__IMAGE1__"Trying to be everything... but myself"
Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Boy asks girl out. Girl accepts. Boy kisses girl. Girl kisses boy. Boy gives girl a ring. Girl screams YES! The inevitable Facebook "wedding" album ensues. Boy and girl live happily ever after. Sound easy? For some, yes. For me? Haha.
I'm not bitter. No really, I'm not. I happen to actually like who I am, where I am, and what I am. Who I am is a 24-year-old 3-year returned-missionary. Where I am is in my last year at BYU-Idaho. And what I am, is Mormon. More specifically, a Mormon guy. Even more specifically, a Mormon guy who happens to be romantically challenged.
By romantically challenged I mean that I have lived, in the 8 years passing the spiritual legal dating age of 16, a series of unfortunate-ness in the grand world of Mormon dating. I have loved another and not been loved back. I have been loved and not loved back. I have suffered the unanswerable perplexity of the "bad-timing" phenomenon. I have been too forward and been ignored. I have not been forward enough and let love pass me by.
While I happen to think that I am just a normal guy looking for love, some beg to differ. Some say that if I were normal then I would be married by now. But I guess it just hasn't worked out for me yet, and you know what? I'm all right with that.
The discovery of this complacency with my current marriage-less status did not come naturally, or easy for that matter. I think it has taken longer for me than others to discover who I really am and what kind of dater I want to be.
Up until recently, my efforts in dating have been all over the place. I eventually discovered, in my labors to woo, that I had been trying to be everything... except myself.
I once liked a girl so much that I let the opinion of others and their critique and instructions influence and overshadow the person I am. I did everything they told me to do in order to persuade her to like me. I even pretended to like her annoying favorite TV show just so she would notice me. I texted. I cooked. I cologned. I excessively worked out. I bought a new wardbrobe.
Eventually, she liked me. I liked her. I asked her out. She accepted. Things grew, but not that excitedly. It wasn't natural, and I fear it was because of me. I was trying too hard and ultimately it led to the demise of this could-have-been relationship. I became what I thought was the kind of boy that she would love; when in reality I just wasn't being myself.
I am glad I had this epiphany, only because it can get frustrating to be an un-married man at 24, especially in Mormon customs. But since I have discovered this I have also discovered the kind of dater I want to be: just me. Because in the end, that's all the girl of my dreams can ask for.
Craig Shipley, from Salinas, Calif., is a senior at BYU-I where he is studying communications, advertising and graphic design.
__IMAGE2__Picking pastries Imagine you are wandering the streets of France when the aroma of fresh-baked pastries strikes your natural man like a bolt of lightning. Suddenly you realize that this perfect day would be far more enjoyable were it shared. So, you set your sites on the local Boulangerie and head self-assuredly through the door to find a pastry companion.Though mere moments before you had been contently meandering about your way, now nothing is more important than finding a pastry with which to share your day. The small wrinkled woman at the counter must have seen hunger in your eyes, as she explains in broken English with a twinkle that her pastry sales are limited to one per customer.
Upon inspection, the variety and distinction of each treat is remarkable. Scouring over hundreds of pastries, it seems impossible to settle on just one. Some are round, others thin; some exquisite, others are simple. Some slathered in frosting and dribbled with glaze. As minutes turn to hours and indecision continues to reign, you can't help but notice several other customers buzzing in, selecting a pastry, and heading on their way — pastry in hand. Annoyed at the ease of their selection, you finally find the one. Your little delight is baked to perfection, complimented with cream, and dusted in powdered sugar. Excitedly you indicate your choice, count your coins, and wait palm extended.
The peculiar woman unexpectedly turns away from you, crouches, and consults with your chosen pastry. After an eternity, the gray-haired beauty shakes her head. She mutters something in broken English that sounds all too much like, "It's not you, it's him." She motions expectantly toward a row of Eclairs and a sheet full of jelly-filled donuts. Dejectedly you decline. The bell tinkles as you make your way back outside to the summer evening, baffled at your experience in the magic pastry shop where not only did you have to select just one pastry, but your pastry had to pick you. It seems nearly impossible that with thousands of pastries, and hundreds of customers, any likely pair would ever leave content. You could have sworn you were made for your pastry, and your pastry for you. With a sigh of defeat, you have to smile to yourself. There had been some beignets that caught your eye. You'll come back tomorrow. And thus is the life of an LDS single: In and out of the magic pastry shop, day after day. Some days we arrive optimistic and enthused, others exhausted and defeated, every day hoping for our pastry match. People stop us on the street, their delectable pastry in hand, to tell us we are looking at the wrong kind of pastry, or that it simply isn't that hard. We try to take their advice, and listen kindly. We watch them, many of them, come in and out of the shop every day — each smiling at their success.
We'll keep coming back. One day it will be our day. Right?Twenty-three-year-old Melissa Hansen is currently "loving" the single life in Salt Lake City. She is also a nursing student at Weber State University.