The General Rules

No this is not about the online auto insurance company. (Although don't get me started. Those commercials make me want to poke my eyes out with a stick.) This is not a declaration about how the military rules! This is about another type of battle organization. These are the General Rules. Love. Yes, I'm talking about love.

Some of you may remember my poll from awhile back about starting a separate blog about love. Due to the mixed reaction, I decided not to do it. Plus, two blogs is a bit much. So I'm starting a new segment called, you guessed it, The General Rules. But before I get into the meat of this new segment I'm going to lay down a few ground rules for the General Rules:

1. They are the "General" rules. This means that there are exceptions. There are always exceptions. Everyone knows someone who had a fairytale courtship, engagement, and subsequent marriage. This is an exception to the rule. For most of us, dating is more akin to a fight to the death in gladiatorial ring than a delicate dance in  a palace. For most of us, getting engaged and married will require a herculean effort. For most of us, this whole "love process" involves more slogging through the mud than walking on clouds. That is why I titled the new segment the general rules rather than "The rules that are always true no matter what."

2. I am not an expert. Don't quote me on anything. In fact, most of you will be better off not reading any of these segments.

3. I cannot be held personally responsible for any actions you may take after reading my reflections and ruminations on the subject.

4. I am always right. Comments are welcome on these posts, but just know that any comments that disagree with my opinion will be subsequently laughed at and ignored.

Thank you for your consideration. And I hope you are looking forward to the forthcoming mindless blather about the most complex subject on earth as much as I am.

[Keep following. Actually don't. You may not like what you find.]

/the Vulnerable man.

So the idea for this post came from an Alanis Morissette song. Don't judge me.

This Erastus Snow quote helped things along: “If good and evil is placed before us, does not the person who chooses the good and refuses the evil exhibit his agency and manhood as much as the man who chooses the evil and refuses the good? or is the independence of manhood all on the side of the evil-doer? I leave you to answer this question in your own mind. To me, I think the angels and saints and all good people have exercised their agency by choosing the good and refusing the evil; and in doing so they not only exhibit their independence and manhood as much, but show a much higher and greater nobility of character and disposition; and I leave the future to determine who are wise in the choice of their freedom and independence."

I'd like to relate what Erastus said to what makes a man manly when dealing with love. Mr. Snow points out the twisted lie that the devil uses to convince us that any command that God gives us is a limitation upon our agency and somehow restrictive. Satan would have us believe that only when we are rebelling are we truly using our agency. When in fact, the opposite is true. Wrong choices bind us and jail us to the consequences of addiction and pain. Good choices allow us to be continually happy and free from bad consequences. But what does this have to do with being a man?

I want to respond to a cultural current that suggests that all men have to be "tough" and insensitive to be considered "manly" in matters of the heart. Let us think of some of the standard attributes that all men need to have in order to seem like a typical strong man: he must be brave, he must be a leader, and he must be a protector and provider.

First, he must be brave. Like Erastus Snow, I'd like to pose some rhetorical questions: what does it mean to be brave? Is it not to act courageously in the face of opposition? What opposition is there in love? What do men fight against? To be brave in love is not to sit back and wait for love to find us. To be brave in love is to put ourselves out there, be vulnerable, to play the game where our hearts are the stakes. To be brave in love is to play for keeps. Our culture would have us believe that men must be brave in other things and save our courage for other fields. Our culture would have us believe that it is "manly" to not let ourselves be hurt. Our culture would have us take our hearts out of the equation. Our culture would have us stay back from the fight and only enter on terms of complete emotional armor; we are not to have any chance of being hurt. To me, that is cowardly. To me, that is not brave. To me, that is the opposite of masculinity.

Second, he must be a leader. Our cultural standards would have us believe that men must be the aggressors. We must lead the charge. We must escalate. This is all true. It is our job. The problem is that we don't do it. Our charges are feints, our forays distractions. We are so hung up on being strong that it makes us forget our responsibilities. We can't possibly be bold, for therein lies the possibility of being hurt, and to be hurt is to be weak. And we can't have weak leaders now can we? Really it is those that lay wounded and dying that have exhibited their manliness and done their job, not the cool and emotionally detached onlooker. To lead is to be in the mix, not watching from afar.

Third, he must be a protector and provider. What does the emotionally invulnerable male protect but himself? What does he provide but misery for those who would be with him? True masculinity means getting out there and finding someone to protect and provide for, no matter the cost. And make no mistake, the cost is emotional hurt. We need to change the roles of men. We need to be more like the romantics. We need to write poetry and pursue unrequited love and do whatever it takes, and women and men alike must come to see this for what it is. Not weakness. But strength. Determination. Leadership. Fulfilling our role as protector, as provider. Alanis said it like this:

You, with your eyes mix strength with abandon
You, with your new kind of heroism ...
This is a thank you for letting me in
Indeed in praise of the vulnerable man

Now, if men start doing these things and putting their hearts out there, and start becoming emotionally available it becomes the job of women to "...vow to be true / ...vow to not take advantage." Reward rather than punish men for this new found heroism. Don't be callous. Don't be cold. See his actions for what they are. Let them become admirable in your eyes. Praise the vulnerable man. He might be the manliest man you know.

