In the midst of our conversation at lunch with our new found admirers, I was distracted by a man sticking a paper in my face. Imagine turning away from a conversation only to be met with a 45 year old version of Ducky from Sixteen Candles. The sincere little man was promoting his project and the paper was an advertisement for his singles website that he had created as a clearinghouse for all of the singles activities throughout the country and articles and all things relevant to being single. He really just wanted to talk to me. Once again Leslie, keep a good attitude. I visited with him for a minute and shooed him away in an appropriately direct and respectful manner.
My dismissal of Ducky was evidently not too harsh because he came back within a few minutes toting his lunch tray and asking-- as he sat down-- if he could join us for lunch. I believe this was between Steve's suicide question and his kissing commentary. Following the dwarf daughter story, Ducky chimed in with some very wise insight. He discussed the importance in blended families of the adult couple becoming as one and the children fall in line behind. He has two children that are young adults and he so badly wants to find a wife. A righteous desire for a man that probably will cherish his partner-- not sure what happend with round one but this is a life of redemption, right?
The conversation slid into minutia and eventually resurfaced with a discussion about what we three girls found attractive in a man. We each threw out a few things that had been discussed on the way down-- The Ride Down is it's own blog post-- and if I didn't see Ducky taking intense personal notes, I don't know what I saw! He was clarifying and asking specific questions about what we found attractive. I'm not sure what is subjective about a man having a sense of humor but Ducky was determined to clarify!
Later that evening as we left the dance looking ahead to the singles cruise, Ducky ran after us to reconnect. We exchanged pleasantries and bid him a good night only to have him run after us. He grabbed Laurel and repeated the qualities we had mentioned earlier about "What makes a man hot". He then said in total sincerity, "So, if I am....., than I am hot?". We gave an endearing laugh and told him, "Yes, Ducky, you are hot."
Ducky's sincerity and commitment to figuring this singles thing out endeared me. He certainly didn't come in the package that I find attractive or "HOT", but I was touch by the reality that not only he, but Steve, and even the woman with the dwarf daughter are all in the same boat as I am. We look different and we have different struggles and strengths but we all are striving for the same source of fulfillment and happiness.
My own insecurities and criticisms started to morph into an increased feeling of compassion. By "giving up", perhaps we can simply give more? My insecurities that lead me to feel like I have no power because I have to be nice when someone approaches me that I am reproached by is being replaced by a personal empowerment to not only see these other "misfits on the island of the misfit toys" as they really are but to help support them just like I need to be supported and encouraged without the fear that they might get the wrong impression.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Dwarf Daughter
Day 1: After arriving in Las Vegas friday evening, we made our Las Vegas Singles Conference debut fresh faced and rested bright and early Saturday morning. The day began in the main gym at Basic High School where David Osmond was the keynote speaker. It had all of the markings of a "God loves you how you are, we all go through trials, keep the faith, I am so glad I'm not single like you, let me sing you a song and if you like it please purchase my CD" talk.
Throughout his message Laurel was being eyeballed by a man probably twenty years older than her but looked old enough to be her father... "Just as I had expected", I thought to myself, "How many wierdos will we encounter today?" I didn't want to make eye contact with anyone in fear that a wrong message may be communicated to one of the many perpetrators in attendance.
We then moved on to our first workshop with Greg Olsen. As the room filled up beyond capacity I felt myself growing increasingly irritated and even mad. I had maintained a generally good and positive attitude about this experience to this point and really had no expectation. I really didn't have an expectation of the "prospects" I might find and found myself looking for justification for having no expectation by observing the experience through a very critical lense. Can one truly attend fat camp with no expectation? Of course not, otherwise you wouldn't go to fat camp! I wanted to feel some ounce of hope. Hope that there might be some semblance of a person that I might feel a connection with, hope that I won't be relegated to second class citizen status for all of eternity, hope that perhaps my prayers had not fallen on deaf ears. I concluded before this workshop ended that I give up. Really, this time. Being a second class citizen isnt my first choice but it does have its perks and at least I can feel comfortable in my skin.
By lunchtime my feelings had numbed and I really felt appreciation for the many individuals who had put so much time and effort to pull of such a large undertaking. The conference was well run and I appreciate that. Walking into the lunch room to eat lunch with hundreds of other people was reminiscent of the first day of junior high. The school lunch smell filled the air- you know, that smell that every generation of public school children have experienced since the dawn of time, that smell that is accompanied by gravy with a thick film on it, burger suprise, pizza made with government cheese, and the same anticipation and anxiety about where you will sit and whether these strange people will be nice to you?
