Perfect Enough

*(Note: this post refers to an events that actually happened. I have taken care not to mention names.)

When I was still new to the world, I remember having a conversation with God.

It came after my mother had said something about the boys I went to church with being my potential future-husband. It really didn't sit well with me because these guys were unkind to me and I didn't like them very much. 

I had thought long and hard, even at a young age, (because that's what you do when you're a young female mormon) about the kind of man I would marry. And I decided he would have to be different from any boy I had ever yet met.

Then I prayed.

My prayer went like this: “God, these guys really aren't nice to me. I don't like them. And I just want you to know that I'm not going to get married unless it's real and we're in love and he's a really really good guy who's meant for me.”

I remember feeling at peace about the whole situation and I felt like it was God telling me, “That's a good idea! Don't worry, I got it all figured out.”

It kind of came as a shock to me. (“I guess God doesn't want me to marry someone I don't love either.”)

Growing up in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are taught about the importance of marriage and family bonds. The common consensus is that if you are “good enough” of a saint, you will be able to marry any other saint who is “good enough” because your relationship will be God-centered. I have heard sentiments such as this reflected in many different situations throughout my church activity.

The idea is that if you love God, you will be able to love everybody...and if you love everybody...you will be able to marry anybody.

I understand where this idea comes from; it's a perversion of church doctrine, with just enough truth in it to fool most church members into accepting at face value.

For years, I believed that if I simply was a “good enough” person I would “fall-in-love-and-get-married” and everything would work out. Then one day, God gave me a better understanding of the humanity.

It happened at a Relief Society Meeting (Which is comprised entirely of women) on a Sunday afternoon.

The teacher was a girl about my age, maybe a few years younger. She was talking about her own difficulties in dating.

She shared some wisdom her father had told her, to illustrate about how conduct influences our perception of a person.

She related what her father had told her about what had attracted him to her mother.

• “Honestly, If I had seen your mother holding a Coke, I probably wouldn't have been interested.”

This was a huge eye-opener. I truly started to worry, because...

Because...

I drink Dr. Pepper.

If a “good enough” Mormon boy won't consider a girl who drinks Coke, what is going to entice him into an amiable and potentially romantic relationship with a Dr. Pepper drinker?

I mean, doesn't the very act of holding a can of a caffeine containing beverage scream “BAD MOTHER, BAD WIFE, BAD ETERNAL COMPANION. DON'T LOOK AT HER, DON'T LOKATHER, DDOOONN'T LOKAAT HER!!!!!!

RRHHHUUUUUUUNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” ??????

Then, I started thinking more about my life...and the other things that would make me a bad wife and mother in the eyes of“good enough” Mormon boys:

• What if they find out I want to keep my last name when I marry?

• What if they find out that I want my daughters to inherit their mother's last name?

• What if they find out that when I find a song I like, I listen to the same song, again, and again...until everyone around me is sick of it...and I still like it?

• What if they find out that I want my hypothetical children to be home-schooled also?

• What if they find out that I swear more often then I should?

• What if they find out I like Linkin Park?

• What if, someday, they found out that I actually want to travel to places I've never been before and meet people who are different then me?

• What if they found out that I want my hypothetical husband and hypothetical children to have that experience as well?

• What if they found out about my years of reading and writing crummy fan-fiction?

• What if they find out I played W.o.W?

• What if they found out I believe in Karma?

• What if they found out that I touch people's genitals almost every day work and don't get aroused by it at all?

• What if they find out about a thousand other little things about me and realize that I LIKE myself because of these things?

One thing is for sure, Hypothetical Husband “probably wouldn't be interested” in me if I'm not perfect.

I “probably wouldn't be interested” in a guy like that either!

So, you see, I'm facing a bit of a paradox: I'm not perfect enough to get married to the kind of guy I want to get married to. And even if I was, I probably wouldn't want to marry him.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but I'm glad I know now. I feel wiser. And ready for the rest of my life if celibacy.

Truthfully, I still believe that everything will “Work out”. But for some of us, that won't mean marriage.

I may never have a romance, but I'm blessed with love in my life. I may never have a marriage, but I am blessed with a family. I may never get pregnant or bear children, but I do have children in my life (Special thanks to some of those nine siblings I mentioned earlier;-)). I am blessed to be able to live some of the dreams that God had planted in my heart to perform.

And that's (good) enough. :)

Walking and Writing

Last month I tried to train for a mini-marathon I'm doing a few months from now. Unfortunately Flower the Dog who follows me whenever I go walking or jogging almost got her head ripped off by a group of dogs as a result.

Stupid effing dog! I didn't do a lot of working out after that. I'll have to find a different way to do that...

This month I want do something for writing. Not a lot of writing...maybe just 31 500 word stories...one for each day. I've been thinking about it and I think it's something that will help me do better at writing.

Here is my first little ficlet:

 Dro dropped me off at the hotel told me to wait, he told me he'd be there soon. Liar.

I gave our names at the door and caught the blue eye of a freckle-faced young woman, her face promptly flushed with red and turned away from me. In my own ignorant way, I attributed this to local norms, perhaps they have an aversion to eye contact. It could have been so, I don't know, I'd never been to The Isles before.

I was still wearing the jumpsuit with the logo on it, it surprised me that they even let me in without asking for identification. This should have tipped me off, but I was younger then and I can definitely say this experience taught me a few things.

The staff welcomed in to a “suite” which is kind of like a really nice house that was stacked on top of other houses. It was the most beautiful room I'd ever seen; clean and white, with a fireplace and a balcony with a view of the ocean.

It is also funny, though now in an entirely non-humorous way, I didn't feel tether anymore. No longer did I feel it eating at my back, I thought I was free.

I took of my jacket and noticed something different. It felt different. I removed the upper-half of my jumpsuit and immediately realized why Dro needed to get me new clothes.

Somehow great cuts of meat had attached themselves to my skeleton leaving great ripples on my arms, chest, back, stomach...everywhere. That wasn't the only change, my skin was two shades lighter. My eyes an even shade of brown. I blinked and touched my arm where the bulbus pocket of flesh was. It didn't hurt, but it didn't feel like it was a part of me either. He said I would like it, but I didn't I liked being a tall teenager with extra long limbs, large hands, uneven skin tone. That was a normal body. This body was a freak.

“You.” I said waving a finger at my reflection, as if glare back guiltily. “I hate you.”

My mind started racing, I started doing some ritualistic activity, the type of thing I always used to do at home when situations seemed out of my control. Dro's clothing was organized by color (which was had because almost all of his clothing is brown or gray). My jump-suits were folded neatly, the room was immaculately clean. The only thing dirty was my skin which I realized would probably look even more pale when the layers of dirt were removed.

Dro had some explaining to do when he got back.

It wasn't until I was in the shower that I realized he wasn't coming. It wasn't long after that, that I stopped thinking.

Looking back, I realize I should have thought a little more. I should have wondered why he'd sent me in alone, I shouldn't have assumed he was just parking the car. It should have crossed my mind that he could have sent me in to hurt someone, it was the first time I'd simply done as he told me. My first mistake.

I could feel his thoughts of things so alien I can't explain as we walked down a long hallway and knocked on a door.