say you're thinking about her, or whatever; this is how ping pong keeps working. Some kind of positive daily contact is wonderful—to use another mission metaphor.

Likewise, I have felt rather crestfallen on those occasions when a girl I really liked sent me no text message (nor something else akin to it) after a date nor really spoke to me the next time I saw her. On those occasions, a message is sent indirectly, and it reads: she's either not interested or doesn't play ping pong, and I'm not smart enough to know the difference.

When you're interested in a person who either doesn't know how to play ping pong or doesn't want to, well, it turns out to just one person bouncing the ball around, and that gets either boring or frustrating after a while, and you quickly lose interest in the game.

Some of you who are well versed already in ping pong may wonder why I even bring up this topic. Perhaps it is because in my time on the Island of Misfit Toys, I've found a surprising number of those in my dating pool who have not actually been in a committed relationship prior to their 30s. I'm always very floored when I learn this about some of those I've taken out, because these people are in no way unattractive or uninteresting. But nevertheless they exist, and they often are not familiar with the rules of ping pong, and a familiarity with ping pong helps both players to play the game far better than they would if they were not aware of the rules.

And the rules are really pretty simple when you break them down.

Dating: Impossible

Good evening, Paco. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to go on a date. Should you not completely botch that up, you might even someday attempt to get a second date or, heaven help us, the delusion you've had for decades now that even a relationship is possible. Let alone anything further than that.

As always, should you choose someone in your ward, or anyone else you might see on a regular basis, and any of your I.M. Force (also you) be caught saying something unintentionally stupid, thus forever putting you in the Friend or Stranger Zone, your date will disavow any knowledge of your actions and will ignore/avoid you, and possibly unfriend you on Facebook. This tape will self-destruct in five or ten minutes. Good luck, Paco.

First, though, let me rewind the tape a bit and explain where I'm coming from today.

Last weekend, as in two weekends ago now, we castaways on the Island of Misfit Toys, aka the mid-singles, the Left Behind, or the Leper Colony, took part in an annual mid-singles conference, which involved people from all over Utah, as well as folks from out of state, and even people out of the country. Those who organized it did a phenomenal job of putting things together and delivered an excellent product.

The event concluded Sunday night with a fireside at the Ute 'tute, at which I'm told 2,500 attended. The featured speakers were Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and his wife, Kristen. I was seated in the overflow, about a half-mile back from the pulpit, but technically I was in the same room as a dedicated servant of the Lord and his wonderful, insightful spouse, and we received some very helpful, very meaningful counsel.

To make a long story even longer, and I promise I'm going somewhere with this, Elder Oaks read as part of his presentation a number of letters from current and former mid-singles who, like many of us, struggle(d) with the dating scene. All but one of the letters Elder Oaks read were from the female point-of-view, I believe. One of the letters touched on what Elder Oaks called the "Peter Pan syndrome," which means that the whole dating thing largely isn't happening, and hanging out is the norm, because many men are selfish, immature individuals who instead of growing up and taking on adult responsibilities are far more concerned with "the accumulation of money, property, car, home, travel, graduation before marriage, etc." than in building a lifetime with someone else. For the first time in our country's history, he said, there are more single adults than married adults, and this concerns the Brethren.

When conversations like these arise about why dating isn't happening, single guys like myself often see the finger of blame (and not always of encouragement) pointed at us, in this and many other settings. And this is because many years ago, sometime after Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden, men lost a Rock-Paper-Scissors game to women and got stuck with the responsibility of being the gender that has to make that move and shoulders that responsibility, and thus it has been ever since.

Elder Oaks is correct, of course. I see a lot of men doing the Peter Pan thing, and I can empathize with the frustration that many ladies must feel about priesthood inaction, so to speak. So, we should own that, collectively speaking, guys. This counsel and message are intentionally given, and should be.

Nevertheless, there are always two sides to a story—are there not? Believe it or not, there are those of us who are actually trying to break out of the mold, who are trying not to be Peter Pans. We've been trying for years now, because we heard these same messages as young single adults and have been dating, or at least trying to date, for years—long before we washed up on the shore of the Island of Misfit Toys. And we are frustrated, too.

