We the People

So I live in the United States of America, and have lived there for most of my life. Like your average American child, I went through an education system which educated us on US History. There are a few things I specifically recall about my elementary education years, and the history lessons I received. 

Surprisingly, the first thing I recall is that Eastern Canada had a lot of French traders, who were trading in furs. I probably remember this first, because of all the raccoon roadkill I saw on my mission there, so obviously I'm biased. I remember driving down Canadian highways thinking to myself how EASY it would be, as a trader, to get rich in raccoon furs nowadays. All you would need is a shovel and a highway...

I guess the first (US) American bit of history I think of is the Emancipation Proclamation. I wrote a paper on it, and had a lot of help from my dad - a history buff. My dad let me know that the Emancipation Proclamation wasn't all about good feelings towards slaves, but was also a political move on Lincoln's part, as well. It was a move to weaken the South, who depended on slave labor. I'm sure there was more to it, as well, but that was one thing he mentioned.

Another? The Revolution. Obvious choice. Tea parties, redcoats, and all the things that made the United States what it is today. It was their first stand against oppression. Taxation without representation. I have to say, the heroes of the time period were inspiring. 

So George Washington might not have done that whole "Prayer at Valley Forge" thing, but he was a religious man. Most of them were. They were people of tremendous faith, with strong beliefs, who did their best to form a government that would protect them, and preserve their country. What they did was nothing short of a miracle, and as an American, I can say, I appreciate what they did for us. I have studied their lives, the words they wrote, and the stands they took. They were inspired men, full of great love for their families and their God. These are the men who penned the words, "In God we Trust." To add, I think it's worth noting, I don't believe these were bloodthirsty men. I think the actions they took, they sincerely believed were good, just, and necessary for their lives, safety, and well-being. 

So this is not just a patriotic blog post. (Of course. I'm always trying to bring up social problems, as I see them.)

My husband and I have lived at our apartment in Provo ever since we got married. One of the first things I noticed, moving in, was our downstairs neighbor had interesting... taste...

That's right. That's "We the People" from the Constitution, with an awesome gun underneath it, plastered across the back of their truck window. But I'm not sure that the two stickers go well together. (Other than the obvious 2nd Amendment and the NRA, of course.) (Right to bear arms wasn't the founding fathers' idea, either, actually. That was just a given right of the day and age. Not inspired doctrine. Side-note...)

Those founding fathers, who wrote "We the People," had just finished telling King George that governments are supposed to take care of their people, and if the King wasn't going to care about them, they would be forced to form a government that DID. For me, "We the People" is a symbol of one of the greatest "boundary setting" documents ever forged! It was well thought out, it was thorough, and it was rational. It stated that lives are important, all men are created equal. These writers are the same people who declared their "firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence." 

One reason I can think of for why my neighbor would have a gun sticker underneath a "We the People" sticker on his truck, then, would be that he's an avid hunter, or could be concerned for protecting his home, and needs an assault rifle to do so, and he's setting that boundary, just like the founding fathers stated! Or, he really could just have a great love of the military, as the other sticker on his truck would suggest. (His wife is a soldier.) 

But ultimately, I think I know why he has such a giant gun under those words. I think my neighbor just really likes the good old American value of fighting the crap out of anybody who stands in your way, because you're right! - which I believe is a misinterpretation of the motivation of our original founding fathers. 

I want to talk about this attitude. It's rampant, and is, in fact, the key reason for why I can't echo the sentiment, "I'm Proud to Be an American" - because this attitude is the driving force behind that statement, and, unfortunately, the prevailing patriotic attitude at large, in this country. That attitude is the very thing that makes the US so unlikable to the rest of the world. (Correct me if I'm wrong!) I'm tired of Americans assuming that they know what is best for everyone, whatever they think is 100% right, whatever they do can go without consequences, all while being completely oblivious to what is REALLY going on in the rest of the world. 

Instead, our government tears itself apart with budget battles, and the headlines on CNN tell us only that Jolie has chickenpox, Prince George has cute Christmas photos, and Taylor Swift is HOW old??? The headlines have quickly forgotten the CIA torture cover-ups. It reeks of corruption of government, so it wasn't popular. We don't like to hear when we're wrong. We don't like to be told that sometimes, maybe we didn't handle that situation right. Or worse, we justify our actions. 

So what is right? How do we know? Our founding fathers had their opinions. They used words like "God," "Creator," and "Honor." They believed "right" was defined and determined by God, not by popular consensus or minority complaints. When people treated these, our founding fathers, unfairly, they responded with patience. They appealed, they petitioned (humbly, they noted), they attempted to work with those that opposed them. They didn't jump ship after the first offense. The Declaration of Independence, that started this whole country, had a list of well over 20 abuses and usurpations which occurred prior to their declarative stand. These people tried VERY HARD to work with everyone else, before they "pulled out the big guns," so to speak, and told King George they weren't taking it anymore.

How many abuses do we take, now, before attacking? Heck, sometimes I think we attack before we even know the whole story! We just assume that we're right, and we have the power to make people respect that! I'm not just talking about our government, either. I'm talking about We the People. The police are corrupt! Obama said this, that, or the other! All Muslims are terrorists! That Christian pastor won't marry us! Putin attacked Ukraine because he's evil! Grace is anti-American because she wrote a blog post saying negative things! ETC, ETC! 

I'm not saying I'm innocent, either. I can be a product of my society, just as much as the next person is. But I also happened to be raised by a hippie foreigner, and that balances things out, sometimes. 

Mum raised us with the familiar phrase, "God Bless the Whole World - No Exceptions," in response to the "God Bless America" bumper stickers. And why shouldn't He? What makes America better? We try not to even say the word "Freedom" around my mum. Land of the Free? Australia is free-er. Fact! The United States isn't even in the top 10. Freedom. We're not even the most Democratic. Democracy. But being in 36th place just doesn't sell bumper stickers, or inspire people to join the army, so... 

Did my mother point these things out because she hates America? Well, I can't speak for her, so I honestly don't know, but I don't think so. My mother said something, once, that has stuck with me. She said, "I'm not a hippie because I'm angry. I'm a hippie because I'm hurt." 

I don't say these things because I'm inspired by reckless rage and angst, and have no choice but to vent my negative emotions out at humanity via blog posts. I say these things because I sincerely believe that something is wrong, and I hope, maybe vainly, that something might happen for the good, some day, because I said something.

The US is straying away from our roots. And I love those roots! With all my heart! When I think of the founding fathers, I can sincerely say I AM proud (in an awed kind of way) to be an American. But we're not those people, anymore. But I'm going to be optimistic and say that we COULD be. (The first step is to accept you have a problem.) 

We may not always be right - and to boldly and loudly declare that we are, in an aggressive show of arms, is not the way to handle uncertain circumstances. If you are tempted to fight, you must first make it a matter of prayer, and seek an answer in your heart. You must be certain that this is a battle God wants you to fight, or He will not support you in it - and yes, it's not a free pass to God's assistance just because you're an American, or just because you're you. To act as if it is is to risk fighting on a battlefield you should not even be on. In drawing others onto that battlefield, you assume some responsibility for their actions there - as a mother who indoctrinates her children into her life of poverty and addiction holds some responsibility for their lack of insight into the downfalls of such life choices. 

