The Story

Remember how I was in the process of creating a 10 part series entitled, "How to Find a Mate in 2008"? I only published 2 entries and the remaining 8 are written on random pieces of note book paper scattered throughout my room. Back in March, in the midst of crafting what I thought would lead thousands to their mate in '08, I had an epiphany: I should follow my own advice.


My first step was to do some serious self-evaluation. March of this year, I realized I needed to become a better person, fear nothing, and focus on what I could control. Consequently, I was working 12 hour days at work, getting pay raises, exercising daily, focusing on my calling in Church, and working zealously to be the best I could be. I thought nothing of dating and guys-- I was burned out on dates, unproductive flirting, and mindless chatter at hormone infested parties. My new goal: To be the Sheri Dew of the 30-somethings!


About this time, I picked up an obsession for playing tennis. One Friday in May I wanted to play tennis so badly I went through my phone to see who could play. Everyone was on a stinking date! Boring. Everyone except for Scott. I hesitantly called him and we played that night.



Before I go any further, let me tell you about Scott. I have known him for over a year now. We have been in the same ward, gone to the same parties, have the same mutual friends. A year ago I asked him to some lame girl ask guy Stake activity only because he was safe and my roommate wanted to get to know him without having to ask him out. Of course, I ignored him the whole time. I am dumb like that. Here's a picture of me ignoring him that night:







Months later, he became good friends with my roommate and he would spend more and more time hanging out with us.

I never paid much attention to him then either. I was still in that phase where the flirty guys captured all my attention. That was probably because I was in denial that 30 years of age was staring me in the face.


In December Scott and I ended up talking one night and I remember thinking that he was amazing... but way too pensive, deep, quiet, and serious for me. I figured he probably didn't have a thing for women with social ADD.


Okay, back to May when Scott and I played tennis for the first time. We played for weeks and weeks after that. We became tennis partners and were the undefeated champions. After playing tennis, we ended up talking for hours and hours discussing and philosophizing. I saw a different side of him every night we would talk. I appreciated his emotional maturity, his depth of character, his view on life, his love for all people and sharing the gospel. We grew up in similar circumstances and he didn't ever go to BYU (which as I have mentioned in previous entries is always a plus). I would walk away from our conversations, empowered and eager to see him again.

About this time, I was going full speed ahead with improving my life. Work and tennis were the only things that ever consumed my time. Even though I Scott and I were becoming the best of friends, I refused to let myself fall into old patterns of running away out of fear. So I decided to just enjoy my friendship. That didn't last long though. I was secretly starting to like him-- never voiced it though (which was the smartest thing I ever did). I had no idea how he felt about me and I didn't want to know either.


Out of the blue one afternoon he sent me a text which read, "You want to go to dinner tonight? It's on me... Happy friendship appreciation day!" Blah blah blah. Free dinner, yes... but disappointed I was just becoming the best friend and wasting my time spending every spare moment with a guy who viewed me as just a friend. I went on the friendship appreciation day outing that night and I couldn't convince myself to run away even though I was just a friend.


For weeks and weeks following we would play tennis and talk for hours (every time he initiated it-- I NEVER called him). I was miserable yet content. I went on vacation for Florida for a week and missed him terribly. Then he went on vacation for a week and I missed him again. He called me when he got back and I was SO excited to talk to him. ARGH! I liked him A LOT.


Then, things got interesting. He asked me on a real date shortly after his return from vacation. We were inseparable from that point on. I found out what that whole friendship appreciation text was about-- he was just testing the waters. He's a smart guy.


Eventually, he became my best friend and my boyfriend! C-U-T-E. Did I mention he's 25?

The end.

Ten Reasons Why I "Love" Co-Ed Softball

1. My games are every Friday night.

2. The team name is awesome (joking)! "Half-cocked" is the name. I doesn't get any more covertly crass than that.

3. I was recruited by a friend of a friend of a friend. When I first heard of the opportunity, I envisioned playing with single athletic men, which would allow me to expand my social circle. Nope. I am the only single one, the only Mormon one and the only one who thinks the team name should be changed.

4. Alcohol is consumed before every game by my team (except me) and the other teams. It's easy to strike out the inebriated. My ERA is pretty darn good!

5. I played my first game with contacts. Turns out the softball isn't a yellow marshmallow afterall. Now that I can actually see the ball, it's so much easier to hit the ball. With my eye sight restored, combined with the tipsy opponents, I make it on base just about everytime. Today I even hit a triple!

