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.
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