We cannot be afraid to involve God in every matter of our lives. The current American attitude of "rightness" attempts, covertly, to replace truth and faith in God with faith in the philosophies and "truths" of men. "It is 'right' to fight, because they hurt us." "It is 'right' to compromise my values, because it's embarrassing otherwise." "It is 'right' to let her do that, because that's freedom..." It's not always easy to see where the line is, but God knows what the "right" choice is, every time. 

Dear Neighbor

Dear Neighbor,

Due to our work schedules, my husband and I are often trying to sleep anywhere from as early as 8-10 at night. This, however, has been difficult, due to your incessant tromping around in the middle of the freaking night, you selfish wretches! the noise level coming from your apartment, directly above us.

We hate to be "those" neighbors, but we, the neighbors directly below you, hate you need your help.

I recognize that our complaint may come across as blaming, because it is, and that you may feel there is nothing you are doing wrong. But you ARE wrong, and... We are grateful you're not throwing crazy parties, and really, the only complaint we have is that your walking sounds like a stampeding herd, your steps sound fat, you walk around too much, your walking is slightly loud.

Do you really have to walk in and out of the bedroom every ten seconds? Do you really have to walk around the bedroom so much? Have you considered surgery for your fat feet? Between 8-10 at night, when we are trying to fall asleep, we can hear you walking about your bedroom. Because of the fact that we live in a cheap apartment, the floors and ceilings are quite thin, and your heel-strikes piss us off to the max, reverberate quite loudly. You should take up river-dancing.

Could you just stop walking? I know this is difficult to solve, as you can't just stop walking around your apartment. Could you just stop breathing? We would ask if you might be able to be consciously aware of walking quietly during nighttime hours. I sincerely doubt you even care, but we can dream. It would really help us out. Fatty.

Sincerely,
Your Neighbors

Coming next week, a letter to the crazy, militant neighbors DOWNSTAIRS. 

Warm Up With An Egg

A typical routine, Monday through Friday, begins simply. My husband wakes me up before running off to work, around 5:45 in the morning. We say a prayer and he kisses me goodbye, and then I tuck myself BACK into the bed and sleep for another hour and a half. Some days I dream about staying awake – cleaning the house, washing the dishes, writing, watching a movie, reading a book – basically anything other than continuing to sleep. But I never do. I always sleep.

I finally wake up around 7:15 and rush to get ready. Sometimes I snooze until 7:30, but when I do this, I don’t have enough time to throw something together for breakfast or lunch, and so I end up just having to buy food at work – which is always more expensive, and always more unhealthy…

At work I do my best, but sometimes I struggle with wanting to meet with patients. I struggle with wanting to make all of my phone calls. It’s hard to see how I can’t always help them, how sometimes the only suggestion I have is, “Mountainlands?” Their family members call me, and I try to brainstorm solutions with them. I try to encourage them when they’re down, be empathetic when crap happens, and try not to think about it, when it’s a little old lady who tells me how lonely she is. I can’t solve all of their problems. But it gets hard when they return and return to the hospital, or otherwise - I find them in my daily search of the Obituaries.

I struggle with feeling important, or like I’m a part of the work “team,” when people constantly have to be reminded about who I am, and, “What is it that Grace does, again?” It’s not all bad. Sometimes people seek me out, for my extensive community resource knowledge, or to ask me if patients who came in on a pink slip need to be blue slipped before being transferred to another hospital in between counties, because I try to stay up to date on that kind of thing. (I try. Apparently I was wrong, though, the other day…) But for the most part, when things like that happen, I feel fantastic.

Even notarizing something is a change to my usual day, and, when the legal wording is on the document, and my notarization stamp decides to work, it’s a good day. I enjoy it. Some nights I stay late, running one of my Living Well with Chronic Conditions groups, or staying after for a late staff meeting. Sometimes this is an awesome addition to my night, depending on everyone’s humors. Sometimes it just reminds me of how unappreciated I can often feel at work, or how hypocritical I can be – especially when I teach the lesson on “Communication” in my Chronic Conditions group.

After work I’ll run an errand, or just go home, and immediately put on more comfortable pants. These things are important, when you live in slacks. This is only disturbed by the occasional dinner date you make with neighbors or friends, when you’re trying to have a social life. Even then, after work, if Nathan is still home, three days of the week, I’m sending him off to night classes.

The other two days of the week I’m looking at him and debating if I should be cooking him food, or if I should just make up an excuse to call it “a night out.” Sometimes I feel like cooking. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I look in the fridge and the cupboards, and everything disgusts me. Sometimes it’s just that it will take more than 30 minutes to make, and we’re both so hungry that 30 minutes feels more like 5 hours. Especially if we have to do all the work to cook it. Especially if we have to wash the dishes first. Or if I have the contents of my backpack still laid all over the couch, and I can’t seem to bear the thought of cooking with that kind of reckless sloth taking over my life. So I just become more slothful, and we buy cheap corndogs at Sonic.

When I do cook, though, I feel like a hero. If there’s a vegetable on the plate, I feel like a freakin’ saint. I feel like I’m holy translation material. I feel like they should write a book about my life, I’m that awesome when I cook. And it tastes good, too. After that, I imagine how I’m going to cook every night for the rest of my life from then on, until Nathan is gone the next night, and I realize I’m not really that hungry. Then I fall out of the habit. The next day…

Or maybe the dishes were just still dirty from the day before.

I dream of being a writer. I heard back from the first publisher, the other day. They told me they were interested in my book. They just wanted a couple things changed, and they’d publish it. But I’m not sure I want to publish. I’m not sure I have the energy for it. I’m not sure I have the energy to have someone else telling me what I have to do before such and such a deadline – I already have ME for that!

So I don’t spend my evenings writing. I haven’t done that in awhile. I guess having a publishing offer wasn’t motivation enough. So I spend my evenings either cleaning or obsessing about my dirty house, chores I’ve set for myself, about car repairs, or how I’m so anti-social, or about pretty much anything. You name it, I stress about it. Sometimes, instead of stressing about something or cleaning something, I decide to watch a movie.

When Nathan is home, we usually sit around and talk. Sometimes we take funny videos of ourselves pulling faces. Sometimes we do the laundry. Sometimes I force him to watch a movie with me. Sometimes both. He whittles, and the wood chips cover the floor. I actually don’t mind that as much as I thought I would. To me, wood chips on the ground are a sign of creativity. We’re abstract. Our house is cluttered with different displays: Swords, a half, hand-painted dragon, two large, porcelain, green goats, a Peruvian painting of Christ, a statue of a white, vein-filled foot. 

On Friday nights either Nathan or I am planning a Sunday School lesson for the following Sunday, and every other Saturday night I’m picking up a graveyard shift, where, you guessed it, I think about writing but usually don’t.  I’m usually surfing the internet, reading articles I find interesting, browsing news articles, or watching a crime documentary on Netflix.

There’s not really a day of rest, and sometimes I get tired of praying for one, so I just don’t pray at all. Yes, I recognize this doesn’t help any, my silent-treatment of the heavens. But when you’re tired and feel like you’re not being heard, sometimes you let a little bit of sulking in. I enjoy my teaching calling in church, but sometimes wonder why church has to be so long – why we can’t all just escape after an hour to go back to our homes where we weren’t really doing much that was productive, anyway, other than cleaning, stressing, and dreading work the next day.