6. Everytime I enter the softball park, I have to pay 3 bucks and get a token for a dollar off a cup of beer. That's how they convince the other players that the 3 bucks is a bargain. Works for them but it makes me mad.

7. When I hit the triple, a drunk man from the bleachers yelled, "Hey lady, you are my favorite!" He found me after the game to congratulate me and offer to buy me a beer. I graciously declined and told him the 1980's called and wanted his mullet back by tomorrow morning. He thought that was a pickup line.

8. On my way out of the complex, the umpire jokingly asked me what I was going to give him for being a good and fair ump. I gave him my token for a dollar off a cup of beer and introduced him to the mullet man. They became fast friends. In the end, the token turned out to be a bargain for me too.

9. The stench of nearby cow pastures made me homesick. Tonight my teammates where trying to figure out who pooped in the outfield. Some people just don't have a clue.

10. Thanks to team "Toothless Mullets" who watched our game to scope out the competition, I second-hand smoked about a pack of Marlboros tonight. I am such a hard-core rebel!

My Not So Secret Secret

Confession: I have an addiction to postsecret.com. For those of you who have never heard of that site before, it was put together by some guy back East. People from all over the world send him anonymous postcards with their secret and he chooses about 20 every week and puts them on his blog. I check that website weekly because I am fascinated with people in general and many times those secrets have a profound impact on my life. Sometimes I even shed a tear when I look at them because I am reminded of all the pain that is in the world and wish there was some way I could track the individuals down to provide encouragement.

So tonight, when I checked my email I was surprised to see that a guy in my ward sent me a link to this website which directed me to a specific post secret. Now, this guy has no idea that I check postsecret regularly (or that I know it exists). What I found most interesting is the post card he felt I should look at. Here it is:
















With that link was a short message from him that said, "many people feel your emotions".

The humorous (maybe sad?) part of it all is that if I were to send in a secret it would say,

"Every year I become more intelligent, more beautiful, and more successful... and more unlikely to find a man who will appreciate me without feeling threatened."

Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds bleak and probably a little sour. Blah blah blah. I don't feel hopeless, just a little frustrated. Why would a Mormon man want a driven 30 year old educated Mormon woman with a successful career when he could have an overly fertile 19 year old without a care in the world? Hey if I were man I would probably choose the latter too. It's much safer and requires a lot less work (or so it seems).

Lest you begin to think that this blog entry marks the beginning of countless Friday nights, alone with nothing to do but knit the shroud used to bury my dreams of finding love, know that I am neither fond of knitting or being at home. I love people. I love parties. I love flirting. I LOVE men. And I am beginning to love dating for more than just a free dinner (that's progress, right?)

I am just a little sad to find my secret isn't a secret after all.

Fermented Hormones and Broken Dreams

Tonight I attended a special fireside for members in the stake who are 30-39 years of age. I have to admit, part of me wanted to go just because attending would give me a story to tell...

I walked the door with confidence exuding from my 30 year old pores. Then, crossing the threshold from foyer to chapel, the pungent smell of fermented hormones burned my nostrils. I suppose when you get to be my age, exuding confidence is often mistaken for old, crusty hormones? I was now one of "them"... You know, one those singles who never thought they would be single in their 30's attending some fireside created to restore hope to the hopeless. I felt similar to how I did on my first day of kindergarten... really wanting to feel grown up but also longing for the comfort of preschool. I am not ready for this... Mentally, I just thought of the fireside as a short orientation to the kindergarten rather than a first day-- kind of like a "this is what you have to look forward to if you don't find a mate in 2008". In the words of Garth Brooks, "I am much too young to feel this damn old."

Looking around the room was painfully comforting. I saw beautiful people in every size and color who just wanted their Mormon dreams to come true. They announced at the beginning that in the valley there were 3,000 singles between the ages of 30-39. My cynical mind broke it down as such: Of the 3,000 people, 2,000 of are women. Of those 2,000 women, 1,499 of them are beautiful, successful educated women who are looking and waiting for the perfect guy to come along. The other 500 were home schooled which explains why they are single (joking, joking). Really, the other 500 are looking too hard for any guy to come along. And the remaining 1 would rather date men under the age of 25 (her name is Anneliesa and she needs help).

