Although I had forgiven Dan the Ugg Man about his unprovoked attack on my footwear, little did I know that he wouldn’t stop just at my shoes but rather strike me at my inner character.

Dan came back over Christmas break, and we made plans to see each other again. While driving back from dinner, we ended up talking about an ex-girlfriend of his who is now married, and who I remember to be a quite stunning girl.

“You broke up with her? Gosh Dan, she was beautiful.”

“Well it’s not all about looks, Jenny. If marriage was based on looks, you would have been married a long time ago.”

And just like hearing the “oh-no-you’re-wearing-Uggs” line all over again, I was stopped dead in my tracks and struck dumb. Dan tried to backpedal, “waaait…that didn’t sound right” but in an effort to avoid any more of this awkward moment (and fearing to find out what he really meant), I ignored the comment and quickly changed the subject. We didn’t acknowledge it for the rest of the night.

But the comment continued to puzzle me the next day as I tried to decipher its meaning. It sounded like a compliment, a backasswards compliment if nothing else, but I think he said I am pretty. But the rest of the comment, however, implied that because I am pretty and not married, then there must be something wrong with my personality! So was it really a compliment? Is my personality the reason I’m not married? Do I need to make myself ugly in order to develop a decent enough personality to merit the heart of a man?

I wanted answers. So when Dan and I made plans to hang out one last time before he went home, I decided to call him on it and have him explain.

“So Dan, last time we hung out you said…” and he stopped me before I could finish another word.

“Oh great, I hoped you hadn’t caught that.” He then explained that he should have finished his thought, but because I changed the subject, he thought (and hoped) I might have missed it and went along with the new direction of the conversation.

“What I really meant was that the reason you didn’t get married early is because you chose not to. You decided marriage wasn’t a number one priority and did other things. You made skiing a priority. ”

And Dan was right. He knew me back in college when I was hiding from the youth-killing suction of BYU culture in the snow-covered Wasatch mountains (where I continue to find refuge).

I’m sad that I don’t know when I’ll see Dan again (he lives far far away)—and not just because he provides me with great blog material, but I truly enjoy his company, his justification for watching Seth Rogen movies, and his many unfinished thoughts.

**So if you’re dating Jenny, please note you have the right to remain silent, for anything you say can and will be used against you in a blog of Jenny’s.

I gave up on New Year’s Eve about 3 years ago. It’s not that I despise the idea of new beginnings, a fresh start, a brighter future. I despise that moment—the strike of midnight—when the world is celebrating the future together.

For seven years I’ve chased that moment when I would have a wonderful New Year’s kiss at the stroke of midnight. I’ve driven to California and Las Vegas for a fabulous New Year’s parties, only to be left with an unclimatic night and $200 fewer dollars in my bank account.

My efforts to create a “night to remember” were in vain, for they always left with a “night not to remember.” So when I finally realized this reality that New Year’s Eve will never be on a dance floor with a guy confessing his undying love for me, I’ve ignored the holiday.

I don’t know if I should blame the ex-boyfriends who take family vacations over New Year’s, or the weird guys at Ciseros with their alcoholic breath, or even that damn When Harry Met Sally movie that has made every real-life New Year’s Eve moment not good enough, but I want to blame something.

Tonight I am going out, and I need to finish writing so I can go get ready. But I’m not so much expecting a night out of When Harry Met Sally but rather Happy New Year, Charlie Brown. For Charlie Brown always had disappointing holidays, but it never stopped him from trying to celebrate.

But I should enjoy this night for what it’s worth. Valentine’s Day is only 6 weeks away.

**So if you want to have a New Year’s Eve moment with Jenny, she’ll be at some fancy party in Pinebrook…probably at the food table.

A Russian lady invited me to a drinking party last night. At least that’s what I think she did. Her accent was so thick that I really only understood 50% of her words. I met Litka at a party at the small gym I go to. I was just standing alone in the corner eating a brownie (just how I like to eat my brownies), when I noticed a tall, pretty, eccentrically dressed lady looking at me. I gave her a smile and she waved for me to come over, which I did.

After an introduction and few minutes of understanding half of our conversation, I realized her true intentions for wanting to talk to me—to introduce me to her friend. She then waved a man who looked to be in his mid- to late-thirties over and said to him,“you should take her out.”Or at least that’s what I think she said.

I ended up talking to the guy for awhile that night. He was a thirtysomething guy who was living between NYC and South Beach but was dragged to Utah a couple years ago for “work.” He looked east coast with a sweater turtleneck, long wool coat, and fancy shoes.