This isn’t made better by the fact that my stomach has been having this unusual, difficult, nauseating reaction to my Dr. Pepper, lately.

There’s a lot on my mind, of worries and stress. I worry about schooling, I worry about jobs. I worry about Utah Mormons, and feel like I need a change of scene. They’re irritating me. (They’re not all bad, but some days...) There’s only so much PTO in a year, only so much money for a vacation. Only so many programs for schooling, and, one could argue, too much family with too many houses, quite stable in Utah. Perhaps I’m being avoidant of a deeper issue. Maybe it’s just the birth control I resent so much. Maybe it’s just my lifetime goal of living in Nebraska that’s going unfulfilled.

Monday comes, and I’m back in the car, heading off to work once more. I woke up at the 7:15 time, this morning, so I’ve packed myself a lunch of leftovers from the night before – rice. That sounds terrible, but I’m actually quite excited. Rice, with shredded cheese, which I’ve slathered in enchilada sauce. There’s some pineapple for it, too, and I’m thinking that I’m pretty creative for this particular concoction, today. It’s like a Mexican Hawaiian Haystack.

It’s cloudy and stormy, weather I quite like, and the heater is turned on in my car, as I take my left hand turn and the hospital comes into view. So does the McDonalds.

The electronic sign out front of the fast-food restaurant is set for the morning crowd, advertising their delicious breakfasts. “Warm Up With An Egg,” it announces. The seconds tick on, as you wonder about this curious proposed relationship with a poultry byproduct. But then it all makes sense, when the screen changes.

“McMuffin.”

You don’t have the whole story, till it makes sense. You can’t judge one minute from the next. Who are we to say what we know, or don’t, yet, when all around us is change and uncertainty? What is our purpose, or what is the plan? Do we truly understand it all, or are we just waiting for the fog to clear? Sometimes what we think is doomed, is actually alright. And sometimes the things we are so certain of really don’t mean much at all.

But there are always Egg McMuffins. So in the end, it’s not that bad.

I Do Well to be Angry - Even Unto Death!

I'm afraid I'm going to get a little bit Biblical on you, here. My husband and I are Gospel Doctrine teachers for our ward. We take turns, every other week, teaching a lesson on the scriptures - this year, from the Bible - The Old Testament.

This Sunday I am teaching, and so this week I have been preparing a lesson on Jonah. I'm sure you all know that Jonah was swallowed by a fish, and that's neat and all, and then he went and served a mission to the people of the city of Nineveh, and that's neat and all too. But I've really been concentrating on the man Jonah - and what the HECK his big problem was, with all of this.

Jonah's father's name was, translated, "Truth". And I don't find that an accident. Jonah was a man who loved the truth. He loved God's justice, and he loved God's law. He loved the law so much, that he didn't know how to get along with people who weren't keeping the law, or loving God by keeping His commandments. He was a love-of-God-aholic. This man was so passionate about the law, that when God called him to be a missionary to sinners, he would rather run, because he didn't know how, or didn't like, that God would possibly accept those sinners. He couldn't comprehend forgiveness or wrap his mind around mercy, and in this blindness, he missed the most important message God has to offer all of us - LOVE.

Now, let's understand Jonah for a second. The people of Nineveh were EVIL. Nahum 3:1-4 teaches us a little bit about these people:

"Woe to the bloody city! It is all full of lies and robbery; the prey departeth not; The noise of a whip, and the noise of the rattling of the wheels, and of the pransing horses, and of the jumping chariots. The horseman lifteth up both the bright sword and the glittering spear: and there is a multitude of slain, and a great number of carcases: and there is none end of their corpses; they stumble upon their corpses: Because of the multitude of the whoredoms of the well favoured harlot, the mistress of witchcrafts, that selleth nations through her whoredoms and families through her witchcrafts..."

Are we seeing the picture of why Jonah doesn't want to go there?

 




These people are bloodthirsty people, full of prostitution, battle, endless artwork of killing lions, and MURDER. These people are terrible people.

In the end, though, Jonah goes and cries repentance, and the people, in a short time, are dressing in sackcloth and ashes, the king is declaring public fasts, including their livestock in on the fast, so even their cattle aren't allowed to eat, and all of this in the hope that God will forgive them for their many sins.

But Jonah? He still has a problem with this. It's not enough for Jonah, that these people have repented. He still can't understand how God would just forgive them like that, and so Jonah sits tight to watch, hoping that he can see God working some of His miraculous JUSTICE.

God, trying to teach Jonah a lesson about his attitude, blesses Jonah with a gourd - basically a plant that will grow vines enough to provide Jonah with some shade, while he sits on the hilltop hating Nineveh.

Then, because God is God, and He knows how to teach a good lesson - he kills the gourd.

The gourd dies, and the sun is hot, and Jonah is miserable - unto death. So God asks him: "Doest thou well to be angry for the gourd?" And, in juvenile angst, Jonah replies, "I do well to be angry - even unto death!"

But Jonah is missing the point, and God tries to teach him. See, the gourd represented the people of Nineveh. When God destroyed the gourd, he allowed Jonah to see what it would be like, if he had decided to destroy the people of Nineveh anyway. It would have been sad, and something miraculous and beautiful (like a human life) would have been destroyed. But Jonah has more sympathy for a dead squash plant than he would have for an entire city of people, who, pretty clearly, God explains are not accountable - are not aware of the sins they were committing. And God loved them.

So I wonder. What can we learn from Jonah? Are we ever so hateful of someone, that we would have more sympathy on a squash plant than we would have on their own souls, if they were to be destroyed by God?

So I was preparing my lesson, researching Nineveh, when I came across an interesting fact.

Nineveh is located in modern-day Iraq. Not just modern-day Iraq, but modern-day Mosul. Mosul is, aside from being home to many Muslims individuals, at present, is it also occupied by a host known as ISIS.

ISIS is a group that is terrible and bloodthirsty, calling themselves the Islamic State, they have driven Christians out of the city, and murdered more Christians. Children, innocent people, they have shot, beheaded, slit throats, raped, starved, stoned, and more. They are a force of terror and evil in this world.

Upon discovering this, I burst into tears, because suddenly, I felt I understood Jonah greater than I ever had in my life. I finally sympathized with him. I finally felt how he must have felt. Jonah had seen a great evil, and could not move past it. He valued squash more than the lives of these sinners.

Now, the rest of my blog post I am not focusing on ISIS. ISIS is a barbaric group, who know better. The tenants of their faith, and the innocents pleading for their lives have been warning enough for these people. But I am going to talk about Muslims in general.

For years, I have seen white Americans, Christians, and others, hold fast their hatred of the Muslim religion. (Muslims are hated even more than Mormons, in America, and that's saying something.) I have seen post after post on social media defaming and slandering Muslims and their faith, completely ignorant to the fact that A) Not all Muslims are terrorists, B) Not all Muslims are murderers, and C) Not all Muslims want to kill infidels. These are a minority, who interpret the Koran to fit with their political leanings and personal vendettas.

I have seen friends post bigoted articles spreading lies - that young virgin women are brought to their marriages handcuffed, in order to be raped - these articles taking photos from Islamic, symbolic cultural celebrations and spreading complete lies about what is actually happening. I have seen friends post articles boasting the number of murders Muslims commit, while good-natured Jews are off winning Nobel Peace Prizes, to contrast the two and paint the members of Islam as bloodthirsty terrorists. And these are articles from my friends - who I usually handpick for their values.

