Post Mission Dating...

When I got home from my mission my parents thought I had a gay lover. This kid, by the name of Conrad, and I did everything together. We took the same classes, had the same job, and were basically with each other 24/7. We had a lot of good times together. Another thing we did together was date… not each other (though some would argue that) but fine, grade A women. We needed one anothers support because we were still afraid of the ladies. So you didn’t get one without the other. But I felt we were a pretty good team. We had a lot of good dating experiences. One of our first dates home consisted of Dirty Ric, Conrad, and myself taking three lovely ladies up to my buddy Conrad’s property (the yurt) for some late night four-wheeling. The car ride up was toasty and I sat on some leather seats in the back of the suburban. When we arrived I was anxious to get out for I was too bashful to ask for a little air on the way up and was excited to step out to catch a cool mountain breeze. As I exited the car, Ric’s date said, “Oh Stew, did you sit in something?” as I immediately responded, “Dude, Ric, what was on your back seat?” (Immediately knowing that my shirt had fully absorbed the swack due to the hot leather seats) It was the start of a beautiful beautiful night. Our dates were hungry so we decided to woo them with our cooking skills as we burned a footlong sausage over the fire till it was black and all partook of it directly from the stick it was cooked on. It wasn’t the sausage that was delicious but the friendships that were built from such a wonderful experience.

Conrad and I had delightful dating experiences but we also had our awkward moments. We picked up our blind dates one night in the beautiful Provo Valley and we didn’t have a lot to say to the young ladies after we had introduced ourselves. As we drove in silence down University Ave. Connor was desperate to strike up a conversation, so he browsed his surroundings. The next thing I heard was “Big O Tires…. good times… good times,” thinking that would help the awkward silence. We soon arrived to Noodles n’ Company for a tasty meal. Conversation at that point had not yet picked up so Connor, in a panic said, “I love cheese,” as he gazed at his Mac n’ Cheese, “What kinda cheese do you ladies like?” For the next half hour we engaged in a fascinating conversation about different cheeses. It was one of the better dates we went on…

One of my favorite memories was on a date with a gal whom I was whooped over a couple months after the mish. It was a fun night and it was time for the moment I dreaded… the doorstep scene. Being a newbie to the whole dating thing, the doorstep scared me to death even though I knew nothing was going to happen because Conrad was 20 feet away. I wanted to be smooth so I got out of the car and was thinking to myself all the way to the door. I didn’t hear a word she said though she yapped my ear off every step of the way. As we hugged good-bye I was immediately back peddling due to fear. Then she said, as I was back peddling through her mothers garden, “I had fun, we should do this again soon.” I was still talking in my head at the time so I’m lucky I heard what she said. After telling myself over and over to be smooth, I looked her square in the eye with a sudden leap of confidence and said, “Ya do whatchya do.” I turned around with a look of disgust. What the hell did I just say??? I whispered “ya do whatchya do” to myself over and over as I walked towards the car trying to figure out what the hell that even means. As I got in the car Connor asked, “How was it?” I immediately said, “She told me she had fun and that she wants to go out again.” He said, “Sweet man!” “Yeah, but I told her she does what she does…”

My Birthday!

When I was chillin in the womb at about eight months my mom took a spill. I stopped moving. Frantic and afraid her favorite child would not be born my mom went to the hospital. The doctor was worried about me so they did an emergency C-section to find out that the umbilical cord had been wrapped around my neck. Once they untangled me the fresh air had never tasted so fine and lets be honest, I was probably the best looking baby that hospital had ever seen. That was 25 years ago to the day and hot damn it's been a good 25 years!

I was hanging out with my friend Nat Johnson the other day and found out she is always writing in her journal. It made me think that maybe I ought to start documenting little bits and pieces of my life and my thoughts but instead of having a personal journal I wanted it to be a little somethin somethin for my friends and family as well. So why not start it up on my 25th birthday?

Daily Awkward Moments...

I have come to realize that there aren’t too many people more awkward than me as I walk around USU’s campus. I have noticed that I have multiple awkward experiences daily. It all starts with a simple “How are you?” and it’s all down hill from there. I always say “How are you?” at the exact same time as the other person and then it falls in complete silence as we wait for one another to answer. Then, when we finally get the courage to answer, we say “good” at the exact same time, give each other weird looks, and walk away. How is it possible to mess up a simple “Hello, How are you?” If you can’t master that you’re due for a lot of awkward experiences in life.