We were laughing about “ear muffs” (think Vince Vaughn in Old School) and that’s-what-she-said jokes and he started putting the flirt on when he asked me where I went to school. It was obvious he had his hangups about Utah and Mormons (and I never told him I was one of them), and I laughed knowing he wouldn’t like my answer. “Do you really want to know?” I said. He looked at me inquisitively but asked again, “Where did you go to school?” to which I replied, “BYU.”

The juke box stopped. His face froze in a look of horror as if I just told him his dog died. I couldn’t believe how upset he was, so I asked if he was okay.

He said, “Well, what happened? “

“What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you Mormon now?”

“I am still Mormon. I’m still active.”

That answer didn’t make it any better as I saw his dreams of good wine and sex fade from his face. He was so upset that he said he needed a cigarette.

I laughed. “You need a what?”

“I need a smoke,” he said and excused himself outside.

I laughed again and told him he didn’t need to get so worked up about it. It was just my personal faith, and it shouldn’t need to trigger his nicotine fix.

We continued to talk outside for a bit. As he stood downwind from me, he kept saying, “it’s not me. I don’t care if a girl is Mormon.” Ha! You really think so? You seem pretty bothered by it right now.

At the end of the night, we didn’t exchange info, although Litka said he will be at the Russian drinking party. I don’t know if I’ll go. I don’t want to set another guy off on a drinking binge just because he found out I’m Mormon.

**So if you want to date or hang with Jenny, please understand she doesn’t like her personal belief causing guys to turn to addictive substances. She just likes to laugh and have a good time. (A good time in the Mormon sense of a good time, which you may be surprised to learn is still a pretty good time. At least with Jenny.)

I’ve never really had to do much to get a job before…most likely because 1) I’ve never really had to HAVE a job (I’ll go into this more for my next post) and 2) I’ve just been plain lucky. But the last 2 months of this latest job hunt have been pretty rough.

I have become very good at taking rejection. I’ve heard everything from “we’ll be in touch” to “we’re pursuing other applicants” to “due to budget cuts we’ve decided not to hire for the position” and finally “the pay is $10/hour” (That price as a form of rejection).

They say job hunting is a lot like dating—it’s a numbers game. The more jobs you apply for, or the more guys you date, the better your chances are of finding what you want. But you also find rejection. Below are some of my past rejections that I can remember.

• “I don’t want to date anyone before my mission.” (He wasn’t leaving for another 18 months.)
• I think you should serve a mission.” (Still can’t believe he tried using the church as a way out of the relationship.)
• “I love you but I’m not in love with you.” (Please note that this was not a response to I saying ‘I love you’ to him.)
• “Don’t expect anything serious from me.” (See post Textual Difficulties)
• “So I like this girl….” (You are now entering the Friend Zone.)

And then there are the nonverbal rejections such as unreturned phone calls or emails or pretentious flirting with someone else. And last week I was actually stood up—I think—for the first time. A guy asked me to see a movie, and we agreed on a time and place—but he never called. The day went by, and the next, and I never heard anything.

But here’s what I’ve learned from this: I really don’t want these guys—or jobs.

How many times does a girl say to herself after a relationship is over, “I’m so glad he dumped me!” or “What was I thinking?”

The problem is we women have this estrogen-driven need to be loyal. We may want to have a better situation or date someone else, but our emotional wiring makes us cling to the status quo. It’s not until someone lets us go and we can see outside the relationship that we realize how miserable we actually were. Once an old boyfriend called me up and I even verbally thanked a guy for breaking up with me.

So I have a confession to make. About a half hour before the meeting when twelve of us got pulled aside and were told that the company would rather let us go rather than making smarter decisions about spending money (kind of like a girl taking the easy route by throwing up rather than working hard at the gym), I printed a posting for another job someone sent me. I’d been thinking about finding something new. The environment was getting rough, but I wasn’t really doing anything to get myself out of it. Thankfully, they did it for me.

So these rejections, they’re awesome. I welcome them. I thank them. They’ve done me a favor.

Dang it. I might have to go back to school to find a job and a husband.

**So if you’re on a date with Jenny you don’t have to worry about her throwing up the meal you just paid for. She tried to once, many years ago, and it didn’t work. She’s succumbed to going to the gym.

