Sharing Goodness in a Dark World

It's relatively easy to become cynical, frustrated, jaded, etc. by all of the bad things we see not only taking place in foreign countries and across our nation but also in our communities and in our daily interactions with others. The Angry White Loner is certainly not immune from it and, admittedly, has shown it from time to time here on his blog.

Passive-aggressivism has long been one of my defense mechanisms. As I look back, it began to develop when I was bullied not once but twice in two different grades at two different junior high schools. Though I sometimes feel as if the compulsion or tendency is leaving me, I am reminded on occasion that it is still very much with me. This is not an excuse but rather an admission that it is a demon I still have to fight.

We all have them. They come in many shapes and sizes.

We are living in difficult times—some might even call them the "latter days." Prophets have both warned us about these days but have also reminded us that those who have faith and who are prepared shall not fear in the face of it all.

Just yesterday, I had a conversation with Angry White Brother in which I expressed a degree of frustration at some of the negativity I had encountered during the course of the week.

To attempt to make a long story short: Five years ago, football player from local university AWB graduated from and which we both support made some unfortunate comments about the arch-rival's school and fans. During the week, the news broke that said football player, currently retired from playing football himself and an assistant high school football coach in Arizona, had been arrested for shoplifting and had also been found in possession of illegal, addictive narcotics. The fallout from this breaking story included a number—not most, but some—of rabid fans of arch-rival school jumping on the opportunity to again label this person the devil incarnate and to use such words as "karma," "just desserts," and (I'm paraphrasing here) "neener neener." Some of the fans of the school AWB and I support, in turn, engaged some of these people in a battle of words.

Not a war of words, but most definitely a battle.

We men and our sports rivalries. We take it far too seriously—myself included. For some, it is a matter as serious as the Ebola virus or world hunger, which sadly are two very real problems faced by certain corners of the globe.

On behalf of my entire gender, ladies, I sincerely apologize for what utter dweebs we make ourselves look like sometimes.

Well, I couldn't make that long story short after all. To quote Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, however, "let me sum up" by stating that, in concluding our discussion over my frustration, AWB was the voice of reason and shared with me two simple words:

"Share goodness."

There's always going to be people who take trivial matters such as sports far too seriously, he said. There's nothing we can do about them. They're always going to be there. Both cockroaches and people who take sports far too seriously are the two species pretty well guaranteed to survive a nuclear holocaust (that last part was the AWL's editorial comment).

Nevertheless, AWB continued, we can combat all of the negativity swirling around out there by, much of the time, not even addressing it at all and instead heeding a recent call by a man I hold to be an Apostle of the Lord, Elder David A. Bednar, to help flood social media with positive messages about things that, rather than tear others down, instead inspire, uplift, and enlighten.

We can #ShareGoodness with the people around us.

Earlier today, a friend (thanks, Steve) posted this tweet on Twitter, which he retweeted from Scott Hanselman: "Other people's success does not diminish your own. Help people, don't hold them back."

Conversely, I might add: Other people's failures, mistakes, or sins do not elevate you nor anyone else. Forgive, just as you hope to be forgiven. After all, we are all beggars in the sight of God. Give others the benefit of the doubt.

How Does *He* Know?

I was listening to the old iPod the other day, shuffling through my playlist of Disney songs, when a familiar voice began to sing. It was the melodious voice of my favorite Disney princess, Giselle, played by Amy Adams—who hasn't really left the Church, ya know. She's just been inactive for past few decades.

Anyway, the song I refer to is "That's How You Know" from Enchanted. "Does he leave a little note to tell you you are on his mind?" she inquires. Does he "send you flowers when the sky is grey?" Or "does he take you out dancin' just so he can hold you close?" Or "dedicate a song with words in just for you?" "Don't treat her like a mind reader," she adds. Don't take her for granted!

All of these are valid and important questions in a relationship, Giselle and/or Amy. A man should do all of these things to let a woman know that he loves her, or else really really really likes her a lot, with chocolate syrup and a cherry on top.

Fair enough.

Generally speaking, though, men also tend to have a difficult time figuring out whether, after they've followed Giselle's advice and have done all of these things, or have at least attempted them, whether she loves him back, or even really really really likes him back.

This is partly due to the fact that women, often by their own admission: (1) tend to drop hints rather than to say directly what they are feeling or what they want, (2) can be driven by emotion more often than men are, and (3) can be confusing, as one tends to come from Mars, and the other from Venus. (Yes, ladies, I'm sure we're equally as confusing to you sometimes. Maybe more!)

Now, don't get all upset and write me nasty comments or e-mails. The Angry White Loner has said in the past that women are the world's biggest mystery, and he's just trying to figure out this part of their personalities right now. On this night, in this blog post. (No one person should take any of this personally.) He is actually looking for some practical advice, generally speaking, and is trying to foster a positive discussion on the topic, because his friends and readers, all six of them, give pretty good counsel. He would, in fact, welcome answers to any or all of the following questions:

Does she want to spend time with you, or is she just scared of being alone?