This makes me furious, because I love Muslims.

As a missionary for the LDS church, I had more doors slammed in my face, and more curse words sent my way from "Christians," than I ever had from Muslims - and I was serving in a plentiful Muslim community. The Muslims I knew were kind, they were respectful, they were generous. The Muslims I met were thrilled with the love that we had for our God, and were impressed at the sacrifices we were willing to make for Him. Did they want us to be Muslims? Well, yeah! Because they loved us! (If it's any consolation, we wanted them to be Mormons! So it was only fair.)

I remember Ahmed dearly. We met with Ahmed for weeks. He was a devout Muslim, who said his prayers, and believed his faith. I remember he wouldn't even shake our hands - I take that back. He shook our hands once, and prefaced it by saying that in his culture, it wasn't polite to touch a woman you weren't related to, but he respected us greatly, and so he shook our hands. I remember he would always walk us to our car, to make sure we were safe. When we came to visit, he would always have fruit juices for us, and chopped melon and cantaloupe. (He got offended when we were so excited to teach him that we forgot to eat the melon. Ah, I miss the cultural customs!) Ahmed was an amazing man, and I loved him dearly!

I remember we decided to stop teaching Ahmed, when, after several weeks, he was still being stubborn. (He wasn't really listening. He just wanted us to be Muslim. But I don't blame him. He thought it would bring us peace and happiness.) About a week after we saw him for the last time, we had a phone call from Ahmed late at night. Ahmed was upset - as one of the roommates in the house he was living in phoned the police on him, for waking up in the early hours of the morning to say his prayers. His roommate was a Christian, and, as Ahmed explained, was not being very "Christian" at all, in insulting his religion and his faith. Ahmed asked us to pray for him - to pray that he would have peace with his roommates, and that they would not discriminate against him anymore, and hate him.

I remember crying, that anyone could hate Ahmed for living his faith, ESPECIALLY someone claiming to be "Christian." Because his faith was different than theirs, they hated him. He was devout, and they hated him.

Now I want to go back to Jonah, and I dare say that many people in our society are Jonahs. You see evil being done by people claming to act for Islam, that you are so blinded by hatred that you fail to see that these same evils, (ISIS, etc), are committing evil against their own people. The news would tell you that ISIS only killed Christians, and yeah, those were their targets. But have you heard how they have forced toddlers (Muslim) to be recruited to their ranks? Have you heard how they have stoned citizens (Muslims) in the streets? Have you heard how, due to their violence, patients in the hospital (Muslims) are being sent home to die - because they can't get their cancer treatments? If you think for one second that all Muslims are bloodthirsty, that they are all evil, you fall under the sinful category of Jonah, who could see only the evil, that he failed to realize that there was beauty there, and that the vast MAJORITY was beautiful, in their ability to love and turn to God.

I've had to de-friend a couple people on social media now, but unfortunately, I can't de-friend the entire world. Because I love Muslims. And I will not hear "Christians" speak against the brothers that I love so much, out of complete ignorance and blind hatred. They have seen evil, as did Jonah, but they have felt more sorrow for the gourd than they do for their faithful Muslim brothers, upon whom they seek only destruction and justice.

But I know that God is just. God is merciful. And for the vast majority of Muslims, who oppose radical murderous groups just as much as you and I, God is understanding.

Don't hate. Look for truth, and you will find it.

50 Shades of... WHAT?!?

There’s been a whole lot of hype about the new 50 Shades of Grey movie coming out. As there should be! So many celebrities are talking about it! So many married women have already posted that they’ll be waiting in line on the day that movie comes out! It’s going to be fantastic! So much nakedness, whipping, baby oil, and downright SEX! Why would you NOT go?! The thing is going to be graphic!!!

Obviously I’m being sarcastic.

The best part is that this movie comes out on Valentine’s Day. I’m not going to lie, I’ve spent some time imagining who’s going to be standing in line. Are the women with husbands going alone? Or are they dragging along their husbands to give him a little show-and-tell lesson about how they would like to be sexually abused after getting the children fed, bathed, and clothed every night. “After the kiddos go down, Hubby, I want you to pull out the blindfold and rope and just have at me, babe.” Nothing says “hot” like forced, humiliating sex. (I’m sorry, but 80% of women are already complaining that their husbands want to have sex too often. Why the double standard, ladies?)

No, I don’t see solid married couples standing in line for this one together. Let’s be honest. In this line you’re going to have a bunch of women standing alone. The single women are desperate. The married women are too. But what are they desperate for, exactly?

And I’m sorry. There’s another category of people in line for the movie, before I go on. They’re men who are porn addicts, looking to get off on yet another woman suffering at the hands of a “powerful” man, who just loves him and could wish for nothing more than to have a belt lashed across her back prior to being raped. Most porn addicts can’t stand for the story lines, though. They want their aggressive sex quick and now, so they can get off and carry on their way. That’s why I think most of the people in line are going to be women. Because porn, for women, HAS to have a story line so she can enjoy it emotionally, too. (Women are such emotional creatures.) (And I feel no remorse for saying that condescendingly, because that’s what women want, right? To be treated like they are inferior to men?)

It confuses me that while women are pushing for this entertainment, which is as soul-warming as it is family-friendly, the same women are also pushing for women’s rights, and getting all worked up over a man shooting up people in California, targeting women, specifically. So women don’t think they should be shot, but they do think they should enjoy being manipulated into submissive/dominant sexual relationships? I’m sorry. Feminism? Are you dead? What happened to “We Can Do It”?

(You’re not getting away with tying that girl up, blindfolding her, and whipping her. Beg pardon. That’s feminism. It’s about love of women.)

So many double standards! So many conflicting messages! What do women want? (No wonder men are confused!!)

A look at popular entertainment, today, is going to show you the same story. You’ll have a song by Taylor Swift, bemoaning how men don’t care about how she feels, blah blah blah. Men aren’t sensitive. Men aren’t loving. But then you’ll get a song by Rihanna, outrageously popular, with lovely lyrics, like:

                “Now there’s gravel in our voices

                Glass is shattered from the fight

                In this tug of war you’ll always win

                Even when I’m right

                ‘Cause you feed me fables from your hand

                With violent words and empty threats

                And it’s sick that all these battles

                Are what keeps me satisfied

                Just gonna stand there and watch me burn

                But that’s all right because I like the way it hurts

                Just gonna stand there and hear me cry

                Well that’s all right because I love the way you lie.”

Now that’s a woman who knows how to stand up for herself and be respected… No. That’s a masochist woman who enjoys domestic violence, being manipulated, and emotional abuse. Did she even stay with Chris Brown? Anyway.

These are songs we listen to. Just yesterday I caught myself singing along to one of the only country songs I can stand, that I love, and realized what I was singing.

                “…Closes the door before the winter lets the cold in

                And wonders if her love is strong enough to make him stay,

                She’s answered by the tail lights shining through the window pane…

                He said I wanna see you again

                But I’m stuck in colder weather

                Maybe tomorrow will be better

                Can I call you then?