In my last post I discussed (and readers subsequently commented) about the necessary gear you need to survive EOTW. But EOTW may not actually be a worldwide event; it may just be a moment when you find yourself stranded in the wilderness, or the moment you realize all your friends a married and you’re not. I recently read a book called Deep Survival, by Lawrence Gonzalez, which discusses the science of survival. Namely, the reasons why some people survive in certain situations and why others just lay down and die. The book leads you to ask yourself, am I a survivor? The following list is the author’s summary of the essential characteristics of a survivor (along with my own thoughts about how to survive singledom):

1. Perceive, believe. Even in the initial crisis, survivors’ perceptions and cognitive functions keep working. Look and see your surroundings. So when you first realize “OMG, I’m going to be single forever!” look at all your surroundings. Is Prince Charming the guy you’ve known since the 5th grade?

2. Stay calm. Use humor and fear to focus. Survivors are making use of fear, not being ruled by it. Remember, life can be funny single (hence the blog). Let singledom be a life builder for your identity, not a life destroyer.

3. Think/analyze/plan…and take correct, decisive action. Survivors quickly organize, set up small, manageable tasks and routines, and institute discipline, and are bold and cautious while carrying out tasks. Assess your social calendar. Call some friends. Make some plans. Blow dry your hair so you feel pretty. Introduce yourself.

4. Celebrate your successes. Survivors take great joy from even their smallest successes. Ah, he smiled at me; he got my number; he called! You got it, girl! This gives you the confidence and momentum to know that

5. Count your blessings. Be grateful you’re alive—this attitude is how survivors become rescuers instead of victims. Live happy whether you are single or not. If you aren’t happy single, you won’t be happy married. (And remember all the unhappy people in bad marriages.)

6. Play. Since the brain and its wiring appear to be the determining factor in survival, this is an argument for expanding and refining it. Sing, play mind games, recite poetry, count anything, do mathematical problems in your head. The best thing to survive singledom is to be doing fun stuff. Learn how to fly fish, play the piano, field strip a gun etc, etc.

7. See the beauty. Survivors are attuned to the wonders of the world. They marvel at their surroundings. There are so many beautiful, beautiful men in the world. Enjoy them—even if it’s just Christian Bale in a bat suit. It keeps your libido fire alive.

8. Surrender. Survivors manage pain well. They let go of their fear of dying. Hey, if I’m alone, I’m alone. Life is better single than being married to the wrong person.

9. Do whatever is necessary. Survivors have meta-knowledge: They know their abilities and do not over- or underestimate them. Unless you’re Charlize Theron, don’t only go for the guys who make millions and models for Calvin Klein. Same for you guys. Basically, have the expectation that you’ll get what you put on the table.

10. Never give up—let nothing break your spirit. There is always one more thing that you can do. Survivors are not easily frustrated. Never, never, NEVER settle. And remember, guys aren’t attracted to girls who are bitter about their situation.

Well, that’s it. That’s how you can survive in the dead of wilderness or the wild world of singledom. Ultimately, it comes down to not letting emotion take over reason. Don’t let your insatiable desire to get back to civilization (or get married) make you act all crazy. Instead, let that emotion drive reason—move you forward in smart, thoughtful ways. Know that you can survive on your own, and you won’t even see it coming when you’re finally rescued.

The comment from Some Dude on my last post (let’s call him Adam) is the perfect segway into the next post I was planning to write. Adam wrote that he knows more about color compliments than I do, which to me, is kind of weird. I don’t like it when guys know more about fashion than I do.

I feel this way for a couple of reasons:
1) Guys are supposed to be guys—they should like sports, war movies, and fast food. They shouldn’t be worried about what brand of jeans they are wearing.
2) It takes away attention on me being considered the pretty one.

I think it’s kind of endearing when a guy dresses like a dork. It’s like the beautiful actress in the ugly duckling teen movies who grows out her eyebrows and wears glasses and we’re supposed to think she is ugly. But as soon as you pluck the brows, take off the glasses, and throw on some lipgloss, she magically transforms into the hottest girl in school. That’s what I want—but instead of a beautiful actress a cute guy that wears white athletic socks with a suit.

There are some girls that LOVE guys with style. Nothing gets them going like a guy in a great suit. But if the guy is already a good dresser, you never have the chance to help him and use such lines as “well, you sure clean up nice.”

But make sure you feel it out first before you give him a makeover. Some guys would want you to leave them alone. But if he’s secure enough, and has a sense of humor, he’ll be a good sport about it.

And they are only two things you really need to fix: jeans and footwear. Cute guys look good in just t-shirts and jeans. The t-shirts they can handle. You just step in and help them with the jeans. Make sure they aren’t tapered and don’t stop at their ankle. Regarding footwear, teach them to match their socks and shoes and that sandals should be worn only with bare feet.