And the 1,000 guys? 500 like younger, more fertile women. 300, are bitter because LDSsingles.com didn't find them a wife and so they've stopped trying. Of the remaining 200, half have "issues" and the other 100 are wonderful guys. So the final breakdown: 100 great guys and 2,000 great girls. No wonder I can't find a spouse...

Okay, getting back to the fireside... it was amazing. The General Authority didn't give the usual, "Even a old barn looks better painted" speech. He didn't tell the story about how 36 year old Fifi McFarffin prayed for 40 days to find a spouse... and on the 40th day she met Richy Richguy. I don't need success stories... I need DOCTRINE! And so it was... he taught doctrine and I loved it. I could spend hours writing what I learned but I am saving that for posterity to read.

I tried to find a boyfriend tonight so I would have a fun story to tell. Instead I talked to the same old people (no pun intended), talking about the same old thing. For the first time this year I was happy with being 30. Every year, I become a little more educated, a little more successful, and whole lot better looking. Some may claim that with all the improvements come a decrease in the likelihood I will find a mate. That may be true... but at least I am enjoying the ride!

I am going to end with one of my favorite poems by Langston Hughes. It's deep and applicable in an abstract way.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

If You Want Greener Pastures, Don't Plant Seeds. Buy Turf.

Last Thursday, a friend of mine asked if I would go with her to San Francisco for the weekend. She assured me that it would be a quick trip (24 hours) and that it would be fun. I didn't want to go but didn't have a reason to use to get out of it. I had nothing planned for the weekend and the shortness of the trip would allow me to be home to go to work on Monday. I knew she needed my help so hesitantly accepted the invitation.

I got back last night from San Francisco and it finally occurred to me tonight why I didn't want to go with her in the first place...

When I was a senior at BYU, my Bishop at the time told me that I needed to get out of Provo as quickly as possible after graduation. He said I needed to be around young professionals who were in the same stage of life I was. Also he said I would thrive being around men who were driven and successful-- men would would finally appreciate me for being goal-oriented and intelligent. He suggested two places: Washington D.C. and San Francisco. I chose Phoenix because it seemed the easiest and least overwhelming.

Most of the people I met in the San Francisco Young Single Adult ward were men (of course). These guys were my age, attractive, most were in their careers (high paying ones), and intelligent. They exuded life experience and appreciation for all things hippie. Really, that's my kind of men! Sigh. I really fit in there-- for the first time in my life, I realized that being an educated, driven, independent LDS woman isn't synonymous with being demanding, controlling and anti-marriage/family. It was then that I knew had I moved to San Francisco after graduating from BYU, poor but happy would be my life. I am a Northern Californian, regardless of the fact I grew up in the arm pit of it all.

Tonight I am extremely pensive and can't help but wonder how my life would be different had I chosen to go to San Francisco. Even more on my mind is the question of whether there are guys in Phoenix like the ones I met in San Fran. If they are here, I haven't met very many of them. Perhaps that's because a large majority of the guys here just came from BYU*, so I find a similar mentality here as I did in Provo. Maybe I just live in the wrong part of Phoenix?

To add to my mild lament, I was at my ward's FHE tonight, minding my own business flirting with all that walked by. A guy friend came up to me and said, "You know, it would never work out between us because you are too driven. You expect the best and aren't willing to settle for anything but that. Plus, you really aren't needy enough." I was shocked (not really). After he said that, I had this vision of me vehemently saying "No, we wouldn't work out because you are afraid that if we were in a relationship you would actually have to work at it and you aren't willing to do that. I am not going to dumb-down and be more needy so that you feel less insecure." And then I had a picture of me kicking him in the shins just for fun.

Instead I said, "Cool." and walked away.

First of all, why do men feel the need to give me unsolicited feedback, stating the obvious?

Second, if I didn't have a solid job in Tempe, his comment would have sent me back on the plane to San Francisco and into the arms of my adoring and intellectual new found fans.

When people complain about how they wish they were in a different ward or location I normally respond with, "We should spend less time looking for greener pastures and more time cultivating them where we are." I know this still holds true for me... but what do I do if I feel I am continuously planting seeds, only to wait... and wait... and wait... for them to mature?


*Ryan, if you read this entry know that I put that in just for you-- that's all the bitterness I have for today :)

Anneliesa and Pedro's High School Reunion

I loved high school and I am not ashamed to admit it. Even though I was half chola, half Mormon and pretty miserable most of the time, they were the best moments of my life. I had only one wish back then and that was to be as adroit with men as I was with softball. It's true that some things never change.