Does she see spending time with you as a priority or as an obligation?

Does she often claim to be "busy," or does she go out of her way to include you in her extracurricular plans?

Does she, you know, pretend like she acknowledges your existence out in public, and, if so, will she approach and/or talk to you when others are around? Are any and all dates carried out only when she's checked an re-checked the neighborhood for spies and gossipmongers?

Are you plan B, C, or D because her girlfriends happen to be busy that night?

Does she get excited for the next date because, just as Café Rio employees get excited on your 11th visit, a "Free Meal!" is coming?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Success

Week #10 on the Island of Misfit Toys: The wife of one of the counselors in our bishopric taught today's combined, fifth-Sunday lesson. Because, as we've all been hearing repeatedly for the past week, women have no real authority to teach and don't have a voice, nor can they really do anything at all significant in the Church.

No, seriously, I'm not going to get into that topic today.

This was an inspired lesson about "success" and the choices/behaviors/habits that will lead us to real, lasting success.

She began her lesson by passing out pieces of blank paper and asking us to write down specific actions or goals that would lead us to success. I began rather tongue-in-cheekily, jotting down a list that included:

- Getting 100 likes on a Facebook status

- The Jazz making a smart draft pick at #5

- USA winning the men's World Cup, or at very least not getting terribly, embarrassingly beaten by Belgium Tuesday

- Burning down the South and then doing baptisms for the dead

- Eating bacon

- Climbing atop the Rameumptom to thump your chest, and then shouting out to the world exactly why you and your kin and your entourage are better than everyone else. Use good grammar, and give specific examples.

- Having muscles and a jeep. Or a Mini Cooper. I won't judge.

- A six-figure salary. Or more!

- Owning your own mansion, fully staffed with a butler, maid, masseuse, personal trainer, jester, llamas, and other servants/pets (what's the difference, really?) you can apply the strap to mercilessly whenever you feel like it.

 - Beating everyone else at Mario Kart

By the world's standards, that's a pretty good list. Well, the world's standards, as usual, are wrong.

I also wrote a list of "real" reasons, which included:

- Keeping the commandments

- Being Christlike

 - Building up, rather than tearing down, others. True success is a win-win proposition whereas, according to the world, you must lose and I must win in order to be successful.

- Peace of conscience/mind

- Perspective

- Serving others

- Family

- Saying "please" and "thank you." A lot. Because some of the most miserable people I know are also some of the most ungrateful.

- Friends/being a friend, without regard to another's creed, religion, beliefs, sexual orientation, etc.

- Finding joy in the journey

- Magnifying my talents/callings

- Tender mercies of the Lord

I like the second list better. Also, I put "eating bacon" over on the second list.

Ex-Women: Days of Future Past

Some of my siblings and I went to a concert a couple of weeks ago, enjoying the music and new songs of a favorite band of ours that had just reunited for a new album and was touring again for the first time in seven years. One of the siblings' wives had traveled out of town unexpectedly the day before, so I got to attend in her place.

Not that I'm complaining about that. 'Cause I'm not.

Before introducing one of the songs, one of the band members asked those in the audience if they had ever dated a horrible or terrible person. Several hands went up, while others cheered or hollered. He then explained that the next song the band would play was taken from his "Bitter Box," and, though he had never dated someone he would call a "bad" person, the "Bitter Box" of music is his way of dealing with break-ups and relationships that did not go according to plan.

I really like the concept of the "Bitter Box." I'm not an Angry White Loner for no reason, after all.

At the same time, I also do not endorse bitterness as a way of life. Being "bitter," at times, is a normal, albeit "Natural Man," emotion, I think. I understand that. I have my own "Bitter Box" cache of music to help me get through break-ups—not as a means of pointing fingers or assigning blame to myself nor to anyone else but rather as a means of giving myself a few days—no more than a week at most—to sulk, to forgive, to heal, and then to "climb back on the horse" and begin dating again.

Like the writer/singer of that song, I can also claim that I have never dated a "bad" person, let alone a horrible or terrible person. In addition, I hope that no one who has dated me would ever think of me as a "bad" person, either, though I may have unwittingly given them a reason to do so. I'm a work in progress, and I make mistakes. Daily.

I've dated only good people who have made mistakes, too—and who are not at all "bad" but are, rather, "different." I've come to see a break-up as not a bad thing but as a good, necessary thing, though it sometimes is a pill that is nastier than cod liver oil to swallow. Nevertheless, I can choose to look at my dating experiences with bitterness, or I can choose to look at them as a learning experience, in which I have gained valuable insight into my own behavior, as well as lessons about women that will help me be better in my present and future opportunities.

