From an old blog post of July 23, 2013, followed by some edits shortly thereafter. At the time I thought it was awesome and shared it with a few of my friends, which was the first real attempt to actually publicize my old blog. Now I think it's stupid and I'd just as soon forget I ever wrote it, but it got four "likes" on my old blog, so maybe it's awesome after all and that's why I'm putting it here so you can decide for yourself. It was one of the writing samples that got me a job at the Utah Statesman, so it was good for something.

My Longest, and Therefore Best, Blog Post Ever
​By C. Randall Nicholson

NOTE: It has been brought to my attention that this post can be misinterpreted as an attempt to be depressing and seek pity. It is supposed to be neither, but I can see how some people might think that owing to differing senses of humor and the difficulty in conveying the context of thoughts and intentions through raw text. Also, I'm an aspiring author so I may have been overdramatic in my choices of words (though all incidents and quotes are reported without exaggeration). Here's a guideline: if I say something potentially depressing, imagine me smirking and rolling my eyes, not crying in a corner and saying "Pity me."  If you still don't like it, I'm sorry. I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post, already in progress.

I was so excited to write this that I had five hours of insomnia; three more than usual. Don't say I never make sacrifices for you, dear readers. All zero of you are very dear to my heart.

Once upon a time, circa last Thanksgiving, I was at my grandmother's house in the rural community of Ammon, Idaho. It was getting late and I was in the living room reading a book when her next-door neighbor came over to bring us some treats. Her next-door neighbor was a gorgeous young lady with an amazing body - and I mention that not to be chauvinistic but because it was all the more amazing for having produced three kids, all of whom were also in attendance. I always feel awkward about being infatuated with married women, not only because I don't want to commit adultery in my heart, but because I'm socially retarded enough that I might accidentally flirt with them or something, and that would be bad. On top of that, I didn't have anything to say. 

So I just sat silently nearby while her kids played and she conversed with my grandmother. After about two minutes, she unexpectedly turned to me and said, "You know you have to talk to get a girlfriend, right?"

What I should have said: "Yeah. Good thing I'm not interested in girls."

What I actually said: "How do you know? I could date a mime."

Not nearly as witty, alas, but I was under pressure. It did the trick anyway. She laughed and said, "At least you have a sense of humor. That's good."

Some people might have been mortified by a complete stranger discerning their personality and relationship status after two minutes. Some people might have been outraged by her rudeness. But not me. My initial reaction was stupefied amazement at her sheer audacity, soon followed by gratitude and admiration for her blunt honesty. Blunt honesty is a lost art. I get so tired of reassuring, optimistic nonsense - "Maybe she likes you just the way you are", or "The worst she can do is say no", or "Don't be silly, of course she isn't mad at you. Here, I'll talk to her... Wow. Okay, maybe she is mad at you... Wow. What did you do?"

More recently, I was in Elders' Quorum, where my ward is combined with another ward for the summer due to the sudden paucity of college students. I don't remember why, but the other ward's bishop said "I think that at this time in your lives, dating should be almost as high a priority as education."

Some smart-aleck (the other ward's Elders' Quorum president) said, "Please expound on that, Bishop. Right now I spend several hours a night on homework. How would that sort of prioritizing carry over into dating? Should I be spending that many hours a night on dating websites?"

The bishop responded, "I think you should try to be going on at least one date a week, or at least putting yourself in a position where you're working toward that concept."

In the silence that followed, I stood up and recited a haiku: 

"No no no no no
No no no no no no no
No no no no no"

Okay, I didn't actually do that, but I was thinking it. Sometimes in life it's the things you don't say.

There are about a bajillion reasons why I avoid dating. I think I've expounded on them elsewhere, and there's no need to rehash them here because first of all, that would make this blog post as long as a novella, and second of all people would accuse me of fishing for compliments. But there is one reason that's been coming to mind in particular, the more I think about it. That reason is this: it gives me control over my own circumstances. I'm single because I choose to be. If I tried to get a girlfriend and failed, then my circumstances would be the same but the control would no longer be mine. That, and I would be depressed. Selfish? Maybe.