Why? Because we often feel like we are caught in a darned-if-you-don't, darned-if-you-do, no-win, catch-22 situation. We hear these calls to date, and we make an effort, and yet the end results of our attempts often leave us feeling even more disillusioned with the whole horrible, gut-wrenching process. We hear our fellow female singles wondering why they don't have dates, and after we've done what we think they asked for and have asked them out or gone on a date, we are often left feeling like asking you out was one of the most offensive things we could possibly do.

Let me stress: This particular message is largely given, I believe—and as a contrast to the intentionally given counsel from Elder Oaks—unintentionally. I'm not trying to offend or alienate anyone here, let alone my own dating pool. And I realize that I may be treading in shallow waters.

Let me give you a few examples of what I mean.

I have previously posted here on Paco Nation about the problems of approachability with some and in trying to get to know those who just don't come to activities or who appear to evacuate the building like it's on fire after church meetings conclude. We can't proceed to the dating stage if you just don't show up or if we otherwise don't get a chance to meet you first. Sometimes, even getting the privilege just to talk to some of you—and it is a privilege—can be very difficult.

In addition, we live with the conflicting messages. One side of society tells us to get busy and to get dating already, OK? The other side keeps reminding us that we're nincompoops, which can put us between a rock and hard place, self-esteem wise. As another single woman put it in a different letter Elder Oaks read: "All of the single men are like parking spots: either handicapped or far out." This is how society portrays us sometimes, and it isn't exactly inspiring once the laughter has died down.

Once we've passed the stage of getting to know you, getting to know at least a little bit about you, getting an actual date with you is not always a guarantee. A fellow single friend of mine recently lamented that he had gone on two dates the previous month, but that was after he had asked out 10 girls. To use a different Rodgers and Hammerstein reference: Sometimes, some of you can be a girl who cain't say yes.

After an actual date has taken place, getting a second date can often be as difficult, if not more difficult, than getting the first one. There are a handful female acquaintances in my ward who will no longer speak to me, for whatever reason. My offense, as far as I can gather, is my last previous social interaction with them, which was having taken them out on a date. Before going on a date, I got along swimmingly with these people. I daresay we were friends even. But now, these few go out of their way to avoid or ignore me.

So, you see, the message—once again, unitentionally—is that having taken you out is possibly the most offensive thing I could've done. The message can be: Ask for a date, lose a friend. Maybe it was a glance, a bad joke, paying with a coupon instead of forking out a whole $50 for dinner—something I've unintentionally done has disqualified me from future social interaction, and I don't know what it is or was.

For the life of me, I don't know why this phenomenon occurs or why this approach is considered more "kind" than taking perhaps 10 to 15 uncomfortable seconds to to tell me something akin to: "I just don't feel any chemistry with you"; "I had a good time with you, but I don't see a relationship going anywhere"; "I don't wanna kill you, but I will"; or some other message that leaves no possible room for misunderstanding. But instead, we play the avoid and ignore game. Society teaches us that this is "kind."  I saw the same thing occur in my YSA ward, and I see it now.

Well, that's all of the potentially-offensive-but-I-sincerely-don't-mean-it-that-way stuff I've got for now. If you have made it to this point, fellow Misfit Toys (and others), thank you for bearing with me, and I welcome your input/feedback. I realize that the bemoaning-your-singleness approach does not necessarily attract people, so I really don't intend to do this type of thing often.

I also urge you to consider that just because you may have read something that doesn't fit your experience doesn't mean that my experiences and frustrations aren't valid, just as your experiences and frustrations are plenty valid. I guarantee you that many other active LDS single men feel this way, because we have conversations about these frustrations frequently.

I cannot judge anyone else's motivations or intents, because they are known to only that person. I can, however, report on observed patterns of behavior and express how they have affected me, and I feel that's what I'm doing with this post. I'm not pointing fingers at any one person, let alone am I trying to malign the female gender. You confuse me sometimes, and I'm trying to understand why you do what you do sometimes.