Given the choice, I choose the latter.

Love Poetry for Dummies: "Not a DTR"

"Not a DTR"

This is not a DTR;
I wouldn't even call it close.
It just my way saying that
I really like you, I suppose.


I'm not infatuated, though
I often think of you at night;
I wonder if you think of me
As the one who'd hold you tight.


When we are together, I find
That the hours just disappear;
And when we're not together,
I count the hours until you're near.


It's not like I use four-letter words,
Like that "L" one that can be so scary;
But I find that I am falling in "like,"
And I choose not to leave it buried.


So, this is no "Somewhere Out There,"
And it's not "A Whole New World."
It's just one guy and his feelings,
Expressed awkwardly in these words.


If I had the words, like Keats or Browning,
Or in a ballad that I've been humming;
I'd say it in a better way;
Instead, I write poetry for dummies.

Equal, but Different

The next general conference of the Church is just a week away. Next Saturday night, a group of women who believe, for whatever reasons, that they are entitled to hold the priesthood will be lining up to demand entrance to priesthood session or will die trying.

Well, whatever floats your boat, I guess, ladies. You're in for a long battle if this is really the battle you want to fight. There are actually many worthwhile causes you could spend your time taking part in if you weren't so set on this crusade. Church spokesmen have already issued a statement on the matter, saying that this particular plan of attack actually detracts from a helpful discussion on the issue.

I've read a lot of blog posts and listened to many opinions on the topic, as I'm sure many of you have, too. I even spent some time today visiting the Ordain Women Web site, the founders of which are apparently "seeking equality and ordination to the priesthood." It's 10 minutes of my life that I will never get back.

For whatever it's worth, this Angry White Loner doesn't know why these women are so concerned about "equality" when women are, in fact, superior to men. I really believe that, and I'm not just pandering here, even though men have nothing that I want. Between the bearing of children and holding the priesthood, God gave the far more important responsibility to women. In the eyes of our Heavenly Father, all of His children are equal, though the genders were given different responsibilities.

Can you imagine what a disaster the human race would be if He had given it to men? I don't even want to think about it, in spite of what you may or may not think of the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie Junior.

I also know that, since turnabout is fair play, you won't see men wearing dresses to church to demand the same kind of comfortable chairs in elders quorum that the sisters have in Relief Society, nor will you see men lining up to demand entrance into tonight's first-ever general women's meeting at the Conference Center, because that would, likewise, be a pointless crusade.

I realize that there are some strong feelings on this matter and that I run the risk of never getting another date again after this post. So be it. I'm only stating what Church leaders have already taught, time and again, and what I feel has been confirmed to me by the Spirit of truth. Also time and time again.

For an excellent point-of-view on the entire issue, I highly recommend reading Women and the Priesthood by Sheri Dew, which I recently read. It says any and everything else that matters on the issue and does far better than I ever could.

Sports Rivalries and the Rameumptom

Once again, folks, it's time for Holy Week.

Or, to describe it more accurately, it's the time of the year when even 50- and 60-year-old men act like bratty teenagers and get into "my dad can beat up your dad" chest-thumping shouting matches with each other over something as trivial as a sporting event.

For those who don't live in Utah or who are not familiar with the phrase, the term Holy Week refers to the seven days leading up to the annual BYU vs. University of Utah football game, which culminates in (usually) a grueling and hard-fought grudge match that leaves the winning team with a great sense of pride and bragging rights and an "in-your-face" smugness and the losing team with a sense of embarrassment and shame that lingers for the next 365 or 366 days. Or longer.

It's all really very silly. It tends to turn otherwise sensible, decent, and good people into raving lunatics and jerks. It can ruin friendships. The rules of good sportsmanship are completely forgotten. And the silliest thing about it all, at least as far as I see it, is that neither team's fans have any control whatsoever over the outcome of the game.

The sore winner's bragging can basically be summed up this way: "The team that I root for beat the team that you root for, and even though neither you nor I have any impact on the result of the game, my association with said winning team makes me, as a result, better than you. It's even better if my team beats yours in a humiliating fashion. In order for me to be happy, we win, and you lose."

The sore loser, meanwhile, finds excuses for his or her team's loss ("it was the referees' fault" or "we had an inexperienced quarterback this year," for example) and berates or makes vulgar gestures toward the other team's fans. He/she will never, ever utter the words: "The better team won today. We will do better next year."

It's most definitely a guy thing, but, over the years, I have seen more than a few females get in on the hype, too. And, of course, it happens on both sides—both those who bleed blue and those who bleed red.

Holy Week reminds me of Chapter 31 in the Book of Alma, in which Alma, Aaron, Ammon, and a few others head out on a mission to Antionum to reclaim the apostate Zoramites and find them praying on top of something called the Rameumptom, which is translated as "the holy stand" (Alma 31:21).