We were in line behind a man that we later learned was named Steve. He struck up a conversation with Laurel just about the time we were pouring salad dressing on our lettuce and leaving the lunch line. Sure enough, after extracting himself from a group of frothy women, he invited himself to sit by the three of us at the table. One of the first things out of his mouth after he learned we were from Utah was how badly Utah sucked followed up by a question about the suicide rate in our state. Lesson 1: never start a conversaton with someone you don't know by asking about the suicide rate in their state. Steve was from Pasadena, a painter by profession, and a diehard surfer, which was consistent with the laid back ease with which he carried himself. He had slightly shaggy blonde hair, heighth, and was relatively trim and at one point in the conversation when he was talking about himself he did let us all know that all the work he had to do to himself was teeth bleeching. Not a bad bio... for a seventeen year old. Only upon learning that Steve was 48 did the excitement begin...
Steve invited his friend, Greg, to sit with us. Greg was an accountant and also from Pasadena. He couldn't have had a more different M.O. than Steve. Very conservative appearance, hair was well trimmed, he was extremely composed, and had a slight salt and pepper maturity to him. A good wing man, Steve was very covert in not disclosing Greg's age by telling us even he didn't know his age. He needs to work on that approach because after learning these two had been friends for more than twenty years he knows how old his friend is!
A great conversation ensued and the three of us had great practice holding our cards tight to the vest, Lesson 2: Filter. These guys were more than intrigued by us and what made us tick and the more we held tight the more questions they asked. Steve entertained us by his awkward commentary about perfecting his kissing technique and how well he is at holding a kiss and taking a breath without breaking the seal. Only later at the dance that evening did he continue his efforts by telling us how skilled he is at hugging for thirty minutes straight!
Steve illustrated lesson 2 very well by a story he told us about a woman he dated. He prefaced his commentary by expressing his frustration with all of the women who throw themselves at him thinking he wants to be an instant father to their three children. He went on to describe a woman he dated who told him that she couldn't seem to keep guys around; they leave after they meet her dwarf daughter.
Throughout his message Laurel was being eyeballed by a man probably twenty years older than her but looked old enough to be her father... "Just as I had expected", I thought to myself, "How many wierdos will we encounter today?" I didn't want to make eye contact with anyone in fear that a wrong message may be communicated to one of the many perpetrators in attendance.
We then moved on to our first workshop with Greg Olsen. As the room filled up beyond capacity I felt myself growing increasingly irritated and even mad. I had maintained a generally good and positive attitude about this experience to this point and really had no expectation. I really didn't have an expectation of the "prospects" I might find and found myself looking for justification for having no expectation by observing the experience through a very critical lense. Can one truly attend fat camp with no expectation? Of course not, otherwise you wouldn't go to fat camp! I wanted to feel some ounce of hope. Hope that there might be some semblance of a person that I might feel a connection with, hope that I won't be relegated to second class citizen status for all of eternity, hope that perhaps my prayers had not fallen on deaf ears. I concluded before this workshop ended that I give up. Really, this time. Being a second class citizen isnt my first choice but it does have its perks and at least I can feel comfortable in my skin.
By lunchtime my feelings had numbed and I really felt appreciation for the many individuals who had put so much time and effort to pull of such a large undertaking. The conference was well run and I appreciate that. Walking into the lunch room to eat lunch with hundreds of other people was reminiscent of the first day of junior high. The school lunch smell filled the air- you know, that smell that every generation of public school children have experienced since the dawn of time, that smell that is accompanied by gravy with a thick film on it, burger suprise, pizza made with government cheese, and the same anticipation and anxiety about where you will sit and whether these strange people will be nice to you?
We were in line behind a man that we later learned was named Steve. He struck up a conversation with Laurel just about the time we were pouring salad dressing on our lettuce and leaving the lunch line. Sure enough, after extracting himself from a group of frothy women, he invited himself to sit by the three of us at the table. One of the first things out of his mouth after he learned we were from Utah was how badly Utah sucked followed up by a question about the suicide rate in our state. Lesson 1: never start a conversaton with someone you don't know by asking about the suicide rate in their state. Steve was from Pasadena, a painter by profession, and a diehard surfer, which was consistent with the laid back ease with which he carried himself. He had slightly shaggy blonde hair, heighth, and was relatively trim and at one point in the conversation when he was talking about himself he did let us all know that all the work he had to do to himself was teeth bleeching. Not a bad bio... for a seventeen year old. Only upon learning that Steve was 48 did the excitement begin...