Of course, I haven't been on a mission yet, so I'm not supposed to be getting too serious. That takes a lot of pressure off. But on the other hand, it's taking forever and a day to get my papers finished. (I just found out I might have to stay here for not one but two more semesters, which would mean that when I leave I'll be three years older than most of the other new male missionaries in the field. Silly me; when the doctor said I would have to wait "a couple months" between Hepatitis A shots, I kind of thought he actually meant "a couple months", not "six". Why do I need hepatitis shots anyway? Isn't that an STD or something?) I'm okay with that because God has told me via priesthood blessing that I will leave in His own due time and that I need to be patient and accept His will. But in the meantime, I don't think He expects me to put everything else in my life on hold. So maybe the dating obligation still applies to me to some extent.

Anyway, I have kind of a rebellious nature sometimes, and being told by church leaders that I need to date only makes me want to do it even less. And even when I'm interested in a girl, I'd usually just as soon stay home and read a book as take her out somewhere. They're equally fun and the former is less expensive. But on those rare occasions when I dare to allow myself to think that I might have half a chance, that the risk/payoff ratio has shifted to something slightly more favorable, I can be talked into it. This time, I talked myself into it, which was a first.

So I asked her to the upcoming YSA dance that I otherwise wouldn't care about, and also to dinner first, and assured her that she could still dance with whoever she wanted. She said, "Maybe. I might have to work. I'll let you know."

A few minutes later I realized, Wait a minute. She said "Maybe, I might have to work"; the implication of which is "Yes, unless I have to work". So she kind of said yes. And she was smiling the whole time, which probably means she doesn't not want to go. Cool.

Of course, that was just my best educated guess. The good news is that I understand women better than I understand my fellow men, but the bad news is that's not saying a lot. So, like an elementary school child, I've asked everybody and their dog for advice on dealing with women, in the hope that someday one of them will give me a Holy Grail of secret knowledge that will illuminate my mind and solve all my problems forever. No luck so far; but I'm getting closer, I can feel it.

Anyway, one of these people that I started relying on quite often for advice (after I was talking to a mutual friend for the first time in a week and she advised me to "give her some space") evidently doesn't know me well enough to realize when I'm really being socially retarded and when I'm just messing with her head. For example, she was teaching me how to give non-creepy compliments (after a guy she'd just met complimented her skirt and then put his arm around her), and to demonstrate my new skill I said as an example, "I like your face."

"No," she said, completely serious. "No, don't say that."

What I should have said: "First of all, I was plagiarizing the unofficial catchphrase of my EFY group 'Called Today'. Second of all, I'm not that dense; I realize full well that it's a creepy and awkward thing to say but that if I were more attractive and charismatic it would be clever and quirky and all the ladies would swoon."

What I actually said: "Well, I didn't want to single out a particular feature. If I just said 'I like your nose' or something, it would imply that your other features are inferior." A guy who was eavesdropping on us defended me on that point.

So anyway, it was the same day I'd asked that other girl to the dance, and there was a temple fireside at the church that evening and afterward there were cookies. I wanted another excuse to talk to her (the dance girl) so I considered bringing her a cookie, and I asked her (the advice girl) if that would be all right. She said "Sure, but it depends on what you say."

"Here's a cookie," I suggested.

"No, don't just say 'here's a cookie'. Get a few varieties, and just be like 'Hey, I thought maybe you'd like a cookie.'"

"It represents my love for you."

"No," she said, completely serious. "No, don't say that."

I was just kidding, obviously. But just in case, I nixed my idea to select a cookie with red frosting. So I grabbed a couple of different varieties, walked over to where she (the dance girl, who, for future convenience, I shall refer to as "Rita") was talking with another girl, and offered them to her. She shook her head, so I offered them to the other girl. She accepted one. Realizing that this wasn't as flawless a pretense for talking to her (Rita) as I'd hoped, I tried to explain, "They're going to be gone soon, if you don't go over there." Then there was an awkward silence and I asked them both, "Do you want me to leave now?"

The other girl laughed and suddenly seemed at ease. Rita averted her eyes as if to say, "I'm not with this guy."

