A Romantic Comedy Waiting to Happen

One of the troubles of living in such a homogeneous community is that 23 becomes the new 29. In other words: Provo thinks I'm old. Nearing my expiration date. The dating version of menopausal. Destined to become a cat lady - especially given my obvious lack of extended relationship experience.

This became slightly more apparent to me the other night when some friends of mine were discussing a new roommate who NCMO'd for several hours a few nights ago. NCMOing (or Non Committal Making Out for those of you not well versed in Provoese) is kind of a fad among the rebellious set. It's the kind of thing people wear as a badge of honor. It's also the kind of thing I wouldn't ever consider doing. This, my friends concluded, was because of my aforementioned lack of extended dating experience. "You play it too safe," they say. "Your life is like. . . a romantic comedy just waiting to happen."

Well, that might be true from a certain point of view. I am about to move to a new city on my own and start a new job. That seems to fit. I'm thinking about getting a cat. That works. I'm not unattractive most of the time, but I am enough of the time that there could be some Sandra-Bullock like moments mixed in with the Meg Ryan like ones. It's not a bad set up if I say so myself.

But it does frustrate me when we have conversations about our futures and the conclusion is "oh, we're sure you'll find someone someday, but imagining you with that person is WEIRD."

Excuse me?

What is so strange about the idea of my being in some kind of relationship?! Why is that so awkward? I kind of want to glare at these naysayers and remind them that had the timing or situation been right I could have been married three times over now, thank you very much. My apparent lack of opportunity has not always been as pronounced as it is at the moment with my (almost) utter lack of social life. My pronounced practicality in dealing with relationships does not entirely reflect the girly dreams that I most definitely have, even if I do not choose to gush about them to the world.

So. To those people in my life who find the idea of my having a relationship so utterly repulsive: you can go have your NCMO's or whatever else it is that you do on weekends while I stay home alone watching Road to Avonlea re-runs. I may not have much to encourage dreams in the reality of my life right now, but I'm not about to quit now. I'm not exactly ancient.

Grab Bag

It's Friday, and I'm at work, and I've got lots on my mind so today is a bit of a mixed bag-order of business: My time to vent, my time to talk up my mother, my time to comment on one of Liz's posts...

And look at all the pretty tabs I have now! Yay for tabs.

So before I wax sentimental-I think I'm going to (once again) steal Liz's thunder and blog over conference. This is, of course, assuming that I have Internet this weekend, and (once again) assuming that I actually have readers who care. My blog is certainly not as widely read as hers is (for obvious reasons), but it'd be a nice way to pay attention and it'll keep me awake.

Thank heaven for this weekend. I've been needing this weekend for ages. I've been really crabby and stressed the last few weeks. I've been blaming school but it really isn't school-my classes this semester are pretty enjoyable and easy, so I can't complain there. What I can (and will) complain about though is my roommate situation and how much I can't wait for the year to end. I'm feeling so suffocated and trapped with the situation I'm in. Half the time I wish I was living with the same girls next year, and the other half of the time I want to pack up my bags and live on the street until the end of the semester to get away. More than half the time for the latter, I think. I don't even know why it's bothering me so much. It probably has something to do with me letting the quirks my roommates have drive me up the wall. I don't like being governed by our system. I'm tired of being told what to buy every week for food and when to do dishes. I've started feeling rather rebellious about it all. I'm glad I've found a better situation for myself next year.

That being said, I don't hate my roommates. I get rather frustrated with a few of them, but I don't hate them. I don't like hearing them talk about what's going to be so fun next year and how they're all living together-it's awkward. I've seen what's happened with Katie-our roommate who moved out last year. I've seen her about three times since last year. Everyone talks about how we'll all eat dinner and see each other and whatever next year but it's all a load of junk. The real reason I've felt horrible is because I can't, no matter what I do, shake the feeling of loneliness I have. Not that I'm not excited to live with Liz-but I'm still like an outsider coming in. All I know right now is that I'm desperate for change that won't come. There are so many things that I want for my life and I don't know how to get them. Or-to quote Jo March "I want to change but I just can't and I know I'll never fit in anywhere!" I don't feel quite so tragic as that but I can certainly relate to the first half of the quote. Thank heaven for Marmee's rebuttal-"You have so many extraordinary gifts. How can you expect to lead an ordinary life?" I don't know about my "extraordinary gifts", but I know I can't expect to lead an ordinary life. At this point I'm just surviving until the end of the semester when I can "bashing around London" (and the rest of England) and get all this weight off my chest.

On to brighter things. My mom has joined the blog-force! Being the activist that she is, she's written a few letters to the editor of our local paper in the last year, and one of the women in our stake (who works for the paper) asked her to be part of a group of mothers who blog about different topics that are relevant to mothers in our area and on motherhood in general. I think it's pretty exciting-not just because I love blogging but because it's just further proof that my mother is incredible. I love that she can take on these new challenges and projects. I can't wait to see what comes of it. Stay tuned-I'll post links when I can.

Alright-I thought I would offer another point of view on the Sexuality at BYU post that Liz made recently. Growing up outside of Utah, I feel like I've got a different perspective on it-or at least on how sexuality should be handled in public education. I agree with Liz-the majority of BYU students are mature enough to handle it. It's when you start dealing in extremes that it gets to be a problem. Granted-all this is coming from the girl who is completely freaked out by physical affection and once stated "I don't want my husband touching me!" It's not true-I'm not against physical affection-I just haven't met anyone I'm comfortable with in that way yet. For details-see my mother. It's all her fault.

From what I understand talking to my Utah friends, the majority of high schools don't have sex ed in High School. They'll do basics (boys and girls are different), but don't discuss too much into STD's, how sex actually "works", or issues surrounding sexuality in general. This is a pretty stark contrast to my public school system, where we spent nearly an entire semester in eighth grade science class discussing nothing but STD's. We gave presentations on them. We had to videotape a song about them. I was on gonorrhea. I spent so much time making handouts and jingles and posters on gonorrhea it was complete overkill. We watched a movie about a naked woman giving birth. We studied it again nearly every year in every science class. It got to be a bit of a joke. Even the teachers didn't really take it seriously. They'd preface everything with "abstinence is the best way, but next to that..." and then list all the facts about using protection and the odds of "success" there (meaning, odds of not getting pregnant or getting an STD). It's a complete polar opposite from schools in this part of the west. Here, it's a famine, there it's a complete flood.

I don't think either way is the best way to go when it comes to sex-ed. It's like Alma says to his son Shiblon-we are supposed to bridle our passions. We don't want to starve the horse (that will kill it), nor do we want to let the horse run wild without any hold on the reins (that will kill us). We are to bridle passions. Control them. And in order to control them, you have to recognize them and know what they are. You can't control something you know nothing about.

I'm not quite sure what the best method of sex education is. I think it's important not to talk too much about it, but the streams of communication should be open. There is, obviously, a level of sacredness. From my experience, though-it's probably best that schools do some of the educating (the scientific part), and parents do the rest (the moral part). If there isn't communication, then kids will find out about sex from other sources-it's not like the sources aren't available.

Then of course, there's the issue when it comes to sexuality and gender affiliation but I don't even want to look at that road right now. I've seen the Readers Forum in the Daily Universe. The debate is too extreme at the moment to cause any headway no matter how many bloggers post on it.