YOLO Guy Takes a Chance

Over the weekend, I went to a singles dance. Because, like the disco song says, there are times when you've just gotta boogie-oogie-oogie till you just can't boogie no more.

It had been far too long since the Angry White Loner had last attended a dance. As a result, admittedly, he found himself being a wallflower for the first hour or so he was there, talking to friends and acquaintances on the sidelines and doing a whole lot of people watching in the meantime.

I love to people watch. You can sure learn a lot about others by doing it—especially at a dance. During my period of wallflowering, one of the individuals I observed was what I can only assume was a rather shy guy sitting in the corner, wearing a YOLO ("you only live once") t-shirt.

Eventually, yours truly made it out onto the dance floor and wowed the ladies with his mad skillz. No surprise there.

YOLO Guy, however, remained seated for most of the rest of the evening. That is, he remained seated until the moment the DJ announced the final song of the night.

At this moment, YOLO Guy decided that enough was enough and it was finally time to take advice from his own t-shirt, because, after all, you only live once. (Unless you're a Buddhist. Or Shirley Maclaine.) He asked a girl to dance, and he finally made it out there, in spite of his shyness.

The moral of the story is: It's never too late. Also, the people who overcome their fears are the ones who do something about it and don't let themselves be held hostage by them.

Kudos to you, YOLO Guy. It took you a while, but, as they say, it's better late than never. For some people, it's enough of a victory to overcome shyness just by showing up to a dance, let alone getting out there and dancing.

It's about Love . . . and Patience

I recently met two friends of Pure Prairie Girl's, a married couple who were high school sweethearts and who have now spent more than a decade together in wedded bliss. Unfortunately, during that same period of time, they have been unable to have children of their own.

Very soon, however, they will have finally come through all of the red tape and are preparing to adopt a baby who will become theirs as soon as he/she is born. They have an agreement with the birth mother and everything. They excitedly spoke of their plans and shared their joy about the at-long-last arrival of their delayed blessing of becoming parents.

It was an enlightening and a sobering experience for the Angry White Loner, who saw the other side of this coin of adoption a few months ago and made a post here on a similar subject on the blog back in May. In a way, this experience brought it all full circle for me.

At about the same time, the AWL finally got around to seeing the movie Prince of Egypt, notorious for Mariah Carey's/Whitney Houston's epic vocal cord battle during the closing credits, which he saw via Netflix. Took ya long enough, you might be thinking. That movie came out something like 15 years ago, didn't it?

Indeed, it did; but that is not the point here. I was reflecting on my experience of meeting this new couple as I watched the film. Moses, of course, was adopted into Egyptian royalty by the pharaoh's daughter. I already knew that part prior to seeing the movie. But another, larger, perhaps more important thought occurred to me:

I'm adopted, too.

Not literally, of course, as I definitely look physically like my father's son, hopefully share my mother's gentle nature, have my paternal grandmother's sense of humor (or so I'm told), etc. But I am adopted in that, according to a patriarchal blessing I received at age 18 and through covenants I have made, I am one with the House of Israel, a member of the tribe of Ephraim. And there are some amazing blessings promised to all those who are, literally or by adoption, of the House of Israel.

I suppose that the prevailing thought I had through all of this is that there is no real or important difference between being someone's literal offspring versus being adopted. The expectant parents I recently met are not going to love their child any less than caring and diligent parents who are able to conceive children through natural means, nor will the children grow to love their parents back with any less love or appreciation. Their many years of waiting, I'm sure, have taught them a good deal about patience and have prepared them for this moment.

The same certainly goes for the courageous young boy who spoke in my ward during yesterday's Primary program about his experience in foster care. There is are loving parents and a home for him, and all other foster kids, as well.

As someone who is both a literal son of God and of earthly "parents kind and dear," I'm grateful to belong to the families to which I belong. I have some pretty great brothers and sisters in them.

And as a credit card advertisement once touted, "Membership has its privileges."

A Different Kind of Letting Go

In his last post, the AWL spoke about the great love and courage possessed by a group of mothers who have given one or more of their children up for adoption. He is also beginning this post by speaking in the third person, because that's just what cool people like Karl Malone and the AWL do.

Today's post is about a different kind of letting go and one that is, likewise, motivated by love: breaking up with someone.

What?! you say. Dumping somebody is an act of love?! That miserable (guy/girl) who dumped me is a jerk and a poo-poo face and deserves to be tied down, smeared with peanut butter, and mauled by bears.