So we were talking a bit - well, they were talking and I was listening - and then Rita got pulled away by some other guy who, as far as I'm aware, has a girlfriend and therefore shouldn't have been talking to her. The other girl kept talking to me and I wanted to say, "Just shut up for a minute! Can't you see I'm trying to eavesdrop on your friend here?" I know that makes me sound extremely rude. It's not that I wouldn't have been perfectly happy to get acquainted with her under other circumstances, but I have a one-track mind incapable of multitasking and I have to prioritize these things.

Rita rejoined us and decided we should wander over to some other people. I decided that would be a good opportunity to introduce her to my friend - let's call her "Candace" - who is super amazing. So I tapped Candace on the shoulder and sort of gestured to indicate the people that I wanted her to meet, and there was a bit more awkward silence until Rita and Candace really hit it off and got deep in conversation while the other girl kept talking to me. There wasn't so much pressure this time and I was able to actually enjoy talking to her. Then she left and I joined Candace and Rita, asking, "Can I invade your conversation? I'll just listen, mostly."

They glanced at each other and said, "Errr..." As I said, I don't understand women, but I interpreted that to mean "Yes."

Then this other guy - let's call him "José" - came along and joined us, and he and Candace and Rita did all the talking. Then Rita had to leave, and she looked from side to side and directed a wave and goodbye at each of them, but not me. I'm a little perplexed by that. I decided not to be paranoid and interpret it in a hurtful way, but I can only speculate wildly as to what her reasoning was, so I guess I just won't worry about it. Anyway, she walked off and Candace said to José, "You missed your chance!"

This just goes to show how irrational emotions can be, or at least how irrational my emotions can be. Candace didn't know about my stake in this, and wouldn't have been obligated to take my side even if she did, but I still felt as if she'd just kicked my legs out from under me and flipped me the bird. This rush of emotion hadn't quite subsided when I gestured after Rita and said, "She's mine. He can't have her. She's mine."

Obviously I was being facetious (is that the right word?) because I recognize that women aren't objects and have their own free wills etc., so the whole "finders keepers" concept doesn't really apply. But Candace, like the advice girl, seemed to take it seriously.  First and foremost, though I don't know much about human facial cues, she seemed positively stunned. She was probably thinking something like Can it be true? Has he finally gotten over me and moved on? My prayers have been answered! Or maybe she just thought I was a stuck-up possessive chauvinist. In any case she responded in total seriousness, "You need her consent for that."

"Details," I said. "I'll work out the details later." And that, I hope, established once and for all that I was being facetious. If that's the right word.

But José was also completely serious. He said to her, "No. I already knew he liked her. He told me about her yesterday. So he gets the first chance. That's the Bro Code."

I don't think I'm familiar with this "Bro Code". Is it the Mormon version of "Bros Before Hoes"?

"I'm not going to ask her out," he concluded.

I was touched by this generosity, and I wondered how much of a sacrifice it was on his part. "Do you want to?" I asked. There may have been a slightly accusatory tone in my voice; if so, it was uncalled for and I apologize. How can I blame a guy for being heterosexual?

"I'm not gonna lie," he said, shrugging and looking me straight in the eye. "I have to be honest. She's a very cute girl and I would love to ask her out. But you got to her first. That's the Bro Code. It's about respect."

I'm reminded of the time my Indian friend Ashwin told me he was going to marry my Indian friend Pooja. I said, "I'm kind of jealous." I meant it as a compliment - a weird compliment, I realize, but I'm a weird guy - and not a complaint. I'd gotten over my crush on Pooja and if I hadn't I would have kept it to myself. But Ashwin was all like "Naw man, I'm just lucky. If you'd have gotten to her first, she would have been all yours. But there's other lives, man - you can have her in the next one." With my luck she'll be reincarnated as a butterfly and I as a mosquito, but the sentiment was so genuine and it meant a lot to me.

José's gesture, likewise, means a lot to me and has raised my admiration for him exponentially. It's providential for at least a couple of reasons. First of all, it raises my chances of success with Rita from zero to a few hundredths of a percent. Second of all, and perhaps more importantly in the long term, it precludes any unwanted animosity between us. I really think jealousy is the ugliest of human emotions, and I feel humiliated whenever I experience it. It's one thing to feel negatively towards someone who's wronged you, but to feel negatively towards a perfectly nice guy who doesn't deserve it but just happens to like the same girl as you and to be wittier and more attractive than you - well, that's terrible, and I'm happy to avoid it whenever possible.