Alma discovers the Zoramites praying: "We believe thou has elected us to be thy holy children . . . and thou hast elected us that we shall be saved, whilst all around us are elected to be cast by thy wrath down to hell; for the which holiness, O God, we thank thee; and we also thank thee that thou hast elected us, that we may not be led away after the foolish traditions of our brethren" (Alma 31:16-17).

Fortunately, the gospel is not "win-lose" but "win-win." We are exalted only by humbling ourselves and by helping those around us to be better, just as we try to improve ourselves day by day. In the words of U2 and Bono: "If you want to kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel."

It's okay to love your team and to want them to do well and win. I grew up in a sports-loving family, along with sports-loving parents and four sports-loving brothers who played basketball, football, soccer, softball, and about every other team sport (and a sister who came around when she met her sports-loving husband), and I've known no other way of life. I love it when my teams win and feel bad with them when they lose.

It's also possible to be an enthusiastic sports fan without climbing up on the Rameumptom—in other words, without being a jerk about it.

Steamy Windows

Sometimes, words simply fail me.

If you have read the Angry White Loner's blog on any previous occasion, you know that he can be somewhat of a Wordy McWordsmith. That, however, was not the case this past Monday night, when the security guard patrolling the local Olive Garden parking lot pulled up next to my vehicle---I can only assume she suspected some major hanky panky was going on inside, as the windows had fogged up a good deal---and told us that the lot had closed for the night, asking (commanding?) my female friend and me to leave the premises.

It all began, believe it or not, with family home evening. The mid-singles gathered around 6:15 p.m. to see a movie at the Kaysville Theater, our local dollar movie theater. Part of the group saw Ephraim's Rescue, while another part caught Turbo; a handful of friends and I ended up watching Monsters University, a very funny and worthy prequel to the 2001 Disney/Pixar film Monsters, Inc.

As much as we enjoyed the movie, that is just the beginning of the story. Following a stopover at Dylan's Drive-in for ice cream, the aforementioned female friend asked for a ride back to her car, which was located in the Olive Garden parking lot not too far away in Layton. She and her friends had been there for dinner together before the movie, and as the girls were good enough to save me a seat (I caught up with the group at the theater just prior to the movie's start, as I was running behind) for the film, I was more than happy to do so.

We pulled up next to her car and chatted for a while. As we did so, the warm summer evening quickly became, in a New York (Utah?) minute, a cool rainstorm. As a result of the changing temperature and humidity, the windows in my car quickly steamed up and became rather foggy.

The rest, I assume, you can put together from the details I have provided. With a sheepish grin on my face, I found myself opening my car door to explain to the security guard, "We're just talking in here!"

Additionally, I pointed to my neck to show her that it was completely hickey free.

Okay, so I made up that last part. Maybe. But that's my story. And I'm sticking to it.

Easier Than Telling the Truth

For those who are not familiar with the movie Office Space, it features one of the worst bosses of all-time: Bill Lumbergh.

What makes Lumbergh a despicable boss is not that he is rude or someone who is extremely difficult to get along with; quite the contrary, in fact, is true. The man is over-the-top nice and polite when conversing with his employees. What makes him loathsome is that, in his Ned Flanders-esque manner, he tells those who work for him to do horrible things, like coming in to work on both Saturdays and Sundays in addition to the regular Monday-Friday work week.

Over time, I have come to realize that I feel very much like a Lumbergh employee when someone either breaks up with me or turns me down for a date. Have you?

The "Lumbergh" is being as nice and polite as possible while telling you . . . well, horrible things, or perhaps things that still make you feel horrible about yourself even though it has been done in a nice, polite manner. The Lumbergh may say one thing while meaning something completely different, yet the result is still the same: You're being dropped like a rock.

Honesty can be a hard thing to convey, as a recent song by Kris Allen proclaims. Saying the Lumbergh-isms we've all been culturally programmed to say are certainly "easier than telling the truth."

As a result of these kinds of situations, and I'm sure we've all been through them, the Angry White Loner is providing a public service today by telling you what a person really means when he/she is breaking up with you or rejecting you for a date.

No need to thank me!

"I'm just not looking for a relationship right now": I am not looking for a relationship with you, puke nose.

"I'm just taking a break from dating right now": I am not looking for a relationship with you, puke nose. I'll probably be dating some other guy again in a week and will even post about it on Facebook and/or my blog, since we're friends and all and you can read all about it.

"You're a really nice guy, but . . .": Everything that comes after but means that you're just not *that* nice of a guy for me to hang with. Well, I mean, after you pay the bill at La Caille, then you're not.

"I already have plans that night." Can I get a what-what for some Halo?!