Yes, that is what I am saying.

This isn't always the case, of course. Some people are downright cruel when it comes to ending a relationship, taking the coward's way out. Rather than having "The Talk" with their significant others and trying to let them down as easily and as painlessly as possible, cowards instead take the indirect route, cutting off all communication (phone calls, texting, e-mails, de-friending the other person on Facebook, etc.), dive into the bushes to hide or wear a Groucho Marx disguise when the romantic partner approaches within a 100-yard radius, and basically go about ignoring and avoiding, hoping that the other person has enough horse sense to "get" the message. Some cowards may even go as far as moving to another state and legally changing their names.


If you think I'm making things up or exaggerating here, then either you don't know me very well, or you don't know some of the same people I know.

Another form of cowardice: Realizing that, for you, the relationship is all but over and you are sticking with it, but you are postponing and delaying breaking up because you don't want to "hurt" the other person. Unfortunately, this kind of behavior ends up hurting the other person a lot more than breaking it off sooner - and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't fallen into this pattern of thinking and behavior in the past, too.

On second thought, I suppose a better way of saying what I earlier tried to state may be that breaking up with somebody is an action that should be motivated by love. It's not one motivated by romantic love, of course, but one that is nevertheless motivated by love - love for the other person as a human being and as a child of God. It is a selfless rather than a selfish act. It is recognizing that the relationship is not making either or both of you truly happy, that it doesn't work, and that you can let that person go and yet have no hard feelings toward each other, thus giving you both an opportunity to find someone better.

Some people date and break up and get back together again and then repeat the cycle five or six more times (again, I'm not exaggerating here). It's much like that Taylor Swift song about never, ever getting back together - and yet it still happens. The truth is that there are only two options: The relationship either works, and you both move forward with it, or it doesn't. Sadly, many people break up, make up, and date again and again as if trying to make an elusive third option successfully work.

At any rate, I'm certainly no expert on the subject. I have also found myself on both sides of the equation. I think Howard Jones, as is the case many times with songs, says it much better than I can:

What is the greatest expression of love?
To let go and wish well

Since I am in my 30s and have the advantage of hindsight, I can look back on many of those relationships that didn't work out, and there is mainly only a sense of gratitude. It is a feeling that has replaced those negative feelings associated with both dumping someone else and being dumped. I have seen people I have dated go on to find a better relationship and marry someone else, and it's better for everyone involved; not that people are better than other people, but because people are different from each other.

My point is, I suppose, that it gets better.

It's about Love . . . and Courage

On Saturday evening, members of the Improvables, myself included, were invited to perform for Common Bonds, a local group sponsored and supported by LDS Family Services in Centerville. Though we are frequently hired to do improv shows away from our home turf, we soon found out that it would be no ordinary performance.

Common Bonds, as it turns out, is a group of mothers who, at one point or another in their lives, gave up a child or children for adoption. On the Saturday before Mothers' Day each year, they meet together as a show of support for one another and the difficult but important choices they have each made: to give these children a better life than they could have ever done at the time the children were placed for adoption.

Many of the mothers were unmarried when they made this difficult decision. A few were married but were in abusive relationships and preferred not to bring children into that sort of environment. There was even one expectant mother several months pregnant, and she planned to place her child for adoption. Each had an amazing story to tell, and it was clear that they were all motivated by a great deal of love, as well as a significant amount of prayer and thought, in their actions.

I gained a great deal of respect for these women as they shared their stories. It was a privilege to perform for them, and my co-actors and I had a great time in doing so.

Afterward, I had the chance to speak with a gentleman who was there as an adviser to the group, and I thanked him for the invitation for us to be there. He reminded me of another important quality that each of these women possesses: courage.

It certainly took courage for them to love their babies enough to let them go so that they could have better lives. It took courage for them to deal with an unplanned and an embarrassing situation and to make the very best of things. It also takes courage for them to meet together now and to stand for a very important cause.

I should also be sure to point out that those mothers who make the very difficult decision to keep and raise their children are no less loving or courageous.

For many of the mothers who were at Saturday's event, fortunately, there is a happy ending. Many of them were there with their fiancés and/or spouses and have gone on to have other children that they've been able to raise. There was also a mother who has adopted three children of her own.

It was one Mothers' Day holiday that I won't soon forget. Happy (belated) Mothers' Day to my own "angel mother" and to all of the great moms out there.