NOTE: It has been brought to my attention that girls don't like the Bro Code because they want whichever guy they like to be free to pursue them even if he wasn't first. Thanks for making me feel guilty for being grateful for an act of kindness. Anyway, I have this blasphemous idea that when a girl likes a guy she should pursue him herself. I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post, already in progress.

I don't know what I would have done if our situations were reversed. Bro Code or not, I think it would ultimately be irrelevant whether I stepped aside or tried to compete with him. But I view it from a different perspective than most people anyway. I view it, and most such dating-related issues, through the lens of natural selection. It's okay that other guys are wittier and more attractive than me. It's not their fault and it's not my fault and it's just the way life is, and if they get all the girls then that sucks but it's nothing personal on any level and there's no need to let it get to me too much. At the same time - and maybe this is where the Bro Code comes in - we are human beings, not chimpanzees, and must conduct ourselves according to a higher standard by not sabatoging the competition. Unless, of course, he deserves it - e.g., "Eva, it's probably none of my business, but as a friend I just think you should know that Adolf guy you're dating is a creep."

So I was very touched and humbled by this gesture. Candace was still incredulous, though. She turned to me and said, "You didn't even talk to her."

Evidently she hadn't understood me the first twenty times I explained that I don't converse well in group settings. I said, "You guys did all the talking because you're more talkative and assertive and stuff. You took my 'talking-space'." Understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes.

"Sorry," said José. "I'll stay quiet next time." He was still completely serious, and that made me feel guilty - I'd meant it as an explanation only, not a criticism. I don't expect naturally popular and outgoing people to handicap themselves just to give Mr. Socially Retarded a better chance; the government tries to do that sort of thing with capitalism, and look where it's gotten us. (Didn't think I could squeeze a political reference into an article about dating, did you? You don't know me very well.)

But of course, that's exactly what he's doing anyway by not going after "my" girl. And though I appreciate it, I got kind of depressed when I thought about it more. I'd seen about five different guys showing interest in Rita just that day, and I felt that the only way I'd have a chance with her or any other woman was if no "better" guys got involved. I have good qualities, and could maybe even get a woman interested in me until the third date when I tell her my innermost thoughts and feelings and she needs months of therapy just for having listened to them, but they only shine through in one-on-one situations. In public, other guys are more talkative and assertive and stuff, and take my "talking-space". I don't know how I can expect to be noticed under these conditions.

To make a long story short, I asked for a priesthood blessing from another friend in the ward. He came over to my place and when he heard the abridged version of my story he smiled. "Everyone feels like that sometimes," he said. "At least, I hope they do, because I do." And we talked for a while and he gave me lots of advice and I realized that this sort of insecurity is completely normal. I couldn't tell, because abnormal depression and self-esteem issues had plagued me for years and I assumed this was a part of them. But finding out that it's normal is enough to make me not care anymore. I could argue that I have more reason to feel insecure than those other people, but they would probably say the same, so whatever.

One thing I don't get - when guys smile and laugh and talk about how much dating sucks and how frustrating and heartbreaking it is. I'm glad they find that amusing, but for me it's a major turn-off. To each his own.

He gave me a blessing anyway, and it was amazing, largely because it was far more specific than usual. It brought tears to my eyes. The most peculiar part was a promise that I would find happiness in mortality. I wasn't even a little bit concerned about that, because I feel like I'm happy now. Or maybe "content" is a better word, but compared to my past depression that's paradise. But anyway, with a promise like that it really doesn't matter what happens to me from here on out. The blessing also listed several demographics of people I know, told me how they saw me, and said I should see myself in that light. It said I have the potential to be like Heavenly Father. It said I could be better, which was a well-deserved rebuke considering the language I'd used while talking to myself right before the guy showed up.

One interesting thing was a commandment to try to understand other people by putting myself into their minds, which seems an impossible task even for non-Aspies because you can never know for certain if your best guesses are correct. But I tried it. While I was praying that night I said, "Okay, so I'm Rita, and I'm going to tell You about myself. Let me know if the stuff I'm saying is correct." And I just rambled on about "myself" for five minutes and I think I got some useful insights. Occasionally I started going into certain topics and got a dark feeling as if God was saying "That's none of your business", so hopefully that means the rest was legit. I was also given a commandment to work on improving my social skills, I felt justified in asking God that night to arrange Rita's work schedule so that she can go to dinner and the dance with me.