Experiences in my life are mentally organized into chapters. Recently, I was forced to unexpectedly write the end of the tragic chapter entitled, "Anneliesa and Pedro's* High School Reunion". For over a year now, I have been holding out for a surprising, romantic finish. Admittedly (albeit selfish), I considered this mini love story to have a happy ending only if I walked emotionally unscathed into the sunset.

The close of the chapter symbolizes transfer of the ongoing experience to a mere memory, only to be retold for posterity's sake. Before it is placed on the shelf, I will tell the story which will help you to fully comprehend the significance of the experience. I realize that telling the story honestly will reveal qualities about myself that I need to change. Some people tell me I disclose too much about myself, and that may be true. However, I find comfort in knowing that these weaknesses are quite universal due to our human nature. In other words, whether you admit it or not, you have been in a similar situation. With that stated, here is the chapter and the tragic end:

High school chemistry was an exciting class. The subject wasn't really all that interesting, but the guy in the lab group behind me sure was. Pedro was a shy but popular senior, the captain of the basketball team, and all the girls thought he was "fine" (a term used frequently in the 90's). As much as I despised following the crowd, I was one of those girls.

Pedro's lab group was right behind mine. I would turn around once every class to ask his group a question to the lab assignment. Every time, I was greeted by his dark eyes and gentle smile. Occasionally, we would make small talk about the upcoming basketball game and if I was lucky, we would engage in fluffy banter. He didn't know a thing about chemistry and occasionally I would give him an answer or two to help him out. It didn't matter though because he was so cute! I kept my "love" for him a secret, partly because I knew I never had a chance and partly because I loved the thrill of the chase.

A few months before the senior prom, I found myself daydreaming daily of Pedro asking me to go with him and how I would be the luckiest girl in school if that ever happened. I got asked.... not by him but by my best friend who resembled "Duckie" in the movie, Pretty in Pink (turns out I fell at the prom that year, showing my classmates my underwear-- Specifics of that story are found in the unwritten chapter entitled, "How I Became Senior Class President").

Pedro graduated in June of that year. He got my number and called me a few times over the summer because he knew I was Mormon and since his dad was a Pentecostal preacher he had a lot of questions for me. We would argue and debate for hours about religion. It was great and I was in love. He went to college and I never saw him again. I thought about him ever year though, wondering if he ever felt about me the way that I did him...

A year and a half ago, almost 10 years from our last phone call, he tracked me down sent me an email. He wasn't sure what had happened to me over the past years and thought he would find out. We emailed back and forth for a few weeks and then called me. Catching up was great! We had our religious debate as if time hadn't passed. And then it happened. He said in a nervous, quiet voice, "Anneliesa, did you know that my senior year I went to all of your softball games? I wanted to ask you to the prom and didn't go because I heard you had already been asked. Religion was just my excuse to hear your voice. Over the past few years I have thought about you frequently... and in talking to you now, those same feelings I had for you when I first met you in high school are still there." I don't remember what I said in response, but I am sure it was similar to what a socially inept 16 year old girl would say after hearing something like that. After all these years my secret high school crush had actually felt for me the way I did him!! Now what?

He flew out a month after that and our reunion was anticlimactic, although I refused to admit it because I wanted to like him like I did before. It was as if we were still in chemistry class, clumsily flirting with words void of substance. We had nothing in common but the town we grew up in. He was now a serious, articulate and a successful businessman. I now had a personality, an opinion, and a sense of humor--which I am sure he was shocked to discover. He flew back to California. I later gave the excuse that the relationship would never come to fruition unless he converted and we spend more time together. Both proved impossible when he said he didn't want to be Mormon for me and I said I would never move to California.

Pained by the standstill, he stopped talking to me. I was okay with that because I knew that he still had feelings for me and that was enough to preserve my self-esteem. I liked the idea of being liked (who doesn't?). Ashamed to admit this, I would purposely contact him so I could hear him say, "I still really like you but talking to you is too painful." Sadly, I used Pedro to help me patch up my heart, which had been broken a year prior. I figured that holding on to him (even though unfair) would get me through until someone else came along.

This is where it turns "tragic"-- I found out today that Pedro met someone, fell in love and is soon to be married. So here I am, still painfully and selfishly single, watching him walk away into the sunset with his true love, which he rightfully deserves.