Of course, if the real issue is you're just not getting asked out by the men you want to ask you out, rather than single men in general, you might try, I don't know, asking them out yourself and seeing where that leads. It is possible, and it's not viewed negatively by us gents. I recently got asked out on a lovely picnic prepared by a sister in my ward, and together we enjoyed a most pleasant afternoon together. It was thoughtfully done and was a wonderful gesture. And we have even had some conversations together after this social outing, too.

So, ladies, what I'm saying overall is: Please be kind to your active LDS single male friends who are trying not to be Peter Pans. According to conference attendance figures, we may even be an endangered species; I'm told that single women outnumbered single men at a 7-to-1 ratio.

With that plea for kindness, I remind you that we're trying (not always succeeding, but trying), per the Golden Rule, to be kind to you in return, because you are wonderful; and not to quote One Direction or anything, but sometimes you really don't know how amazing you truly are. Sometimes, you perplex the snot out of us, and trying to understand the feminine mystique remains one of life's greatest mysteries, but you really are wonderful. I look around me at the wonderful ladies in my ward each week and the recurring thought is that there are still so many of you I'd like to get to know if given the chance.

If any of you, with total recall abilities, bring up that certain Tuesday back in 2003 or 2007 when I said this or did that, and it left you feeling this way about me, well, I validate that. Our actions have consequences, whether intentional or unintentional. I'm not perfect, nor am I claiming perfection here, and neither are you. But together, with understanding and with effort, perhaps we can still somehow form a more perfect union.

*KABOOOOOM*

The Bro Code at Church

The Bro Code.

It's a very specific code for us males, and when I say specific, I mean, not really that specific, as in it's not written down somewhere but rather sort of just understood. Because we tend not to worry about stuff like this and then agonize over it and talk it over with our best friends to find out what she really, really meant by that until we realize it's 3 a.m. and we have to get up for work in a few hours. No, we use that time to either play video games and talk about comic book plots.

There are a few absolutes in the Bro Code:

If it's just you and a male friend at a movie, there must be at least one seat in between the two of you.

The same principle applies to using the stalls in a public bathroom. You gotta have that one-toilet buffer zone between you.

Be a good wingman. Help a guy out.

You also don't date someone a good friend of yours has dated, at least not recently. Or something.

Anything else would be frowned upon and might lead to a Lifetime movie exposing the horrors of breaking the Bro Code.

Fortunately, there's also a sort of Bro Code at work at church. In my previous ward, an elder gentleman often politely went out of his way to help me out with my collar and tie whenever I came down with a case of Deacon's Collar, which happened all-too frequently for someone such as myself who had served a mission and who worked at the Church Office Building for years and who has tied literally thousands of ties over the years.

Note: Deacon's Collar in the LDS faith is not the same thing as Deacon's Collar in, say, the Catholic faith. It refers to looking like you tied your tie in the dark, or with one arm tied behind your back. (Deacon's Collar is a real, Google-able term you can search for.)

Then, there are those times when you are running late for church, and earlier you've put on the new sweater that your mom gave you for Christmas a few weeks ago, except you wanted to try it on first to make sure it fit before you removed the tags and stickers, and you forgot all about the tags and stickers that were still attached to it, and you walked hurriedly into the chapel with these items on full display to the public to try to find a seat. In this instance, the Bro Code clearly dictates that someone must step up and either make you aware of these tags and stickers and/or remove them himself.

So, thank goodness for that.

First Impressions and Second Chances

Topic Number 3 in "Paco's Series on Tips for Getting a Date, But Then Again This Is Paco Blogging Here; He May Not Really Know What He's Talking about, So Take It for Whatever You Will" is: first impressions.

When it comes to the subject of first impressions, I'll never forget when I first saw a missionary I served with, Elder Flores. I first met this elder in the mission office, on the day he arrived in the field. We never spoke at that time, but I sensed that he looked at me kind of . . . strange. It was an odd feeling, and it left me feeling like the guy just didn't like the look of me very much.

I'm happy to say that my initial impression was dead wrong. I didn't see this elder again for several months until I was transferred to serve in the same zone with him in the city of Cusco, Peru. My bad first impression of him dissolved when I shook his hand, got to know him a little bit better, and in time realized that he and I shared much of the same sense of humor and laughed at many of the same things.