                …You’re a lover – I’m a runner

                And we go ‘round ‘n ‘round

                And I love you but I leave you

                I don’t want you but I need you…

                I ain’t ever gonna change

                I got a gypsy soul to blame

                And I was born for leavin’

                …But I know soon we’ll be together

                And I can’t wait ‘til then”

Another great example of a man who has no commitment issues whatsoever, and the adoring woman who apparently is willing to put up with that crap and take him back time and time again. And we call this a love song!

Do women want to be strung along? Do women want to beaten and abused? Or, in classic Jane Austen style, do women want to be pampered?

I think it comes down to being pursued. Women want to be irreplaceable. They want to be needed. This is basic psychology. Women will fill practically any hole they can, so that they can feel important and valuable to the men in their lives. So if you lose the traditional morals of a Jane Austen society, where women were desirable for being delicate, modest women, your women are going to start looking to be desirable in the way that society tells them they need to be today. Porn stars. (*Achoo!* Sorry! Did I jump on that one a little too fast?)

50 Shades of Grey is the tragic tale of a filthy rich Playboy who happens to have a history of sexual abuse himself. (I’ve not read the book, so don’t stone me if I’m wrong. I just read that in a review.) You have this tortured soul of a man who equates fulfillment and power for himself with the ability to abuse others – in this case a virgin woman. And she accepts that role. Why? Because she’s manipulated into believing that she’s needed. She’s pursued. He sends her gifts, he leads her on. He makes her feel important. There is obviously a power imbalance, which existed long before he even asked her to sign a contract stating that he would be the dominant one in the relationship. Our main character is a young girl with no experience in the world. He is a rich business man. She’s completely clueless. He seems to know everything, and is polite enough to allow her to have experiences with him, which will teach her. (There’s a lovely article which describes the relationship as one of a child sexual offender, and a child victim. And yeah. I like it! http://www.drjudithreisman.com/archives/2013/03/50_shades_of_gr.html.) As someone who interned with a facility which did forensic interviewing, or interviewing of children who had been sexually abused, the pattern IS clear. This storyline has grooming and abuse written all over it.

As a professional in the mental health arena, it’s concerning to me how willing women are to accept these deviant forms of intimacy. (It’s concerning anyone does, but let’s focus.) Women are willing to accept more and more pornographic displays of intimacy – whether self-imposed or other. These pornographic displays only feel normal to those with pornographic pasts, of addiction or abuse. These are not natural displays of intimate affection. I’m sorry, but Adam didn’t approach Eve in the garden and say, “Hey Baby. Is it okay if I whip you first?” (And she most certainly didn’t say “Yes.”) That’s animalistic. That’s freaking bed bug territory! (See http://www.lastwordonnothing.com/2012/07/27/tgipf-the-bed-bug-and-his-violent-penis/, or “Traumatic Insemination” on Wikipedia.) You would hope that homo sapiens were above that, what, with the need to maintain and sustain our family units, values, and all of that. (I hope…)

The fact that we have so many women who want to see 50 Shades of Gray only tells me how widespread sexual deviancy is, and how low our values have slid, in terms of honest, heartfelt expressions of love. If these movie-goers are not addicted to porn themselves, they’ve likely had relationships of abuse in the past, which have taught them that such violent displays are expressions of love. They’re physically and emotionally confused. They are sick.

Now, some may argue that I certainly make a lot of claims for someone who’s never read the book. And I must admit that it is true, I haven’t read it. But… I did watch the movie trailer. I embarrassedly admitted this to my husband, while asking him not to judge me. I watched it in a spirit of cold analysis – which, of course, included my own snarky comments. The trailer didn’t turn me on. It actually made me pretty pissed off.

My initial impression of the female character, Anastasia, was that she looked like she had a social phobia or disorder of some kind. Low self-esteem, for sure. As I wrote, “Patient presents with downcast eyes, holding herself in an anxious, intimidated manner.” Yes, to me she presented as a child.

Christian Grey, the main macho character, and abuser, is shown as being classically “intimidating.” Powerful frame, the picture is foggy, you see his fingers tapping the arm of his chair in a calculating manner. “But what about you?” he says to Anastasia, who is interviewing him. “I’d like to know more about you.”  

Well that’s women porn right there! That’s all women want to hear! You mean, you actually… care… about me? Yes, yes. He’s grooming you, dear. Pretty soon he’s going to start sending you expensive gifts. Back to the trailer.

This all feels very Twilight to me. (Did you know the author based 50 Shades of Grey off of Twilight? True story. http://hollywoodlife.com/2012/09/17/e-l-james-fifty-shades-of-grey-twilight/. So if you’re one of those Twilight fans who would NEVER watch a movie like 50 Shades of Grey, because of the inappropriate relationships portrayed therein, you still might have to question just what kind of relationships you’re considering to be “romantic,” in your PG-13 world. You might not be off the hook in terms of deviant arousal! Food for thought.)

But Grey, in true Edward Cullen form, warns Anastasia, “You should steer clear of me.” Yes, yes. This is Twilight. There’s even a scene of him moving her to safety. No, he didn’t block an oncoming truck with his bare hands, but yes. This is Twilight.

Scene: Woman waking up naked in bed alone. It struck me, actually, that Grey had made his side of the bed. Blankets pulled up, pillows placed perfectly. I think that would probably be the most seductive thing about the movie, for normal women. This man obviously has control issues, but think of the cleanliness which would ensue if you were in a relationship with an obsessive compulsive man…

Scene: At a dinner party with his family, obviously, and his hand is sliding her dress up her leg, under the table. What woman in her right mind wants to be felt up while in the process of meeting his family? No woman. Her posture is anxious and tight, and he’s selfishly grabbing at her while her mind is likely too busy, right now, trying to think of what to say, how to act, to impress these people. Trust me, she’s not interested right now, unless this happens to be a porn flick. Oh, wait…

And, carrying on, oh yes. We have nakedness and blindfolds and rope and belts. WHAT THE CRAP. If this were Twilight, we would have Edward Cullen taking bite-fulls of blood out of Bella’s body and spitting it back in her face.

At what point is a relationship about “control” abusive? At what point does an abusive relationship become unacceptable? Dare I say at the very beginning? Dare I say that she deserves respect? Even if she doesn’t think that she deserves it, or wants it?

The thing that finally nailed the lid on the coffin for me, in terms of labeling this film as pornography was actually at the end of the trailer. The credits roll on – to heavy breathing, just to remind you about SEX – and then? We see Grey’s back, and in letters over his head, the words, “Mr. Grey will see you now.”

Because that is JUST what our movie-going viewers want. They WANT Mr. Grey to see them now, and do a number on them, too. SERIOUSLY??? I’ve got PTSD! I’m ready for flaming balls of hail to strike Hollywood for its Sodom and Gomorrah comeback. I’m envisioning a Second Coming! PLEASE! Anything but women looking forward to sadist sex. Mr. Grey states, “I don’t do romance.” Well obviously not! Obviously not!

And for our poor women who actually think that they want to see this film, because for some reason they think that this is uplifting material, which is really going to inspire them in their love lives, I want to tell you what love really is. And you’re not going to see anything like this with a Grey character.

Love is sitting at home, thinking about how much you’d like to have a baby, like everybody else, and having your husband sit down next to you, to show you pictures of baby otters, just to mess with you. You jokingly growl at him, call him cruel, then the two of you sit back and enjoy a couple otter pops. (Yes Christian Grey. That’s as sadist as love gets.)