The story really is only tragic in the sense that it marks the death of my once-thriving pride which lived for too long in heart protected by egocentricity. Fortunately, this experience welcomes the the birth of a new chapter in which I finally realize that protecting my heart forever from emotional bruises will never lead to a true "happy ending". He was able to love anew because he did not close his heart to other possiblities, even though what he wanted didn't work out. Lesson learned. Thanks Pedro.

*name changed to protect the identity of just one of the many men who painfully learned patience by dating me. :)

FIND A MATE IN 2008: Introduction and Part 2 of 10

Best Friends?

"Being friends with someone you would rather be in love with is like being invited behind the barn to look at the stars and just looking at the stars"

A few years ago, I had this vision about how my life was going to go regarding marriage. I envisioned that my future husband would be this handsome guy whom I had known for a long time, basically my best friend. I would listen to his “girl problems” and he would pretend to be my boyfriend at my high school reunion (every relationship needs an element of reciprocity). Over time he would notice how beautiful I really am and eventually would fall in love with me. When that finally happened, we would get married. Yeah, I had it all figured out.

Then one day, I realized that this idea was so DUMB for many reasons! Let me explain.

First of all, why do we enjoy being enslaved by false hopes? The “what ifs” get us through the lonely days. Eventually though, they turn into tombstones marking buried dreams. For example, you might say, “What if he gets a concussion resulting in amnesia and forgets he’s really not attracted to me?” or “What if one day he realizes that he can’t do any better?” Then there’s my all time favorite, “What if I dye my hair blonde, un-smart myself, and lose 100lbs? Then he will love me.” Hate to break it to you sister, but those women who ultimately find the love of their life don’t wait around for “what ifs” to become reality because they usually never do. It doesn’t even happen in the movies! Those women who have love either let things happen (not by force) or if nothing happens, they move on.

Second idiotic thought: “over time he will realize how beautiful I really am”. I don’t want to “grow” on some man. Last time I checked, I am not a fungus. How romantic will it be when he tells the story of how you two fell in love and it goes something like this: “Yeah, at first I thought she was a troll. Then after liposuction, she turned out to be just what I wanted. She’s so beautiful to me now.” (I think I just threw up in my mouth) Here’s a little secret about men that I learned from teaching sex ed (8th graders know so much)… Men of all ages are visual creatures. If they don’t find you attractive right away, they never will. If his attraction for you waxes and wanes, understand that your relationship will never be anything more than platonic. Men aren’t shallow, they are just men. Trust me with this one- (un)fortunately, I know. It’s much better to wait for that guy who is instantly attracted to you. Please don’t think you shouldn’t try to be attractive because a guy should “love you for who you are”. That’s dumb too. If you are doing everything you can, just be patient. The best feeling in the world is when the man you love looks you in the eyes and you just know he thinks you are the most beautiful woman in the world. You were made to be adored. To accept anything less that that would be an insult to your Creator

I am going to use my “spotlight analogy” to illustrate my third point. Picture this with me. You are holding a bright spotlight on your “love” who is on center stage (right where you put him). The spotlight is powered by all the effort and energy you put into the relationship. When a light is shining in his face, it’s so bright that he can’t even see you. What does this mean? He doesn’t like YOU, he likes the attention and enjoys basking in the energy you are so willing to giving him. He will keep consuming that energy, because he can (if the roles were reversed, you would do it too). Consequently, when you put the spotlight on him, it dims your vision, disabling you from noticing other men who are waiting in the wings to adore you.

Lastly, each of us knows deep down that the guy who we are best friends with doesn’t have any romantic feelings for us. I can’t say this enough… if he talks to you every night but asks out other girls, HE IS NOT INTERESTED IN YOU ROMANTICALLY. If you have to ask your friends if he is interested in you, HE’S NOT. If you have to analyze his every word and move to prove to yourself he likes you that means it’s time to move on. STOP WASTING YOUR TIME!!!

If you are in this situation, I urge you to liberate yourself from the chains of unachievable romance. As painful as it is to break from those shackles now, it’s a whole lot easier than having to sit in the front row at his wedding, wishing his bride-to-be was you instead.

Ultimately, I will marry my best friend. But that friendship will be born from adoration and admiration on ALL levels.

If you really need a best friend, buy a dog. Sadly, it will be as attracted to you as your guy best friend but at least Scruffy will never get married.