Something else I learned about that earlier first impression: Going into the mission field was Elder Flores's first time outside of his native city and that I was, literally, the first gringo (American) he had ever laid eyes on. For him, that first impression was one far different.

Due to a temporary transfer that occurred not long after this, Elder Flores and I even served together as companions for most of a week, and they were joyful days for us both. I learned something about humility from him, because although he stuttered when he spoke, this struggle had given him strength to, at the same time, testify of gospel truths with power and assurance.

What this has to do with meeting new people/dating: First impressions (at least mine) are not always correct. When we meet someone else for the first time, we must consider the possibility that that person might be having a bad day for any number of reasons, or we might be having a bad day, or any number of other issues may factor in to our perception of that person or that person's perception of us.

Sometimes, second, third, fourth, and more impressions give us a pretty good idea of what a person may be like. Sometimes, it takes a few more.

At the same time, no, I'm not saying you should accept a date with someone you already know is not compatible with you or about whom you have some seriously bad vibes.

I know you ladies know what I'm talking about here, because essentially every Jane Austen story and every chick flick involves a romance between two people who instantly hate each other when they first meet and who then grow to love each other over time.

Deserters and Dessert-ers

In addition to being approachable, I feel like mentioning something else tonight that I think may help those who feel like they may not necessarily be meeting the kind of people they wish to meet: be a "dessert-er" and not "deserter."

A friend of mine in the ward coined this phrase, and I use it here with his permission.

One night after institute, this friend and I were talking and were enjoying some of the cookies provided for our refreshment following that night's class. As we were doing so, he observed that a large number of those in attendance got up and headed out for the parking lot shortly after class concluded. He expressed his dismay at this, saying that he preferred those nights far more when "dessert-ers" (those who stayed around to eat dessert and socialize) outweighed the "deserters" (those who promptly headed headed home, abandoning the building as if it were on fire).

In the same vein, I had a conversation with a different friend in the ward recently who expressed this thought: "There are a lot of beautiful girls in our ward, but so many of them don't hang around after church so I can get a chance to know them better. Within a few minutes after the third block gets out, most of them are gone. There are plenty I'd like to get to know, but I'm not going to run out to the parking lot and hunt them down for the opportunity."

From my own perspective, I might add: It's okay to play a little hard to get, whatever you think that cliché might mean. But playing the Osama bin Laden version of hard-to-get makes things much more difficult for us all.

In addition to being approachable, are we lingering a little bit longer at ward or singles events?

I realize, of course, that we're all busy and have lives outside of Church-related events and that people have things and jobs and homework, and some even have kids, while others have TiVo'd programs they'd like to get home to sometimes. Sometimes.

But even if it's just a few extra minutes, consider maybe spending a little bit more time at the meat market next time you go shopping. If you're going to be a carnivore, you'll find that's where the meat is.

Being Approachable

Over on the Island of Misfit Toys, we had our biannual stake conference a few weeks back. Elder Becerra, an Area Seventy, was the presiding authority. To prepare us for the conference, he invited us to complete a few simple tasks such as attending the temple, re-reading our patriarchal blessings, reading one of President Uchtdorf's recent general conference addresses, and . . . going on a date?!

That "simple task," you say, huh? Yes, this was part of his counsel to all adult members of the stake. While for married couples in the other wards of our stake this is something very easy to do, it tends to cause a great deal of anxiety and to be a little bit harder for the Misfit Toys to carry out. When it comes to dates, we have no guarantees.

Then again, it's not an impossible task, either. We believe, after all, that there is no commandment given where there is not a way to accomplish it, do we not? (See 1 Nephi 3:7.)

After this counsel was delivered in sacrament meeting, reactions to the go-on-a-date part of the counsel were varied. I heard a number of different people, both male and female, express doubt about being able to do it. I even observed a few of the sisters say in effect that they could comply with all of the requests only if "by some miracle" they were asked on a date.

About the same time, I came across this quote in a book I was reading:

"The Lord will not translate one's good hopes and desires and intentions into works. Each of us must do that for himself." -Spencer W. Kimball

So, how does that apply to dating, then? What can any of us do to improve our chances of getting a date?