Love is learning to appreciate different interests and hobbies, and shopping at Hobby Lobby for wood-burning supplies and table centerpieces. Love is bringing home ice cream, and expecting nothing in return. Love is witnessed in meal planning, doing needed car repairs, and putting the toilet seat down. Love is playing together, in ripping torn jeans together, in snapping the bubbles of Bubble Wrap. Love is in dreaming, in planning your future, and the rest of your lives together. Love is seen in every selfless act, in gentleness, gratitude, and loving adoration.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.

It makes me extremely sad that so many have such a warped perspective of love. The justice is that these people will not find what they are looking for, in the end. In the end, 50 Shades of Grey isn’t going to do anybody any good. Heck, it has the potential to do a lot of bad. It might lead to divorces, sexual dysfunction, or at least sexual dissatisfaction, because loving husbands just aren’t going to compete with porn star Christian Grey.

We need to know what we’re looking for. As women, are we going to stand up for men to be abusive scumbags, or are we going to stand up for them to be our knights in shining armor, or at least, in my case, our knights in dirty scrubs? Do we want to be treated lovingly, or do we want to seek pleasure in being treated worse than second class citizens? Are we going to stand for perpetuating violence to ANYONE in romantic relationships, in the name of toleration for unconventional practices? Just because my cutting patients are consenting to taking box cutters to their wrists, doesn’t mean that it’s right. Women are killing themselves with eating disorders, on purpose, but it doesn’t mean that it’s right. Anastasia in 50 Shades of Grey is consenting to be beaten to submission in a masochistic fashion, but it doesn’t mean that it’s right. All that it means is that she’s been manipulated and taken advantage of, and is, as a result, emotionally, psychologically, and physically “sick.”

Don’t take this crap. Please. Women of the world. Don’t go on Valentine’s Day to promote a pornographic portrayal of an abusive relationship. How about you spend the evening with someone important to you, and celebrate, instead, the truth of what love is really all about.

Self-Discovery

Did I ever mention that I don’t deserve my husband?

I was having a crappy night, last night. I was feeling overworked, depressed, and I was feeling pretty prickly. Not to mention that I had just made a poor caloric choice, which left me feeling fat, despicable, and completely unrestrained. Needless to say, I was feeling like crap. When my husband came home from his night class, he took a seat next to me on the couch, where I proceeded to growl at him in a feral manner, crouching over the food which was my sin, in a protective manner. He grabbed himself something else to snack on, and proceeded to do some homework.

Once I had finished consuming my personal prize, and the TV episode I was watching was over, I decided I would rest my head down in Nathan’s lap, while he did homework. I justified this as “bonding” time, but really, I was just looking for someone to give me attention and pity me, though I had done nothing in particular to deserve it. Nathan proceeded to run a hand through my hair as he finished typing his assignment one-handed, and while I promptly passed out.

Over an hour later, Nathan gently woke me from my slumber on his lap, and helped to drag my semi-conscious form to bed, with all the patience of new, first-time parent. I remember talking to him, though I can’t remember what about. (I’m an exceptionallygood sleeper, something I’ve discovered even more, since being married.) I remember his laughing about it, but being kind, before I passed out again.

Since being married, I’ve learned some stuff about myself. Marriage has got to be the ultimate tool of self-discovery. I’d recommend it to anyone, but only if they are in a stable enough position in which they could cope with the emotional process that is self-discovery. It is a process. It is both lovely and horrifying, pleasant and painful, and ought to be entered into at your own risk.

Since being married I’ve discovered that I’m terribly selfish. (Note – I was defending my food from my own husband, in a self-pitying, animalistic display.) I’ve plotted ways of passively displaying unhappiness, so that he’ll jump to my rescue, without my ever having to have asked – so that I look strong, and don’t have to look like the needy, selfish, often angst-y woman that I am. I’ve discovered that I can, at times, be completely self-obsessed. I want to know why there are still dirty dishes in my sink, and I’m so upset that they’re still there that I fail to give sympathy to the fact that my husband has been sick all week, not to mention the fact that he’s not a mind-reader. I’ve come to realize that I whine, and I whine a lot. (I actually picked up on this on my mission, so missions are good for this too.) I whine about my back pain, and I whine about the hot weather, and my mild bouts of nonsensical anxiety, and my weight, and my zits, and my relationships, etc.

But the things I have learned have not all been bitter. There certainly is a portion of sweetness to my flawed character, which I have discovered as well. (And might I mention that it’s VITAL to see the good, as well as the bad?) I’ve discovered that I’m far more patient than I ever would have guessed. I CAN  accept that flaws and imperfections exist in others, and I can work through those things without feelings of discouragement or despair, but only hope and encouragement for the future. I have discovered that I can be self-sacrificing, as I forget annoyances or feelings of disappointment, to carry on with what mutually we’ve chosen is going to be done. I focus on the things that will make others happy. I give up my time, and (perhaps too much) berate myself on my weaknesses, always striving to be better. I am dedicated to causes, and fight for what’s right. Above all I seek the Lord, and choose to do what I feel God would have me do, despite any consequences that may arise.

Am I perfect? Far from it. Am I flawed? Far, too. I am just me, and you are just you. (I felt a little Dr. Seuss there, and chose not to delete it. I’m letting my freak flag fly.)

Self-discovery is hard. Some days it leaves me feeling like the scum of all the earth, as I eat the entire box of Little Caesar’s Italian Cheese Bread by myself, while loathing myself over my hateful, selfish tantrums. Some days you feel like Jesus has been following you around the whole day, patting you on the back, while you smile and continue with a 100% motivation level. Some days are a little Bipolar, and you flip back and forth within every matter of hours.

Would I change it? Absolutely not. Do I hope that I learn something from it? I certainly hope I do! And I hope that, at least most of the time, I’m heading in the direction I want to be headed. Each day I should remind myself that it’s one day at a time, and that if you “mess up” today, there’s probably a reason for it, and a lesson to be learned. You’ll learn that lesson, and tomorrow will be even better than your today could have been, if the lesson hadn’t been there.

Mormon Dating and the Woes of Being a "Y"SA Woman

My husband and I talk a lot. (I know. It’s weird. We’re married, and we’re still talking.) Sometimes we’re talking about the latest things we can do for fun, like buying a porcelain phrenology head, or how many trees are acceptable to have in a backyard, but usually we’re trying to solve the world’s problems single-handedly. Alright, let’s be honest. I’m the one with the God Complex. I’M trying to save the world, and he expresses his opinions on matters, recognizing that the entire human race is not his responsibility. I’m not quite convinced that I don’t carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, yet, but that’s another problem for another day and another therapist.

Yesterday we were talking about dating, and the struggles that single people have in dating, and especially Mormon dating, because that’s what we have experience with. (We’re so happy we’re not there anymore!) I have several amazing friends, female, who have never been asked on dates, never had a boyfriend, etc. These are return missionary type women, all strong, active women. They have brains and intelligence, good jobs, and HUMILITY. They are wonderful women.