"I'm just too busy right now.": I have 24 hours in a day, same as you. But I also have a TiVo full of "Greys Anatomy"s and "American Idol"s and such to watch right now. Plus, as president of the George Clooney Fan Club, I have a lot of correspondence to catch up on. Truthfully, you may rank something like #84 on my list of priorities right now. #83 is changing my cat's kitty litter.

"You're such a good friend - like a brother!": You've been friend-zoned, sucka!

"I really don't feel that much of a connection with you.": I don't want to mace you, but I will if you ask me for my number once more.

"I'll try to come.": I won't come.

"I'll maybe try to come.": I definitely won't be there.

Love Poetry for Dummies: "A Bona Fide Mystery"

"A Bona Fide Mystery"

It's been said that love is a battlefield;

It can also be a bona fide mystery.

I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but I spend much of my time

Trying to deduce the workings of sister-y.

I'm checking the facts, gathering clues,

Trying to see what it all means.

Scouring the scene, leaving no stone unturned,

But so far, I've not come up with beans.

She hides her true feelings like the color of her hair;

Each new month is a different tint or shade.

And now she's thinking or making it blue,

Or green, pink, purple, or jade.

It's hard for me to know if I'm coming or going;

If the door to her heart is open or closed.

But I'll try to be patient as I am kept waiting -

However long it may take, I suppose.

People Are More Important

The other day, I was working on my laptop at McDonald's - Mickey D's, in case you were not aware, not only has (arguably, I realize) good food but also free Wi-Fi - when I couldn't help but overhear a conversation between a rather frustrated father and his teenage son over on the table adjacent to me.

The situation was basically this: The boy was paying a lot more attention to his iPhone than to his father, to his meal, or to basically anything else going on around him. I don't know if he was texting or playing Angry Birds or what, but he was far more involved in the virtual world than in the real one. The father did not like this. He repeatedly asked his son to put the phone away. Finally, the father said, "People are more important than iPhones."

This is not the kind of wisdom one normally expects to hear at McDonald's or at most any other public place, for that matter. But I feel that it was a profound statement nonetheless.

In my own travels, it has not been uncommon to see a good number of people paying more attention to their iPhones, iPods, iPads, flux capacitors, or what-have-you than to other people, and it usually makes me feel sad for these folks. There are the more-obvious examples of this happening, such as people texting while driving their cars or a couple having a text conversation while sitting right next to each other. There are also the less-obvious examples, which include people sitting alone in a corner, away from the crowd at a social event, texting someone else and essentially giving out the message that "present company" is just not that important. I am also told that there are people who stay up into the wee hours of the morning texting their friends for hours on end.

Don't get me wrong; like Kip in Napoleon Dynamite, I love technology, and it has done a great deal to improve all of our lives and the way that we communicate. I'd rather have a text conversation with someone than no conversation at all, or I'd prefer to send out a mass text to, for example, my improv troupe when it would save me the effort of making 30 different phone calls. But texting is something like #15 on my list of preferred communication methods, and I'd much rather have face-to-face interaction with people. Also, the purpose behind texting, for the most part, is with the goal in mind of seeing that person or persons in a face-to-face setting later on.

But Angry White Loner, you say. You send me about as many texts as everyone else does.

To which the AWL replies: That's quite possibly true. How about we meet up face-to-face and discuss it over dinner sometime?  Your treat, of course. ("You," in this case, is a single woman that the AWL wants to get to know by sending random flirty texts.)

Admittedly, if he were Superman, the AWL's kryptonite would be talking to women on the phone; he doesn't deny it. (Speaking of which, the AWL has a ticket to see the new Superman reboot Man of Steel this Saturday, and he wants to get in on the hype. There may very well be a movie review forthcoming.)

At any rate, perhaps that's a topic for another blog post. And perhaps the wise McDonald's father's message was meant for me just as much as it was meant for everyone else. Speaking of whom, if we ever meet again, sir, it will be my privilege to buy you anything you want from the dollar menu.

Your treat, of course.

When Stalking Turns to Love (A True Story)

Back when Instant Messaging was a more popular thing for people to do on the computer, I often chatted online with a female friend whom, for purposes of this post, I'll call Kelly. Kelly lived in the Salt Lake valley, not that far from me, and after we had gone on a couple of dates together, it soon became apparent we were destined to be no more than friends.

Nevertheless, we often carried on IM conversations about all sorts of topics, among which was what she observed to be the many ridiculous happenings at her workplace. She was a librarian, and together we came up with the name "Paper Cuts" for the very soap opera-like drama that surrounded her on a daily basis. One day, she also happened to mention that she had a co-worker who, for all intents and purposes, was stalking her.

From the first paragraph of this post, I'll bet you all thought that the AWL was going to be the stalker of this story - right?

Uhh . . . right?

*Long pause*

At any rate, Kelly went on to give me frequent daily updates about the antics of her stalker, a co-worker whom I'll call Kyle. She even gave him the nickname, "The Trailer," as he was often seen following her around the library where they both worked, usually to her great discomfort.