I do not share any of this to single out (no pun intended) any one individual nor to make anyone, especially the sisters, feel bad about a lack of dates. Asking out is largely the man's responsibility, after all, and it is a weight we are frequently reminded that we bear when we attend the priesthood session of general conference, firesides, elders quorum meetings, etc. (In other words, we have constant reminders.) It seems like there is plenty of unnecessary guilt enough already to go around for all of us.

Also, I realize that there are many sisters who may read this who are actively trying to do all of the right things and who are striving meet potential marriage partners but who, for whatever reason, are not getting the kind of dates they want, or even a date at all. It's a darn shame, and I recognize that it is. I'm on your side. I want us all to succeed and to be happy. I know that many of the brethren are frustrated, too, as I wrote in a recent post, and a great deal of that frustration stems from things that some of the ladies do that often unintentionally may make them appear to be uninterested or indifferent when this is not actually the case.

Instead of raking anyone over the coals, instead my hope is to provide some sense of encouragement and to offer, from my own humble point-of-view, a few suggestions that help me personally as a male attempting to obtain female companionship. None of us, male or female, is necessarily powerless when it comes to getting a date, and there a number of things we can do to pursue one without waiting around for the phone to ring or the text message alert to chime and an aforementioned "miracle" to occur.

I start tonight with the phrase "being approachable." Getting a date starts with meeting people, and that begins with being approachable.

I recently read an LDS Living article in which the writer suggested that singles "must always be on the lookout. We must go places where we would want our future spouse to be; we must be approachable; we must be open to possibilities; and we must do those things consistently" (emphasis added).

I googled the phrase "be approachable," and I came up with this great blog post on the subject for those who may have social anxiety (i.e. "shyness") about meeting members of the opposite sex. Among its simple pieces of advice are to smile and to use eye contact. Doing these simple things can help open doors for you and for me, and even the most shy among us can do them without having to say a word.

When it comes to actually speaking, well, if you feel shy about conversing with the opposite sex, start with a close family member, a trusted friend, or a work colleague you get along well with, and practice the art of conversation. Learn to ask questions and to listen to the other person's replies. Be interested in others and in their opinions, goals, and hobbies.

I recently had a conversation, or at least tried to, with a very pretty sister in my ward whom I'd admired from afar for a while. I found this attempt difficult because she gave only one-word answers when I asked her questions. She didn't seem interested in talking to me at all as a friend, let alone as a potential date. She did not seem "approachable" at all.

Sisters, I know that we can give off this vibe sometimes, too. It goes both ways.

No one can be "approachable," either, who is always at home reading books, or playing video games, or watching sports or sitcoms endlessly on TV, or always sitting by or talking to the same people week in and week out. There is a time and a place for any one of these things in moderation, certainly, but someone who is always doing "something else" or is always following the same exact routine is far less "approachable" than those who show up at meetings and activities and put themselves into places where they can meet new people.

Again, none of these tactics will guarantee you a date. Part of the gospel we embrace includes the concept that we must "cheerfully do all things that lie in our power" (D&C 123:17), which means that we exercise faith by endeavoring to control those things we can control, and then we will see the blessing(s) come in the Lord's due time. But being approachable will multiply your chances at getting a date exponentially, and it will help out anyone socially far more than not being approachable.

Hims of the Church

It's not you; it's a lack of hims. Really.

Perhaps you've read or heard about a recent article in Time magazine in which it is asserted that the LDS Church is undergoing a "dating" or a "marriage crisis," and this is because "women are in oversupply." Because "there are now 150 women for every 100 Mormon men in the state of Utah," "heterosexual men are more likely to play the field, and heterosexual women must compete for men's attention." The article even goes on to claim that several of these women are resorting to plastic surgery in order to compete and make themselves stand out from their peers.

"Yes, Mormon men take full advantage." Claims one interviewee, "'They wait for the next, more perfect woman.'"

Another woman interviewed stated that several friends "wound up marrying outside the religion . . . simply because they had no other options," while other friends, "all good LDS girls! . . . gave up on finding a husband and decided to have children on their own."

One female who commented on the post said she is LDS and that where she lives "the men here ARE lazy both outside and inside of the church."