For you see, that's where I'll have a chance to shine. Whether we fall in love and get married and have three beautiful daughters named Jessica, Nikita, and Australia (everyone will think we love Nikki the most just because we always sing to her "Oh Nikki you're so fine, you're so find you blow my mind", whereas Australia will just despise us for some reason), or she decides after the one date that she isn't interested, we'll get to know each other and I'll have a chance to be myself in a non-threatening context. Alone, not surrounded by loud people and time pressures that stress me out and make me awkward, I can show her my good qualities. 

Pretending to be something I'm not has never even occurred to me as a possibility, because I know it would be an unmitigated disaster ("Yeah, I bench press two hundred pounds, can't you tell?"), but people always warn me not to do it anyway. Why? Why do they assume when they look at me that I would want to be something else? How cruel. Look, even if I feel inferior to other men and undeserving of a woman, I'm still quite pleased with my own skill set and my accomplishments, and I don't care that other people in the world are more skilled and accomplished because their successes don't detract from mine. Maybe being what I am is okay, and maybe Rita will agree. Maybe there's nothing to be worried about.

Maybe I should ask for advice from the first girl I ever went on a date with, which was my second-to-last date ever. (For those of you keeping score, that would make this next one my third date ever - or fourth, if you count the lesbian, which I don't.) It might be awkward, but here's what I'd like to say: 

"Dear Nikki: 

I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are enjoying your new city and new job. I regret that I must resurrect an issue that had been put behind us several months ago, but I must inquire about it for my own well-being. First, please know that I have complete respect for your freedom of choice and for the decision that you chose to make. I am very grateful that, despite the initial awkwardness, we were able to remain good friends. In particular I appreciate you allowing me to compliment your Facebook photographs, without thinking that I'm trying to hit on you or something. I speak only the truth. It really should be illegal to look that good.

I am grateful, too, for the great care and consideration you took to respect and not harm my feelings, despite the fact that my infatuation with you was in no way your fault. That shows a great deal of maturity.

I understand, given all this, that your choices are your business and that you are not required to have a 'reason' for not feeling the same about me as I did about you. If you were, I could probably supply ten pages of them. But I write to make this one request - that if there was such a reason, and if it went beyond mere compatibility issues to actual flaws in my character, personality, or what have you, that you please inform me of it so that I can become a better person. 

I regret that my own reasons for seeking this self-improvement are not entirely altruistic; I wish to fare successfully on what I hope is an upcoming date with another beautiful and virtuous woman. For while I respect her freedom of choice just as I respect yours, and in no way feel 'entitled' to her affections, I would like to do everything in my own power to increase the likelihood of her attaining them. Yes, I have my work cut out for me, but any guidance you could offer me on this point would be immeasurably helpful.

Again, I hope that you are well, and that you are soon able to find a man who deserves a woman like you.

Respectfully Yours (but not in a romantic way),

C. Randall Nicholson

P.S. I am going to name one of my daughters after you because 'Nikita Nicholson' sounds really cool to me. I did not want to mention that before, while you were here, because I thought maybe you would think I was hinting that you should marry me."

NOTE: It has been brought to my attention that actually sending such a letter would make her feel "really put on the spot, very guilty, embarrassed, awkward". Though I would like to make this request, the choice of words here is deliberately hyperbolic and over-anxious because I thought that would be amusing. I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post, already in progress.

That would be really helpful. I'll probably rely on the advice girl and the blessing guy a lot too. I had previously been asking José, but now that he's actually met her I think that would be kind of cruel, so I won't. Still, with or without the Holy Grail of womanizing advice, I'm actually daring to feel confident. Whatever the outcome (assuming she doesn't have to work and this date actually happens), I can relax and just enjoy it.

True, I'm still not a huge fan of dating, and Rita still makes me nervous. But that's just life, natural selection, sexual selection, whatever. You know you have to talk to get a girlfriend, right?