Before long, Kelly and I lost touch, and several months passed before I found her online again one day. She updated me on the "Paper Cuts" saga but, most importantly, announced that she was engaged to be married.

"Who's the lucky guy?" I asked. "It's not The Trailer, is it?" I was, I thought, completely kidding.

*Even longer pause*

As a matter of fact, she told me, Kyle, aka The Trailer, was indeed the lucky guy. His "trailing" and what she initially described as stalking-like maneuvers won her over, and they were now madly in love.

To say I was speechless would be an massive understatement. I'm just as perplexed as you are, men.

The rest, as they say, is history. I relate the story both because I've not previously done so and also because they just celebrated another wedding anniversary.

The moral of the story: Stalking, apparently, can pay off.

Uhh . . . right?

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.

Love Poetry for Dummies: "Backhanded Compliments"

"Backhanded Compliments"

I received your card dated Thursday last week;
They are words that I'll cherish and savor.
And now, in my own humble manner and words,
I'll kindly return you the favor.

I saved every one of your love letters, she said,
But your writing's not clever or sage;
After all, it's a crime to waste paper,
And I needed to line the bird's cage.

Most people find you funny and charming, I guess;
But, of course, "most people" also elected Obama;
For charming's just a prince in a fairy tale,
And who really needs that false kind of drama?

When we met, you were tall, dark, and handsome;
But five minutes later, I came to my senses.
I saw someone short, light, and ugly when I
Put in my contact lenses.

I look forward to each new date spent with you
Like I look forward to paying my taxes;
Did you really think this was all going somewhere?
I'm just holding out until your last credit card maxes.

So, this is just to say, I love you more than my luggage;
It's old and broken, and I need a new set of bags.
On second thought, I like my luggage better than you;
And all of this rhyming is making me gag.

Hopes and Dreams

In improv, we play a game called "Musical" in which we create - you guessed it - a musical. However, instead of having the three hours' length of a Les Misérables or a My Fair Lady with which to make Broadway magic happen live, one of the challenges of this game is to condense (cram?) the plot and songs for a musical into an eight- or 10-minute short-form delivery.

Impossible? You might think so. But somehow, we make it happen time and again.

Anyway, one of the key elements of putting together this kind of "Musical" is the inclusion of a protagonist, who sings what we call a "Hopes and Dreams" song to state what he/she wants out of life. Lo and behold, we spend the next seven minutes or so making those hopes and dreams become a reality.

Real life, unfortunately, does not always turn out this way. What we hope, dream, and, quite often, yearn and pray for does not come to pass, or at least it does not transpire in the way we expect it would.

One of the best examples of someone's expectations not being fulfilled, at least in my mind, is illustrated by a rather poignant - and heartbreaking - scene in the movie (500) Days of Summer. The protagonist, Tom, played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, is desperately in love with Summer, played by Zooey Deschanel. In the scene I refer to, the screen shows a side-by-side comparison of Tom's expectations - I daresay his hopes and dreams - of an encounter with Summer, with the other half of the screen showing what really takes place. The problem is that the "Principle of Least Interest" (something I actually remember from college; you can Google it if you want), which states that the person who cares the least about a relationship has all of the power, is at work here. Summer is not as interested in Tom as Tom is interested in Summer, and, in the side of the scene depicting reality, he is disappointed time and again as his expectations of her loving him back are unmet.

I identify with this scene because the same sort of "great expecations" (if I can borrow a phrase from Dickens) scenarios have played out in my head multiple times only to be crushed and destroyed by reality. I'm sure that many of you could say the same of some of your own experiences. The Principle of Least Interest can be a harsh teacher but a teacher nonetheless.

However, I don't think the answer is to stop hoping and dreaming, for, as Shakespeare wrote in The Tempest, "we are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep." To also borrow a line from Ryan Shupe and the Rubberband: "When you dream, dream big; as big as the ocean blue. 'Cause when you dream, it might come true." Anyone who ever accomplished anything worthwhile has followed this train of thought and see it to its fruition.

Something Tom learns at the end of (500) Days of Summer - and this is a SPOILER ALERT for those who still want to see the film - is that summer is followed by autumn. In Tom's case, his relationship with Summer is very literally followed by meeting a girl named Autumn.

The application, as I take it, is that one unmet expectation does not necessarily mean another unmet expectation. In other words, it's still good and worthwhile to hope and dream, even though some people come into our lives to wake us from those dreams or even serve as nightmares of a sort. Granted, we have to wake up from those dreams and go to work and be patient as we try and try again, but there is a happy song waiting at the end of your show. Or my next improv show.

Lowered Expectations?

The relatively new film The Perks of Being a Wallflower arrived in the mail yesterday from Netflix. I watched it with great interest.