You must certainly get a lot of dates with the perception that 100% of your potential dating partners are lazy, sister, I thought to myself. It must certainly make them feel good about themselves and then want to take you out.

Yet another said, "For men, there are so many choices that choices are not made."

I wish this data made me feel better. In theory, it would lead me to believe that, statistically, all I need to do is show up on Sunday, walk into the chapel, and the aisles of the Island of Misfit Toys, within a matter of minutes, ought to be strewn with piles of the bodies of women clawing each other's eyes out for the right to become the future Mrs. Paco Nation.

"Ought" to. But it does not make me feel better about myself. Not at all, honestly. Because I'm trying, even as imperfect as I am. I'm making a conscious effort to meet people in my ward, even when it is out of my comfort zone. People think that because I do improv I don't have any comfort zone when it comes to meeting the opposite sex, but I can assure you, that comfort zone is quite small indeed.

I'm dating girls in my very large ward. Not one in particular for the moment, but different ones. And the results are . . . mixed. And yes, I realize that if you interviewed the girls I have asked out, they might give you the same reply about me. They might express frustration at some of my habits or tendencies or any other number of issues that make me less than perfect. I know I have them, and I am working on them. Yet the whole difficult process makes me as frustrated as the women interviewed for this article.

Another issue the article brings up: "Maybe it's the women who are holding out for the Mormon or Jewish George Clooney?"

You know, a good, temple recommend-holding guy with muscles and a jeep, who also stars in crappy Batman movies and bobs his head a lot.

I realize there is frustration among the sisters, but the brethren, I can assure you, are frustrated, too, albeit for different reasons. Men read articles like these (or sometimes get it from the priesthood session of general conference) and tend to walk away with the perception that all women are perfectly prioritized and are just dying to get married, while men are responsibility-avoiding, lollygagging, basement-dwelling morons and losers.

It's always good to get both sides of the issue, whatever the issue may be. And I think it's very important to remember that there can be two extremes on this particular issue: one believing that all available LDS men are lazy, uninspired, or self-important baboons, with perhaps the other claiming that all available LDS women are far too careful, choosy, aloof, and judgmental once they hit their 30s.

The truth, I think, lies somewhere in between these extremes. Generalities or stereotypes rarely help anybody. I think it boils down to finding just one good, honest, kind LDS man or woman who is doing his or her best and with whom you enjoy spending time, in spite of the incorrect stereotypes about either gender.

Personally, I'm not looking for perfection. I'm not trying to play any field. I'm not attempting to take "full advantage" of anyone, no matter what Time magazine may assert. I am making choices, even with so many choices available. I'd be happy with just one woman competing for my attention, because she wants to (and not because she has no other options). I'm really just looking for someone who can put up with me for a few hours every few nights, and also who doesn't mind the feel of facial hair on her face every now and then. I don't ask for much.

Is there a crisis? It may depend on whom you ask. Let's just not make things harder than they have to be.

Code Green

Not long ago, I found myself sitting in a movie theater, watching the first of what is expected to be several blockbuster films of the summer of 2015. Chances are, you've seen it, too. I refer tonight to a flick titled The Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Oddly, I found myself sympathizing especially with an unexpected member of the team: Bruce Banner, aka the Incredible Hulk. I say "oddly" because the Hulk is not necessarily my favorite Avenger, nor is he really the favorite of many others I associate with. (Maybe I need to get out more.) In a poignant scene, he finds himself talking alone with Natalia Alianovna Romanova, aka Black Widow.

I'm paraphrasing, but the gist of Banner's speech to her is that he is worried he cannot or will not have the kind of future he really wants. Because of his "condition," putting it lightly, he'll never marry, have children, or have any other semblance of a "normal" life that others enjoy and/or take for granted.

So, why do I sympathize with the Hulkster? Well, I belong to a mid-single adult ward—which I lovingly refer to here on Paco Nation as the Island of Misfit Toys, and sometimes as the Remedial Singles Ward. And I often feel like this very worry expressed by Banner—call it "Code Green," if you will—is the elephant in the room each week at church that nobody wants to talk about directly, and yet it is the very concern is that is very real to each and every person who attends and who longs for that same kind of future.