Now it’s not to say that I’m writing off all guys who wear designer jeans. I’ve dated guys in the past who were into style. They actually liked to go shopping. With one in particular, I saw this black-and-white photo of him in his room. He was wearing a black turtleneck, and his gaze was staring off into the distance. It was suppose to be serious, but in fact I found it quite pathetic. I remember complimenting him more on his looks than he complimenting me.

**So when dating Jenny, be a good sport. She means no harm. She’ll even let you teach her how to fix a fan belt or fly fish—if you want.

Having all these free time being unemployed, I have a good dosing of surfing the Internet everyday. One day searching for ways to make myself more attractive to the opposite sex, I read that orange makeup is the best color for blue eyes. I thought “orange??…eck.” But I learned that orange is on the opposite side of blue on the color wheel, which means it contrasts the most with blue—making it really pop out.

So during a little shopping adventure in downtown San Francisco last weekend, I saw a Sephora store and thought to try this color theory out. Sephora is like a candy store for the face. With all its colors and flavors, you want to sample everything. But beware—this is unsupervised sampling. I realized this while I was trying on a “Pumpkin” eyeshadow when I noticed a homeless person next to my right spraying himself with the perfume samples. Then I noticed on my left a transvestite sampling a tube of red lipstick (gotta love San Fran). I was following hygienically best practices using a q-tip and cotton ball, so when I looked down at the q-tip covered with orange eyeshadow in my hand, I thought “oh gross.” I wanted to walk out of there but was kind of trapped, and I was afraid of either being mugged or bitchslapped if I rudely rushed by. So I waited and pondered about sampling.

An advantage of still being single is that I can still sample. Married people have made their purchase—but I’m still in the buying process. Sometimes it’s still fun to sample without ever having any intention to buy. I sometimes purposely walk into a cookie shop and ask for a sample. As I slowly chew my free treat, I try to look like I’m intently thinking about what to buy, only to sneak away when the cookie lady got tired of waiting for my order or became distracted with a real customer. Sometimes I’m “thinking” for a long time and have to ask for additional samples until I have an exit. (These are not my proudest moments.) It’s similarly hard to sneak away when sampling a guy. Saying, “thanks, but no thanks” can be awkward. It’s easier to either wait for the guy to get distracted with another girl or finally give up waiting for you to “decide” your schedule. Regardless how you exit, I always thank him for the sample.

Back at Sephora, the man/woman finally said something like this color was hideous and strutted off. I decided I was done sampling, grabbed my Pumpkin eyeshadow, and shuffled off to the register.

**So if you’re dating Jenny, you may just be a sample. But who knows? You might just be the orange eyeshadow she wasn’t expecting to compliment her—but did.

Okay, soo I had my date. It was nothing special—just a quick lunch. This guy is actually really nice, and I really didn’t want to offend him, but I was determine to plant some “seeds of iniquity” so he’d see I wasn’t the girl for him.

I had no desire for a soft drink, but I ordered a Dr. Pepper anyway. Not that caffeine is that big of a deal, but I thought it was a good warm up.

Okay…I have to get across that I sometimes watch rated R movies, I’m voting for Obama, and I laugh with gay comedians.

So, my first topic of conversation:

“Thanks for being flexible with changing the times all around…” (I had to reschedule from dinner to lunch because I got last-minute tickets to meet the NPR commentator Juan Williams—nerdy I know.)
“I was planning to go see the movie Appaloosa this afternoon. Have you seen it?”
“No, I haven’t heard of it.”
“Ah, it looks like one of those old-time, bad-guy-verses-good-guy westerns. Did you ever see 3:10 to Yuma?”
“No.”
“Oh, it’s like that.”
“I don’t really watch movies.”

Is he against all movies in general? Hmmm…change of topic. Let’s drop the Democrat bomb:

“So I got tickets to meet Juan Williams tonight. He’s a NPR commentator who I’ve seen on all the news networks.”
“Don’t know him” (That’s okay. Only my dad knew who he was.)
“I really like him.”
“So you’re into politics.”
“Not usually, but I think this election has been very interesting. I haven’t decided who I am going to vote for, but I’m leaning towards Obama.”

I couldn’t really tell his reaction from this one. Actually, I couldn’t really tell his reaction from anything I said. Let’s try another.