Don't worry, folks. This isn't going to be another movie review, as the AWL has already posted a couple of those lately. I merely wanted to focus on one particular thought-provoking scene from the film.

The main character, Charlie, is a high school student who develops a major crush on Sam, one of his classmates. (Sam, by the way, is played by Emma Watson in one of her first post-Harry Potter roles.) The only problem, however, is that Sam is dating someone who's not really a very good person for her (or for anyone else), and she seems to be somewhat oblivious to the fact that Charlie likes her, much to his frustration. He's fretting over this fact when he asks his English teacher, Mr. Anderson---one of the few adults he feels he can talk to---about it.

"Why do nice people choose the wrong people to date?" he wonders.

"We accept the love we think we deserve," comes the reply.

It's a very profound response to a question that, I think, we all wonder about at times. It also leads me to a follow-up question: "Why do people, then, feel like they deserve so little or that they don't deserve something better?"

The answer (or answers), I believe, is not an easy one, because people are so different by nature. Some people, for example, choose to date certain other people because they are scared of being alone and fear that they will not meet anyone else who will want to be with them, or perhaps they are tired of waiting around for someone who meets those standards. Consequently, someone who falls below what these people really want is better than no one at all. I call this the "Good Enough for Now" syndrome, if I can borrow the title of a "Weird Al" Yankovic song that pretty well reflects this very idea. (If you haven't heard it, download it from iTunes - now! You won't be sorry.)

Others are attracted to a person not necessarily by the person him/herself but by something else that comes with that person, such as good looks, money, a nice car, etc. Don't get me wrong; there's nothing wrong with any of these things. They are all things I'm looking for in a mate. But when there's no personality to go with them, or the person is not someone who can carry on a conversation, I think, there will be problems.

Don't even get me started on the phenomenon of women who fall in love with convicted murderers---yes, convicted murderers---because they believe they are the only ones who "understand" them or they can "change" them.

Single men out there: Let the thought that there are women who are in love with convicted murderers, and not you, lull you to sleep tonight. (Yes, I realize that it goes both ways, too. Probably.)

I recently had a conversation with a close family member in which the subject of dating happened to come up and also the fact that I am now the lone, remaining single member of my siblings. (By the way, thanks for reminding me about that, family member.) This person pointed out that there had been several girls interested in me over the years, and I had certainly had my "chances." While I recognized that this was, technically, true, I was quick to point out that had I gone ahead with any of the relationships in which I was the one to break things off, I would have ended up being miserable. The same goes, I'm sure, for those relationships in which the girl was the one to break things off.

That's at least one thing I have on my conscience: I did not let go of anyone I shouldn't have let go of. Going forward in the present and future, that idea will be my guide, and I certainly don't want a single female to "settle" for me, either.

No one should ever have to. I want to find someone who not only is a good person at heart but who also makes me want to be a better person than I now am (not hard to do, I freely admit), who makes me count down the days and the hours when she is away, and who makes me ache at the thought of losing her. I would hope that she would feel the same way about me.

As children of God, we all deserve so much. And if we, as Latter-day Saints, truly believe in eternal relationships and marriage, then eternity is a long time to pass with someone we have merely "settled" for. Conversely, it will be paradise, indeed, with someone we truly love and cherish along for the ride.

Mr. Nice Guy

What's so good about being nice? Sometimes, we members of the male gender are left to ponder deeply on that question.

The problem with being told that we are "nice" or "great" or some sort of equivalent of the term is that it is so often followed by the conjunction but and then a less-than-flattering or backhanded compliment such as, "I'd rather drink a whole bottle of ipecac than go on another date with you."

Okay, to be fair, I've never been dumped with those exact words. But when a girl tells you in no uncertain terms that she's not interested in continuing to pursue a relationship with you, being the gentleman that you are and all, it can sure feel that way.

I don't know if women are naturally programmed to tell you you're "nice" as a means of softening the blow, or whatever their motivation may be. To the guy who is about to get dumped - and, believe me, he knows it's coming - it is something of a death sentence. It's like walking into the dentist's office. You know that an unpleasant experience is about to happen, but you know that you have to do it. The times I've been told I'm "nice" or "a good person" just before a breakup, it honestly does not make me feel one bit better about myself.

I think I should state for the record that I also don't think women intend to be cruel when they do this. I think nature or society or whatever programs us to be this way - both the woman telling the man that he is "nice" and the man feeling like, as gentle or polite as the woman may have been in telling him this, he has just been the victim of Mola Ram's tearing-your-still-beating-heart-out-of-your-chest Thuggee ritual in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Keep in mind that when actor Christian Bale went on his now-famous rant on the set of The Dark Knight back in 2008, he first told the lightning director or assistant gaffer or whoever it was who had ruined his shot: "You're a nice guy!" He then proceeded to rip the man's head off, deep fry it in vegetable oil, smear it with buffalo sauce, and then take large bites out of it. In a verbal sense.