Heck! Now, I may be vain and proud, but I considered myself as one of those women for many years. I was completely active in the church, intelligent, a future in mind, and couldn’t get a single man to ask me out, at times, for up to 516 days at a time. (Not that I was bitterly counting or anything. Yes, I probably wasn’t at a good point in my life to get married anyway, but this isn’t the point.) The ones that did ask me out I found were either A) good people, but we didn’t have enough in common to make it work – and yes, I went on several dates before making that informed decision, and was very generous and kind about my refusal to make it time and all eternity, or B) were really just interested in touching my butt and grabbing at me. Now, the fact that I turned some men down may make me sound like a jerk, or a terrible person for "friend-zoning" a couple guys. Though I have always been a stubborn person, I do think that I was pretty nice, if intimidating, but never willing to settle for less than my ultimate happiness. (Which I have now found. It’s worth waiting for the right one!)  

Now, there are so many young Mormon women who get married at 18, 19, or 20, who make it look like the whole dating scene in Mormonism is a piece of cake. But I would ask you to turn to any of those women who are passing 24, 25, 28, 29, 30, who are still single, and ask them how they feel about dating. The story you are going to hear is completely different.

These women’s stories are full of disappointment and let-downs. Now, let’s be honest, men’s dating lives can be just as disappointing and sorrowful as the next old maid’s, but let me give you a few thoughts to chew on.

Men ask women on dates. So many women, who hold those traditional views and values – that it’s the men’s role and responsibility to take this initiative, thereby portraying their ability to be presiders of a home and household – just have to, well, WAIT. I was one of those women. I’m loud and obnoxious when I want to be, and I refused, for the most part, to ask men on dates, because I wanted to know for sure that he had the confidence and the hutzpah to compete with me. Heaven forbid. I’m strong and I’m stubborn, and I wanted to make sure I would be equally yoked with a man who wasn’t paralyzed by crippling fear when it came to approaching me. I was kind, I was nice, I was funny, and I tried to be approachable, and that’s what I did to help. But ultimately, because I’m traditional, it was his job to take that first step in asking. In doing so, I could respect him. And for me, that respect was vital.

So I want you to step in the shoes of the woman who waits, day after day, for that guy to acknowledge her as more than just a fun FHE sister, for the cute kid you talk to every day in Biology to invite you for lunch after class, or for that kid at church who just keeps making eyes at you to DO SOMETHING about it! I want you to be the girl at home, who never gets asked on dates because she doesn’t fit the cheerleader mold, sit and watch as younger roommate after younger roommate goes out on a Friday night, breaks up with him the following Friday night, and still gets married the next spring. You begin to feel flawed. You begin to feel useless. You wonder what they have that you don’t, when truly, you are beautiful and wonderful, generous and kind. But you still wonder if you are so completely undesirable and horrible that you will spend the rest of forever alone.

Trust me. The girls have been there. And I understand that many boys have too, but for men, the game is only over when they say it is. Men can keep asking, keep trying, keep dating. But for the woman who sees only her reflection in the mirror on a consistent, reliable basis, you don’t have much evidence for hope. There are ladies who live old and alone, and then there are bachelor pads. But, for the most part, only one of them made a choice to live that way, and I think you know who it is.

So why do I think that the Mormon boys, in particular, have a harder time with dating? A wise co-worker of mine expressed a few main bullet points, which I would love to elaborate on. (And yes, she’s in her upper twenties and still not married, though she is dating someone.)

As she put it: “There’s less reward or gain in dating, for Mormon boys. All they get is chatting.” She’s talking about sex, here. (Oh my gosh, I said the word “sex” on my blog! I am so sorry!) Sex. 

Outside of the church, men have more initiative to wine and dine a girl in a non-marriage-committal relationship, because she’s more likely to give him something that he wants, in return. He’ll buy her flowers, take her out for a fancy dinner, walks in the moonlight, etc. Mormon boys just don’t seem to try that hard, because all they’ll get on a lucky night, dating a beautiful, good Mormon girl, is good conversation. That’s just not a lot of motivation to try!

I’ll never forget the date I got asked on where the boy came to pick me up. Yes, he came to the door, but then he showed me to the passenger-side seat, which was covered in dirty dishes, fast-food restaurant wrappers, and I didn’t even want to look further! He then proceeded to take me to his apartment, where he put a few burritos in a microwave, and wanted to play guitar hero with me. I’m sorry, but that’s not trying very hard at all. It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t spend money. It was the fact that he didn’t even try to portray himself as a desirable person, and I felt that he didn’t really value me! And I’ve seen it all over, in other boys dating other girls. It’s the guys who are oblivious to the needs and wants of the girl that they’re with. It’s the guy who wants to watch Transformers with her and his roommates, when the girl is obviously more interested in some one-on-one time with him, doing something SHE likes, too. But why should he try harder? It’s not like he’s going to get laid.

You don’t have to impress a woman with money. Let’s be honest, I went to the dollar theater once with a fabulous guy to watch Thor, and it was a fantastic date! Not fancy, and yet it was something we mutually felt was fun, and he was ATTENTIVE. He TRIED. He put forth EFFORT in seeing to my happiness and comfort. I felt very appreciated and worthwhile, and in return, it was easy to reciprocate.So no, men don’t have to literally “wine and dine,” but they do have to listen and be considerate. And due to more “substantial” motivation for dating outside of the church, Mormon men just have less motivation to put forth that extra effort, attention, listening, and consideration. Because it does require work. So why bother trying so hard, in order to have a conversation, when you can just spend the night at home and enjoy yourself with a nice full plate of taquitos, and talk to your roommates about whatever you want?

Commitment. Co-worker: “In our culture, dating has commitment tied to it. In other cultures, that’s much less so.” Basically, if you’re a Mormon and you’re dating someone, you’re looking at MARRIAGE. You’ve been raised from Primary through Young Mens, through your Mission and on, constantly being told that the whole plan of your entire mortal existence is for you to get married and have a family. PRESSURE. I mean, do you really want to think about a gamble for eternity on a Friday night after you’ve just spent 8 hours on the phones all day at work? No thank you.

I’m not saying that having that attitude in regards to first dates, or even fifth dates, is right. I think you should be able to have fun on a date with someone of the opposite gender without having to think about wedding plans and their potential parenting skills all the time! But in our culture, this is what we’ve been raised to value, and think about. And for a Mormon guy, that may just be too much drama to have to deal with, in order to ask that girl out for ONE DATE, just for fun.

Additionally, we, as Mormons, have grown up in a culture where “mingling” amongst men and women is SO EASY to do! Ward prayers, FHE activities, semesterly activities where your bishop plans an event to shove you all together, and prays that one date might come out of the whole event/dinner/dance. The activities are designed to force you to meet people of the opposite gender. But what really happens is that the mingling continues. The “hanging out” continues. You just keep mingling in large groups. You plan movie nights at your apartment, where there’s no pairing off, no commitment required, and you don’t have to be vulnerable in any way, shape, or form. You don’t have to date to get that female attention, validation, or proximity that you so desire.

So why are our women willing to take this? Why do good Mormon women allow Mormon men to be such sucky daters in general? Why does a Mormon woman accept a texting date request, the Guitar Hero/burrito date, and/or the cocky, big-headed jerk dater at all?

Because she never gets the chance to be asked out, and anything is better than nothing. The women who don’t prescribe to that notion are the ones who struggle the most with dating. They won’t take men’s flack, so they don’t get asked out at all!

I want you to look at some ratios with me. There are more women than men. That’s a statistical fact. I was one of those girls who dreamed of moving to the United Arab Emirates, where only 30% of the population is female, because the US and most other first world countries have more women than men. There are also more women in the church than there are men, and there are more WORTHY women in the church than worthy men. (We just keep losing men out of the dating pool, here!) And I want you to look at the fact that there are now more women in our colleges, more women EVERYWHERE. Men are a minority.

