My Boyfriend is Hot



Right?

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On Dreaming Big

Lately I’ve been feeling a little bit like any “dreams” I have are on hold. I’ve never considered myself much of a dreamer anyway. I guess I have always been satisfied with the notion of a steady, emotionally fulfilling life: a husband, kids, a dog, vacations. I don’t need the big mansion on the beach, and it definitely wouldn’t be as fun to live in it alone. So while I never thought I was “one of those BYU girls” who came to school specifically to get married and have babies, I guess in actuality, that really was all I’ve wanted my entire life. I got engaged at 21, and went on and off with him for another 5-7 months after we broke it off. Then I had a long stint of learning how to be happy just doing the things I enjoy doing. And I feel I’ve done a really good job of that. I’ve worked and supported myself and traveled and challenged myself, all without a husband. Another long relationship followed when I was 26 all the way up until age 31.5. We broke off the engagement whe...
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Going Private Out of Necessity

Part 1: Well, a student found my blog. I'm not sure what the heck is up with these stalker children, but I am tired of it. I'm tired of the Facebook and MySpace friend requests. I'm tired of them looking through the little that I have public so that they can do detective work on my love life. What in the world? Since when did kids care that much about their teachers' lives? Today in sixth period, they started trying to get me to talk. "What's your favorite song?" "I have a lot of favorite songs." "Well then who's your favorite band?" And then somewhat randomly, my stalker student goes, "Do you like Josh-Joshua-Rad-Radin, or whatever?" And I'm a Slowy Slowerton so I didn't catch on. I said that I love Joshua Radin and have seen him twice and have a picture with him. So yes I love him. Then after class, said stalker told me he and his friend found my blog, and the blog of my ex. What in the world?! No wonder ...
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Old Man Strategery!

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Sometimes, I’m kind of a moron. I mean, pretty frequently, actually. I’m about to disclose an experience that I had on Saturday when I arrived at the post office to mail my school pictures to my madre. Don’t leave a comment telling me I’m stupid. I already know. Here it goes. I pulled into the stall next to the handicapped spot. I got out and started walking in with my stuff to mail. In the handi spot, an old man in a Buick was sitting in his passenger seat with the window down. It looked like he was maybe waiting for his wife who was inside the post office (strategery #1). He was really old, as in like 80 years old (strategery #2). He stopped me. He seemed harmless and sweet enough, and my mom taught me to be nice and respectful, so I was. I stopped and talked to him. He started with, “I bet your husband’s handsome!” (strategery #3) I responded, “I don’t have a husband.” He looked at me in shock. He then asked how old I am. I told him I am twenty-two. He said, “Well maybe you’ll find...
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