[Keep following and I'll tell of the time my sister's ballet instructor hit on me.]

I've Always Wanted

A scar on my face.

THINK about it. I would have instant street cred., no awkward silences, and I would be super intimidating/sexy.

Street cred. because everyone would be like, "Whoa, he obviously knows how to handle himself on the streets." They would see my sweet gnarled scar tissue and listen up when I spoke. If I escaped with only this scar on my face the other guy would necessarily look much worse. The fact that I would survive any encounter with anything that would leave that sweet of a scar makes me automatically a leader of men.

No awkward pauses. Think about it. If any silence in conversation were to arise, there would only be one option, and that is to ask, "HOW DID YOU GET THAT SWEET A** SCAR?" And if they had asked me, like most, immediately after meeting me for the first time, and subsequently had already heard the awesome story behind it, they would ask about it again. Just because it is so unbelievably awesome. They would need to hear the story again to make sure they didn't miss any details.

How would all men react upon seeing my scar? I'll tell you. They would first get out of my way, second give me all their cash/girlfriends, and third try to elect me into public office because I obviously know what I'm doing. All of that or they would simply cower in fear of my manliness. What would women do? Besides swooning, not much.

THAT is why I want a scar on my face. Not too big to obscure any of my features, not too small to be confused with some minor injury incident, and just deep enough to make all your wishes come true. Like gazing into a leprechaun's pot. Maybe a curved line down one of my cheeks. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Try and tell me you don't want to ask him where he got his scar. Awesome.

[Keep following. Who knows what I'll do next?]

I'll keep trying 'til it works.

The city lights blur and streak by and I
drive to be alone and listen
to the saddest songs that make me
feel less a fool.

I pull off the road
park in a rest stop
scrawl these lines out,
I guess, for myself.

I write these words out because I'm
too much a coward to cut them in my skin.
I write them on a napkin because it's
poetic. And because bleeding wouldn't do them justice.

Even here among paltry raindrops
and shady overpasses your ghost finds me. I've
always said I would become a trucker if my
life fell to pieces.

That doesn't seem so funny now.
Because at least they can sleep soundly in backseat cabins around me.

I feel a fool for the time I
spent pining over you, yet it's
not pride that restrains my tears but my
damned fool's hope. Foolish optimism. Whatever you call it.

To my dismay even my best friends abandon me now.
My best friends are words. Sad, I know.

But I've left nonetheless and I'll
come back even less sure of why I
keep driving away like this.
I don't dream. But I did yesterday.

It ruined my day. Not because it was a bad dream.
But that only my pillow was close when I
woke. And the realization that in living lies the nightmare.
I've tried my best to lose you.
In vain. Again.

[Keep following. Manly post coming right up.]

Strange Things Are Afoot

In the laundry room.
I have a wild affair with laundry day. It's hot and cold. On again, off again. Today was a good day. We spent a few hours together and cleared some things up. It had been awhile since we've seen each other. Our relationship isn't perfect, but show me someone who has a good relationship with laundry day.

Laundry day inspires me, leaves me half-naked, and is always stressful.

Laundry day's influence is apparent in one of my previous works.

Laundry day is needy. Takes my time and money. And is obsessed with quarters for some reason. I thought this was 2010? Who uses quarters anymore? I hate going to the bank just to withdraw quarters from my account. I feel like it is one of those mundane errands that is made even more annoying by the fact that I can't function without doing it. Like grocery shopping. If I had unlimited funds I would send servants to withdraw quarters for me.

I can never seem to dress right around laundry day. I'm either in shabby mismatched grubbies and I feel awkward, or I go in my normal clothes and I get judged by laundry day's friends in the laundry room.

It's also stressful because laundry day always insists upon sneaking up on me. I am just going about my week like regular until I realize I haven't seen laundry day in awhile and then bam! laundry day is right behind me.

I know laundry day is good for me. I'm sure we'll sort out our issues.


[I know it's not manly, but it is funny. Keep following because next time I will tell you why whale meat is awesome.]

All I Ever Needed To Know (Part 3)

"There were times when we would look at each other - oh Mother, I could hardly breathe." This contains elements of the first phase of our love lives and the second phase but it also contains a more developed third phase. I'll explain. 1. There is a sense of childish infatuation and lust in those words that cannot be denied, 2. but there is no logic behind this statement for Maria is planning on taking vows of celibacy, 3. and yet there is an austere maturity that is developing. This is Maria thinking out loud. Her understanding has not yet caught up to her vocal chords. She is saying that she loves.

Nietzsche would say that this statement is both Apollonian and Dionysian. It fits the Apollonian structure and form of true love. It is the embodiment of true and everlasting love, unique and individual, it serves to define her feelings.
And yet the very same statement is wildly Dionysian. It captures wild lust and embodies her sophomoric attraction to that which she has never experienced. She is drawn away from her life of order into a chaotic realm where nothing is sure.

One could say that true love requires both attributes although they are diametrically opposed to one another. What could be more drab than love without some amount of teenage lust? And what could be more unfulfilling than unbridled lust without some amount of the unfailing devotion that is love? Both make up true love.