Men just don’t feel the pressure to pursue, because there are so many options to pick from. They don’t even have to work hard to find a woman who will be interested in them. The women are desperate!

Perhaps this issue is a little too close to home for me to talk about without bias, because I was there for so many years, hating men for sitting around twiddling their thumbs, not dating anyone at all, or choosing the girls who WOULD break their hearts, like they didn’t know any better, whilst rejecting me through their inaction. Maybe I am a little too biased because I have so many girlfriends who have been there too, being led on by guys who expressed interest, but never asked them or anyone else out, because they got enough attention through their “game night” events. Maybe I’m too biased because I know such fabulous women who have never had a real dating experience at all, with a real man who was willing to love her for who she was, and care for her for who she was, when I could do nothing but love and care for them, for their hearts, their lives, their integrity, and for the amazing people that they are. I have wondered how no earth no one could see that!

I’ve only been able to conclude, through my years of observation in my own life, of the lives of my friends, and the women I hear about and talk to in single's wards I've been in, that it's because Mormon boys suck at dating. I could go into the theories my husband and I have on which Mormon boys make the suckiest daters, versus the Mormon boys who actually make great daters, but I'd hate to make any of those sucky daters feel bad. Poor sucky daters. Poor indecisive, non-committal, "victim", sucky daters. 

Yeah, no. I feel bad for the good single Mormon gals.

#YesAllWomen - For Men

This last weekend my husband and I decided to go camping. We spent the night by our campfire, then the next morning decided to go fishing.

I was looking pretty average. I was wearing a tomboy military cap to cover my messy tangled hair, a pair of oversized Wal-Mart moccasins, a hospital t-shirt, and had doused myself in approximately a cup and a half of insect repellent. As my husband put it, I looked and smelled like camping.

My husband was down by the water, watching his fishing pole, while I was putting another worm on my hook, when the truck went past. Two men wearing sunglasses drove by, leering at me, as one of them whistled in my direction.

Quite taken aback, I turned to my husband in shock. “Did you see that?” I asked. “What?” “Those guys just whistled at me.”

Of course, my husband loves me. I can’t remember his reply, but it was something along the lines of winking at me in an, “I totally agree with them,” way.

I wasn’t really sure how to take it. Yes, I could have been quite flattered that I had far from tried, yet had gained unsolicited attention from a couple biker-types driving past, in all my sweatpant-ed glory. I could have been flattered that I was seen as desirable, in the least! I felt, and probably looked, like a homeless vagrant that hadn’t showered in years. And yet I had earned a whistle of approval.

But the more I thought about it, the truth was, I was just really pissed off. I was pissed off that I could be OBVIOUSLY not interested, fishing with my HUSBAND, and still be treated like I was some token prize or item to admire. They knew nothing about me, nothing of who I was, and yet they felt they had the right to pass a judgment on me. My body, no less, because it was obvious that’s what they were judging.

What pissed me off more was the fact that there had been two of them. They were in mutual agreement that that was how they could treat me. They could treat me as a fine butt and a chest, and as friends, this was an activity for them to participate in, while driving past.

Now, forgive me, because I’m going to get heated.

Why the freak would anyone think that was okay?! Now, I know there’s all this #NotAllMen business going on, but if some dude gets away with this crap in front of their other guy friends, then we have a failure in society at large, with men not taking responsibility for valuing and respecting women. Just because you’re not the one with the disrespecting attitude, doesn’t mean that you’re not allowing it to continue, by not standing up against it.

If you’re hanging out with your guy friends, and one of them cracks a joke at a woman’s expense, either sexual or derogatory in some other nature, if you are a woman-loving man, you will stand up for her. You don’t have to know her personally. You don't even have to know if she even has a name. Because she does. All women have names, all women have stories, and if you allow one of your buddies to ridicule and make mockery of a woman, like a thing to be itemized and categorized, or used for their own personal entertainment and/or self-esteem,  you're no better than they are. A man takes his calling as a protector and defender of virtue, women, and families seriously. (And yes, you are meant to be our protectors, or did you forget? It is a responsibility and gift given to you by God.) You should be attacking any assault on those traditional values like a fat kid on cake, the men of Dunharrow on an Oliphant, or like goats on a tree.

Am I saying the women are innocent? No, not all of them are. Some women are just as good at male-bashing as men are about women. Trust me, it's true. We can rate on a scale of 1-10 just as well as the next man can. Does it mean we can or should act possessive or lusty about it? Absolutely not. 

Equally, and I may get stoned for saying it, women may start the ill behavior towards them by the way that they view themselves. I'm sorry, but no porn star has the right to get upset when men don't respect her. She doesn't respect herself, and yes, heaven forgive me for saying it, she's asking for it. Similarly, girls who "dress to impress" are merely objectifying themselves, drawing attention to legs or cleavage. They're asking for attention in those areas, by highlighting those qualities themselves. But what does it mean for men, knowing that women aren't all innocent?

It shouldn't make a difference at all! Because in the long run, it's not about her at all. It's about you, and who you are, and how you're willing to think and talk about other people. You're responsible for your own actions. And if you're allowing those actions, behaviors and insults to continue in the lives of those who you mutually respect and appreciate, there is equally something wrong with you. 

One of my favorite quotes of all times, and don't ask me where I heard it, is: "Society will sink as low as the women allow it to." Unfortunately for women such as myself, the team of women that we're on, due to our natural biolgoy, tends to be, frankly, SUCKING at upholding values, at this moment. If it were up to me, it wouldn't be this way. But unfortunately, it's Miley Cyrus on the music videos, models on the runway, and celebrities' daughters running bare-chested around the city, trying to make a statement. So no matter how loudly I scream out "integrity!" and "morals!", those women are going to keep letting in slack on the line of our sinking society. The whistling, leering, AND WORSE, continues, because some women encourage it. 

That's why it's up to our men. You have no idea how important you are. So long as you keep accepting the "status quo" however, keep allowing poor behaviors of the past to carry on into our future, you are a part of the problem. So it's time to take a stand. Men who bash, who use and abuse women, who slander their names, their characters or their worth, ought to be very much alone in what they do. The men who think only of themselves, of their own pleasures and desires should feel like the outcasts. 

It's time for men to be bold about their loyalties. It's time for them to unashamedly state what is right and what is wrong. It is time for them to refuse any hint of male dominion and feminine slander. It's time to view women not as your extreme opposite, either enemy or pleasurable reward, but rather as your equals, your mothers, your sisters, your daughters, your wives. It is time to rethink what love really means, especially in a world of darkness and clouded judgement. 

Stop being a part of the problem. Stop accepting things as they way they are, and instead demand we try harder, look a little further, and step a little more confidently on the paths that lead to God, to strength, and to family. Encourage your friends, whether men or women, to respect and love a little more, and look for the good, not the bad. 

I am more than my body. I am more than any combination of my good days or bad. I am more than my weaknesses, my strengths, my family or career. I am more than my car, my house, my city, or country. I am more than your opinions of myself, or even my own. I am worth even more than my life. 

I am a child of God. So are you. We deserve to be treated as such - no more, no less. 

I think that's fair.