Perhaps this is why I find myself blogging about the issue so much. I sometimes feel like there is just not enough of a dialogue going on (that, or I'm not reading all of the right LDS-themed articles or blog posts—though I do follow as many as I can—on the matter), because each has his/her own insights and experiences on the matter. If you have a blog and I'm not already reading it, please share it with me. Follow me, and I'll follow you, and all that.

From a simplistic point-of-view, this "Code Green," so to speak, would all seem rather simple. Some basic tenets: "Marriage is ordained of God." To single Latter-day Saint adults, it is a commandment to seek out someone you can get along with for at least more than a few dates and then marry, be like Adam and Eve post-Garden of Eden, etc. Boom, problem solved, and commandment fulfilled.

Instead, it's just not that simple. Unlike all of the other commandments, it's the only one we cannot obey by ourselves, and that "free agency" thing gets in the way. Like Bruce Banner, we all worry to one degree or another about the future and what may or may not happen while simultaneously clinging to faith in things in which we can have faith. Collectively speaking, issues like the big, ugly, hairy monster of dating get in the way and complicate things even more. I feel we're collectively also terrible at communication, and personally I'm working to improve my own skills in any way I can. Big complications with that one. We worry about our own selves and battle problems of self-esteem and self-doubt and "I just am not cut out for this" and whether we really are capable of doing what we've been asked while still believing, somehow, that "the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them" (1 Nephi 3:7).

The whole process is exhausting. At times, it's lonesome, excruciating, and heartbreaking. It makes you feel like you get back, at most, a nickel for every dollar you invest in it. It puts you through the ringer and then back again spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Indeed, it's far more complicated than it looks. But if you start over by breaking it down to a simple Sunday, I think, you can also find moments of joy as you make the journey and attempt to conquer that inner Hulk. That was my simple goal today—while simultaneously making a conscious effort to push that image of the elephant in the room down to fifth or sixth on my Top 10 list of concerns for the day. Our three-hour block was wonderful. I conversed with several old as well as new-ish friends and made a couple of new acquaintances, to boot. The girl I took out on a date this past week even said "hello" and briefly conversed with me (which lately seems to be the exception and not the rule—but more on that topic another day) between meetings.

Baby steps.

When all is said and done, perhaps Hulk is not ready to smash just yet.

Pursuing or Pestering?

"Women want to be pursued," said a relationship expert at a single adult fireside I attended a couple of years ago. "So, you men? You need to do the pursuing."

I'm paraphrasing here, but that was certainly one of the main points of her presentation.

Very well, then; pursuit is the name of the game. And pursuing requires at least a degree of aggressiveness, does it not? You can't be passive and, at the same time, pursue. So, when does pursuing cross the line and become perceived as stalking?

There can be a very fine line between the two, ¿no es cierto?

Admittedly, this concept is at the forefront of my brain since I recently read this blog post, titled "How to Not Be the Mr. Collins of Your Singles Ward."

Poor Mr. Collins. He has no idea just how creepy and unpleasant he is perceived to be.

Sometimes, I fear that too many of us males, in our sincere but imperfect efforts to pursue, are perceived to be Mr. Collins rather than Mr. Darcy. Jane Austen has set the bar pretty high. It all begs the question: How do you pursue aggressively and yet not come across as a Mr. Collins type of guy?

I've been somewhat paranoid since reading that blog post. For me, it has raised more questions than it has answered. How do you give someone else "space" while, conversely, not appearing to be aloof or disinterested? I've been walking on eggshells on the Island of Misfit Toys since. In addition, might there be a fine line between being perceived as a loveable goofball or a dopey, inept, boring, annoying Mr. Collins?

I don't know the answers. I'm asking these questions out into the lifeless void tonight. There's something about rejection that makes you feel like you know nothing and have learned nothing and it's time to scrap it all anyway and start over with a new game plan.

One factor that I am certain plays into it: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, just as behavior can be perceived as repulsive or creepy. For some couples who hit it off on the first date and become twitterpated, going on a second or a third or even a fourth date later that week is heaven on Earth. For others, well, the woman would never talk to you again if you asked her for a second date any earlier than a week later.

The rest is . . . well, a mystery.