Steve invited his friend, Greg, to sit with us. Greg was an accountant and also from Pasadena. He couldn't have had a more different M.O. than Steve. Very conservative appearance, hair was well trimmed, he was extremely composed, and had a slight salt and pepper maturity to him. A good wing man, Steve was very covert in not disclosing Greg's age by telling us even he didn't know his age. He needs to work on that approach because after learning these two had been friends for more than twenty years he knows how old his friend is!
A great conversation ensued and the three of us had great practice holding our cards tight to the vest, Lesson 2: Filter. These guys were more than intrigued by us and what made us tick and the more we held tight the more questions they asked. Steve entertained us by his awkward commentary about perfecting his kissing technique and how well he is at holding a kiss and taking a breath without breaking the seal. Only later at the dance that evening did he continue his efforts by telling us how skilled he is at hugging for thirty minutes straight!
Steve illustrated lesson 2 very well by a story he told us about a woman he dated. He prefaced his commentary by expressing his frustration with all of the women who throw themselves at him thinking he wants to be an instant father to their three children. He went on to describe a woman he dated who told him that she couldn't seem to keep guys around; they leave after they meet her dwarf daughter.
The other side of Fat Camp...
We made it! We have been back on dry land for over a week now so, with perspective, we will make some notes of our experience. Laurel and Camille should chime in with their posts but I will make note of some things to get us started.
First of all, let me state publicly that I was indeed changed in some way as a result of my experience at fat camp. The only objective for myself was to go with a good attitude knowing there would be plenty of things to gripe about. With that as my objective, Mission Accomplished!
We met some wonderful people that probably live daily in some sort of fat camp, interesting and odd people too, and I gained some insight into myself that I knew was there somewhere but until I was willing to put my insecurities and pride to the side I couldn't have that insight.
The posts that follow contain brief encounters and experiences and lessons that illustrate the journey through The Best Year...
First of all, let me state publicly that I was indeed changed in some way as a result of my experience at fat camp. The only objective for myself was to go with a good attitude knowing there would be plenty of things to gripe about. With that as my objective, Mission Accomplished!
We met some wonderful people that probably live daily in some sort of fat camp, interesting and odd people too, and I gained some insight into myself that I knew was there somewhere but until I was willing to put my insecurities and pride to the side I couldn't have that insight.
The posts that follow contain brief encounters and experiences and lessons that illustrate the journey through The Best Year...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Summer camp for fat kids...
We leave next week for a multi-objective singles blitz. It first started a few years ago when Laurel suggested we go on a singles cruise, "or something like it". I very directly avoided the issue and soon enough the topic was lost in the shuffle of life.
This is a new year and a new outlook so when Laurel and Camille suggested the cruise again, only this time with details, I gave in. Seeing I was outnumbered and more sympathetic to the need to "do something different" I agreed to go with them. Mind you, I have said NOTHING about this being a singles cruise to my family and other friends- perhaps that says something about my subconscious- no, that DEFINITELY says something about my subconscious.
In the meantime we discovered that a singles conference was being held in Las Vegas the same weekend that we would be passing through on our way to San Diego... Yes, we will be participating in the "activities" planned for us. I feel like I am about to go on my first experience at Fat Camp with special programs for the kids that don't know how to control their eating like the rest of mainstream America.
May the force be with all of us. I am mentally preparing for more singles activities, pressures, and realities than I think my emotional self can handle. I may come out on the other side a different person... who may need a good therapist... or a strong drink.
This is a new year and a new outlook so when Laurel and Camille suggested the cruise again, only this time with details, I gave in. Seeing I was outnumbered and more sympathetic to the need to "do something different" I agreed to go with them. Mind you, I have said NOTHING about this being a singles cruise to my family and other friends- perhaps that says something about my subconscious- no, that DEFINITELY says something about my subconscious.
In the meantime we discovered that a singles conference was being held in Las Vegas the same weekend that we would be passing through on our way to San Diego... Yes, we will be participating in the "activities" planned for us. I feel like I am about to go on my first experience at Fat Camp with special programs for the kids that don't know how to control their eating like the rest of mainstream America.
May the force be with all of us. I am mentally preparing for more singles activities, pressures, and realities than I think my emotional self can handle. I may come out on the other side a different person... who may need a good therapist... or a strong drink.
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