The best is when you see someone walking towards you, someone you don’t know well enough to stop and talk with but that you will throw out an occasional “what’s up” to. The other day I saw a girl that I knew from church walking towards me. We both threw out the “How are ya?” at the exact same time as we passed each other. We both turned around and kept eye contact (even though we were walking opposite directions) to see how the other would respond. I held strong, I didn’t want to answer “good” at the same time so I didn’t say anything. She obviously had the same plan or didn’t hear me ask how she was. When we were about 30 feet away and after about 10 seconds of extreme eye contact I couldn’t take the silence anymore so I shouted at the top of my lungs “good!!!!!!,” she gave me a weird look and we both went our separate ways. I don’t say “hi” to her as I pass her on campus anymore.

There is also the classic “How are you?” as I quickly respond “nothing” or “What’s up man?” as I respond “Good dude, How you doin?.” It seems that I’m not as quick on my feet as I’d like to be. If you are having similar experiences at work or school... you are not alone.

Minivans

The other day I took a stroll in a minivan and I'm just curious, has anybody ever been in a minivan that didn't smell like dirty diapers, have smashed potato chips on the seats (that had been there long enough to have little grease rings around the edges in the cloth seat), and didn't have a sticky residue on the handle? Cuz I'm pretty sure these "features" come standard in the Minivan Package. The worst part about it is that the windows don't roll down in the backseat. They just have those ones you gotta push out, giving you a solid inch of airflow. So you end up having to crack it open and wedge your face between the plastic and the window just to catch a breath of fresh air. Next time you pass a minivan on the freeway and you see nothing but lips and a nose poking out of that crack you'll know exactly what it smells like in that vehicle.

When buying a minivan the salesman will try to woo you with the automatic sliding doors and the tv's in the back of the headrests, but don't be fooled... it'll still have that dirty diaper smell and it's only a matter of time before the greasy chips stick to your pants and there's a sticky residue in the palm of your hand that smells of sour milk.

Keep a close eye on the people driving the minivans too. A large percentage of them will be in old baggy sweat pants with some sort of stain on them. I think they throw the sweats in when ya make that sweet minivan purchase.

My Childhood

Growing up, dressing as a woman and grabbing my crotch to "Bad" by Michael Jackson wasn't exactly out of the norm for me and were actually everyday activities. My family travelled a lot and I had a hobby of buying and collecting rocks everywhere we went. I would save up my allowance (which was a quarter a day for cleaning my room) to purchase ROCKS... I guess the simple things in life satisfied me and I wasn't about to go dig them up myself. That would require work and I wasn't about to work for my passions.

My family used to call me the "Mean Bean" but truth be told I've only been in one fight in my entire life... it was a blood bath... punches were thrown that afternoon on the playground and me thinks I could hear cries for help in the background, unfortunately... those cries were on my behalf, none of my punches landed. I had other plans and techniques. I just decided to curl up in the fetal position while he kicked the shiz out of me for a few minutes and that was that. Playing dead was my line of defense. It was three minutes of public humiliation on the playground. Right then and there as a 3rd grader laid bleeding on the ground he learned an important lesson in life... He wasn't a fighter, he was a lover. I don't know if it was to save me from more public humiliation but it's worked out pretty nice for me so far and I haven't had to bleed to learn anymore valuable lessons.

Life has been good to me even though I grew up playing with my sisters barbies. It's a huge surprise to me that my parents never questioned my sexuality growing up but luckily I turned out alright. I was just "special." Maybe they didn't want to make things worse knowing that I couldn't pronounce my "R's" till the second gwade. Staying after school for speech therapy classes with the other "special kids" was hard enough for me (I'm just glad I wasn't the kid drooling all over his shirt). Questioning my sexuality would only put me over the edge.

I love my family! They were awesome growing up with and even moved in my behalf because I wasn't running around with the "right crowd." The move was hard because it was right in the middle of that awkward stage in middle school. Ya know, the one where your head is way too small for your body, people can't distinguish your nose from a zit and you had Ritz crackers permanently lodged up in your braces. But when high school rolled around I made friendships of an eternal nature. The guys I met have been the best examples to me and we've had one too many "good times" to count. I owe the happiness in my life to my friends and family because I have come to know that happiness is based on every decision we make and surrounding yourself by good people is one very important step in the pursuit of happiness.