“So this weekend I’m going to San Francisco. I’m going to see David Sedaris with my sister-in-law. Have you heard of him?”
“No.”
“I’m not sure what he is. He’s a comedian and a writer. He has a few books out that are pretty funny. I just bought one called Naked. He’s gay but it doesn’t dominate his humor—but who know’s if he lets loose in San Fran!”

He nods his head and looks down. I take that as a sign of judgment. Yes!

As for swearing? It crossed my mind, but I was too chicken to say something like “damn” or “ass” in front of him. I was making him uncomfortable enough as it is.

Okay, it was kind of a weak (and stupid) experiment. But my whole point of it was to prove that I fell from a different tree, and I shouldn’t be critized for not being interested. I thanked him sincerely for lunch, and we went our ways. I hope he doesn’t call, for then I would have to do the mature thing and actually tell him how I feel.

**So if you’re on a date with Jenny, and you feel the same way she does, show her your worst—you Sabbath-day-football-watching sinner you.

I feel a little bad about my last post. I really hope this guy doesn’t google my name and find it. Anyhoo, after reading my cousin’s comment on my last post (Hi Kelly!), I want to continue to discuss this topic of “pickiness.” So, let’s dive into this a little deeper and talk about The List.

The List refers to the list of attributes or traits a girl wants to find in a man, and I’ve broken it down into 3 different tiers.

• Must-Haves: The no-exceptions rules. These include religion, family aspirations, morals, some personality traits, etc.

• Nice-to_Haves: Things that are desirable in a mate but not deal breakers. These include common interests, family background, physical features, job, money habits, etc.

• Definitely-Nots: things that make you say “I would rather die a horrible death than marry that guy.” These include mental illnesses, addictions, really bad personality traits, etc.

The List is derived from experiences from previous relationships. For example, I seriously dated a guy who suffered from clinical depression, and it was horrible. So one of my Definitely-Nots is depression. Sorry, I just don’t think I can deal with it. Or let’s consider my best friend. Her List states the guy has to be a professional. She is a professional herself (a lawyer), and it’s just been a problem for her in the past dating guys who are insecure and intimidated by her success.

Granted, some items on The List are superficial like  “6’ is my minimum” or “he has to save the world from terrorists.” This is often a result of watching too many romantic movies. But The List changes over time as you live and learn what really matters and what doesn’t. Now I want someone who “holds my hair back when I’m puking” or “isn’t in a bad mood all the time.”

So when you say we’re “picky,” it’s because we know ourselves. We know what makes us happy and what doesn’t. The other day I asked my dad, “What would you think if I married a humble sports coach who made only $40,000 a year,” to which he replied, “it all depends on the guy.” Yup, it’s about the guy. He’s when everything you thought you cared about goes right out the window.

**So if you want to date Jenny, you have to be 6’ tall, 185 lbs, thick hair and beautiful blue eyes, and your second toe can’t be longer than the first. You must either be a doctor or a lawyer who won a NCAA title in tennis in college and started a non-profit organization helping women start small businesses in Africa. You also have to bake a killer chocolate cake (but not vanilla), speak French and Chinese, and play Stairway to Heaven upside down with your eyes closed.

Just kidding!

A couple weeks ago I had a lunch date with some guy who also worked downtown—as an accountant. This is significant because an accountant is the one profession I just can’t…well…date. It’s a horrible prejudice, I know, but I just can’t listen to someone talk about their day if it involves accounts payable, ledgers, or accrued expenses.

Maybe I’m being unfair to accountants. They do have one thing going for them—employment. So what if they sold out in life choosing a profession with absolutely no personal satisfaction. They are doing an honest day’s work to pay the bills, right? And maybe I really don’t have the right to say anything at all considering the fact I lost my job last week. It is during these hard economic times that the accountants are keeping their jobs and over half of the marketing departments are getting cut loose.

Wait…hold on one minute. I just realized something. Maybe there is more to this. Maybe the accountants are the conspirators behind this whole recession and subsequent job lay-offs. I mean…they walk around a lot more miserable at work than us creative, fun marketing people. Perhaps out of their ugly jealousy they are getting back at those of us who like our jobs by taking them away. Think about it. They control the numbers that determine the decisions such as lay offs! They are conspiring against anyone who is happy– and they are starting with marketing.

Ultimately, I don’t care what a guy does as long as 1) he loves it and 2) it’s not accounting. Yes, there are some accountants who do get a sick thrill out of balancing debits and credits, but that makes me even more suspicious.

**So if you date Jenny, please be a schoolteacher, circus owner, dog trainer, helicopter pilot, soccer coach, or anything else. Just don’t be an accountant (or work at Abercrombie and Fitch).