What to do, then, boys? If being "nice" is actually such a bad thing, what should be our course of action? Is the solution to stop being "Mr. Nice Guy" and become a jerk? This is another question that keeps many in my gender puzzled. Quite often, we look around us and see guys who are jerks to us, as well as to many others, with no lack of female companionship on the weekends. I feel sorry for those female companions, because sooner or later they're in for a world of hurt.

I honestly don't know the answer, so perhaps that is why I pose these questions. One thing I do know: It is better to be kind. It is better to strive to be a good person. It is perhaps best of all to love others as our Savior would. Our actions should not be motivated by what we either expect to receive from others or how we expect to be treated in return but from a sincere, personal desire to love our neighbors as we love our Father in Heaven.

One final thought: Someone who sees the goodness in you and recognizes that as something attractive rather than something repellent is really the kind of person we're all, deep down, looking for anyway, isn't it?

Post-Valentine's Apocalypse: Seven Days Later

Valentine's Day was a week ago. Have you recovered yet?

As for me, I'm suprisingly doing well. But Valentine's Day wasn't always that way.

A couple of years ago, I met a girl I in whom I was very interested. We shared many things in common. She was beautiful, cheerful, witty, outgoing, had a good sense of humor, and, further, she even showed up at some of my improv shows to watch me act like an idiot and would then still speak to me afterward!

She even had a first date with me and told me she looked forward to a second and a third. I do not favor texting as a principal means of communication per se, but she and I lived an hour apart, and we frequently communicated by phone and text in between our face-to-face meetings. I remember thinking something along the lines of, "This is either going to turn out great, or it is going to hurt a lot."

It turned out to hurt a lot. In early February, the phone calls and text gradually stopped. I chalked this up to her being busy with work or something akin to it. Finally, after a week with no communication, I wrote her an e-mail - the only way in which I felt I could properly express myself - basically telling her that I enjoyed her company a lot but that I could see a familiar pattern of withdrawal emerging and that she didn't have to go on ignoring me. I hoped beyond hope I was wrong, but you never know, and I try to always give people the benefit of the doubt.


My suspicions, unfortunately, turned out to be correct. According to the response she sent on February 12, she had received my message on the very day that her ex-boyfriend of "more than a year ago" (her words) was getting married to someone else. It had been a hard breakup, she explained, and though she thought she was over it, it turned out that she wasn't, and this was her way of telling me that it was also now over between her and me with those fateful words I have come to hear more than once: "I'm just not looking for a relationship right now."

More than a year ago! For me, that was the worst part of it all. I read that phrase over and over and wanted to scream all the way down to Provo, just so she could hear it, "Get over it then! He's obviously moved on; why shouldn't you? There is someone who wants to be with you right now."

Valentine's Day that year was a terrible time for me. My brother ended up taking the ticket I had intended for her to use and went with me to a benefit concert on Valentine's Eve. While the performers sang about romantic things, and couples in attendance held hands and danced and gazed into each other's eyes longingly and all of that good stuff, I wanted anything else but to be there. What I really wanted to do was to punch a hole in the wall or drop-kick a kitten or anything that would make me feel even the slightest bit better or less bitter about things.

I also let myself sulk about things basically all February long. In time, I found that a break-up had, indeed, left me unable to pursue a healthy relationship with someone else and that I had to get over it and move on with my life.

Sound at all familiar?

Believe it or not, though the AWL may have a reputation of being an angry loner, he is something of a romantic. By that, I don't mean that I am Rudolph Valentino or Brad Pitt or - heaven help us - the equivalent of what Edward "the mopey vampire" Cullen is to teenage girls and 40+-year-old women.

I have more than 4,000 songs in my music library, and among them you will find many cheesy love songs, including every decade from the 1940s to the present. I am also not afraid to admit that I have, on more than one occasion, wept at the conclusion of a romantic story or movie. I still root for the guy to end up with the (right) girl. I even read a lot of poetry in college as part of my English literature minor studies, and among my favorites are the the poets of the Romantic era (early 19th century): Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth, etc.

Above all, I believe our Creator has endowed each of us with a want - nay, a need - to love someone and to be loved in return; someone we will choose to be fiercely loyal to and will do anything for and will sacrifice any and all comforts to make happy. I want someone to confide in, to lean on, to cry with, to laugh with - whatever may come. I want to have all of the gooey-ness that the couples at the Valentine's concert had to share with each other. And I want that someone to feel the same way about me

In spite of me being in my 30s, I have not given up hope that it will happen someday - but I have to move on. I have to keep trying and try again. I may meet someone who even makes me feel that "this is either going to turn out great, or it is going to hurt a lot." But that's a chance everyone has to take at one point or another.