And once again, I couldn't tell you why Maria worked out when the Baroness didn't. One thing is sure, The Baroness got it wrong when she said, "There's nothing more irresistible to a man than a woman who's in love with him." That wasn't it. She assumes that the fault rests only with Maria. That the Captain "Just couldn't resist." But we find out later why it didn't work out when the Captain says, "Well, you can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else... can you?"

I guess that is the the heart of the problem. There is no reason behind it. He is just in love with someone else.

But that someone else is someone who understands him. Maria says of him, "I can't ask him to be less than he is." For all her inexperience and naivety, she happens to be more right for Von Trapp than the one that logic approved.

So the next time you are feeling like you don't have any idea what is going on, just remember that Feeling may sweep you up at any second and all you can do is go where it takes you or bow out. And if you are in a relationship, don't forget the "Maria Problem". There is no way to prepare for it. But just be aware that there is no logic behind what you feel. Just obey. The answer to the question, "How do you solve a problem like Maria?" is, "You don't."
Take all this for what it's worth.

[OK my fellow Men, keep following because the next post will all be about motor oil and chainsaws.]

All I Ever Needed To Know (Part 2)

Before 500 Days of Summer there was The Sound of Music.
We all know of the relationship that had every reason to work out, but didn't. Some of us know first hand how this feels. Others can only imagine. Leave reason and logic in the closet for this next one, folks. For here we enter the domain of Feeling. More often than not, in these circumstances, rationality is left behind and in turn, whim takes the place that planning once occupied. Fancy replaces reality. Common sense is exchanged for raw emotion. There is no understanding here. Things simply are.

The Baroness and Captain Von Trapp have every reason to be married. Both are wealthy and attractive. They love each other and enjoy each others company. Their relationship is drama free and steady-as-she-goes. But all it takes is one Maria to bring the clockwork to a shuddering halt. It reminds me of a Henrik Ibsen quote, "Your home is regarded as a model home, your life as a model life. But all this splendor, and you along with it... it's just as though it were built upon a shifting quagmire. A moment may come, a word can be spoken, and both you and all this splendor will collapse." With routine love comes also a forgetting of the fragility of things. More people than just the nuns are driven to think intensely about the "Maria Problem".

With prolonged steadiness comes a feeling of security. This isn't bad, it's natural. It's only natural to feel safe in familiarity and routine. All you need to do is work at a theme park to realize that behind momentary excitement rests drudgery. Often, relationships that have every reason to work well, simply don't. We could postulate theories all day long as to the whys and hows but that would be fruitless. It would be like trying to know the unknowable. All we must know is that it happens and it is out of our control. And sometimes, just sometimes, a relationship that has absolutely no reason to work, simply does. Let this be a lesson to us all, "You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could swear, and curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go."

The Baroness played her part well. She realized what had happened and excused herself, "Somewhere out there is a lady who I think will never be a nun. Auf Wiedersehen, darling." She kept her dignity and went on living. I'm positive things turned out well for her.
To be continued...

[Keep following for in my next post I will reveal why toast always lands butter-side down. I wish part 2 was more satisfying, don't you?]

All I Ever Needed To Know About Love...

... I learned from The Sound of Music.
Hear me out. I'm serious. This movie contains many of the combinations and possibilities for love and relationships (and contains some surprisingly good advice if you pay attention). Although the movie was made in 1965 the situations are still applicable today. This must mean that, for all our discoveries, the greatest mystery remains the opposite sex. There are three main situations in which we find ourselves when it comes to love. These situations change as we get older, but elements of them all can be found in every relationship. They are universal. This is the first.

For most Mormons, like Liesl, our first experience with love happens when we are about 'sixteen going on seventeen.' Things are complicated. We still live at home. Our parents (rightly) see our naivety and warn us of the dangers of dating too soon. Thus we are forced to keep our love secret. Hidden away. We have reached the golden age of invincibility. Our hearts haven't yet felt the stinging rebuke of rejection or unrequited infatuation. We charge blindly and love fiercely. We leave reason and reservations standing in the rain like unwanted party guests. Our lives revolve around this new high, and we give all we have for this new feeling; exhilarating and terrifying, like being in heaven and having the flu at the same time. Pulses race around twisting stomachs every time we read (or misread) a signal. We look for any support for our vain hope and we are rewarded.

That is, up until we find out that Rolf is actually a Nazi. Then the latent growing pains that were nothing but dull aches before turn into crashing waves that hit like blunt force trauma. We are suddenly no longer invincible. We all know what it was like back then. Everything was so grandiose. Our worlds began and ended with current circumstances. Any negative major event brought with it looming feelings of Armageddon, as if the world's very foundations would crack any minute. We live or die with our successes and failure. Girls would cry and boys sulk, too proud to let gathering drops fall.

But we recover. We find that we are more resilient than we thought. We learn that time is God's Band-Aid for emotional hurt. And we grow. We emerge a little more sure that next time we won't act the same way. Or, at the very least, we will be wary of the next set of charming blue eyes and blond hair that marches into our life.
To be continued...

[Keep following. Next time I will relate the story of how Hitler lost his bet with a midget. I mean little person.]