Mauled while dialing

Over the past two or three days I’ve learned something valuable, something I wish I’d known years ago. It is this: when a guy asks a girl out, there are two possibilities: the girl likes him, or she doesn’t. If she likes him, everything charming he does will produce inner squeals of joy in the girl, and any mistakes he makes will be immediately forgiven. If she doesn’t like him, on the other hand, all of his attempts at being gentlemanly will feel hollow to her, and any mistakes he makes will be instant death (so to speak). Why is this valuable? For me, it reduces an unmanageable universe of complexity into a simple yes-or-no. It means that instead of having to interpret a myriad of possibilities, all I really have to watch for is whether or not she likes me. (Yes, I know there are shades. But let’s not worry about those — the point being, the girl either likes the guy (however little or however much), or she doesn’t.) If she likes me, I don’t have to be nervous about making mistakes. And if I can tell that she doesn’t like me, then that’ll be the last date. Easy and simple.

Or at least in theory. :) I’m conveniently ignoring the fact that some girls (and probably some guys) don’t become attracted to their future spouse until months or even years of friendship. Growing into love, they call it. But it messes up my theory here, so in the interest of reducing my stress when asking girls out, I’m going to pretend it doesn’t exist. Man, I knew I was destined to be a philosopher. ;)

In other news, my roommate’s car got hit by a deer last night in the middle of University Avenue. $4,000 worth of damage. Nobody hurt, though. Earlier last night I passed two deer on my walk down the hill. Scared the heck out of me at first — my overactive imagination assumed they’d be mountain lions, and already my mind was reeling as it frantically tried to calculate the distance to the nearest emergency payphone and then imagined getting mauled while dialing. Not to mention I’d probably slip on the ice on my way over. I could run, too, but my bet is that a mountain lion can run faster than me. I know, it’d probably be close, but… ;) Anyway, I was relieved to find that it was just a couple of deer, but then I started wondering if they would trample me. Repeat previous scene in mind, this time with deer instead of a mountain lion. Not that deer are aggressive, really — I suppose I was more concerned that they wouldn’t notice me, or they’d slip on the way down the stairs and come a-tumbling down.

Sometimes I have to wonder about my imagination. :)

Two more things and then I need to start writing this paper I’m avoiding. (It’s going to be an analysis of Robert Reid’s painting “Against the Sky.” I’m not quite sure why I chose an Impressionist painting, since Impressionism isn’t exactly my cup o’ herbal tea, but the museum staff were looking anxious as I took notes — apparently you’re not allowed to sketch things while in the exhibits — and so I quickly chose a piece, wrote down some notes and tried to make it very conspicuous that I was writing text and not drawing anything (though I did draw some arrows to remind me of the diagonal movement of the brush strokes, realizing with half a panic as I did that it might just qualify as sketching, so I hastily folded up my paper and tried to calmly walk out of the exhibit).)

Still two more. It’s Saturday night and I could be on a date. But I’m obviously not on a date, and as I was walking up the stairs of the library, I realized that, excepting a date alone, there’s nowhere I’d rather be on a Friday or Saturday night. Okay, I’m not quite sure how seriously I mean that. But I do heart the library. It’s my sanctuary, my solace, my headquarters.

And finally, over the past couple of days there’ve been a handful of exciting developments with the C.S. Lewis Society. First, we’re going to have an arts contest for works inspired by C.S. Lewis (essays, stories, poetry, visual arts, music), and we’re going to start a student journal (which will publish the winners later this semester). Christmas for Ben all over again. (I edited the literary magazine and newspaper in high school for two years, and boy oh boy do I miss working on a publication!) Mmm. :)

Anyway, I now must shift gears and start talking about the American ideals Robert Reid expressed in his painting…

As one of the exceptions to the previously stated “rule,” I have to interject, despite your disclaimers. To use Pride and Prejudice as an example, not everyone has a Jane-Bingley kind of love. Some love grows slowly–Elizabeth and Darcy, for example. And I might have to side with Jane Austen in saying that this type of love might be the better type. (Gah, I’m agreeing with Jane Austen! What is the world coming to?)

That said, I turn to Churchill: “Continuous effort - not strength or intelligence - is the key to unlocking our potential.” Good luck! ;)

Okay, okay, you’ve got a point. :) As for whether it’s better, I’m finding myself agreeing as well — it’s more of a natural growth, and it’s far less stressful (I think) because you’re not worrying about romance until it sneaks up on you from behind. But it doesn’t always happen that way. Maybe someday I’ll write a book on categories of romance. (Librarians do such things, you know.) Actually, if such a book were to be written, I’m pretty sure a woman would have to write it. Men can’t write books like that without endangering themselves. ;)

I think you’re also discounting the fact that 99% of the female population is inherently indecisive. I’ve dated girls where they didn’t know how they felt, even weeks into the relationship. They were testing the waters, open to the possibility that it might work out, but it wasn’t black/white for them from the get go…

I will second Connor on that one. Oh yes.

Ah, I’ve learned something: in the past, it’s always been black or white for me within a few minutes of the first date, and apparently I’ve projected that onto the female population without even realizing it. Fascinating. (I’m starting to change, which is one of the reasons this is now readily apparent to me. I always thought that my initial reaction was gospel, burned into stone, and now I’m realizing that it may not be the way things are done. Suffice it to say that it’s been a much-needed humbling experience, and I do believe I’m getting closer to the truth. That’s always a good thing. It’s like casting off dragonskin in C.S. Lewis’s The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Not the most pleasant experience, perhaps, but so worth it.)

The lesson in my D&C class just now seemed to echo this: we talked about D&C 86 and the parable of the wheat and the tares. If you pluck early, it’s awfully hard to tell the difference between the real plants and the weeds, and you could easily pull out a genuine plant without realizing it. It is therefore better to wait until the plants mature, when you can easily tell the difference.

Relationships are often thus. (Though I do want to add that sometimes it’s very clear that a relationship won’t work out, and I don’t think we have any obligation to pursue it. Like if the other person is a convicted murderer or a drug dealer or something. Not that that’s happened to me, of course. :P)