Land of (No) Opportunity

The Land of the Majority

I've never really had to struggle with being an outsider. I grew up in a small, rural town, and while we were "dirt poor" at times, I was surrounded by other lower-middle-class white kids just like me. I was always part of the majority.

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A Necessary Move to Idaho

A few months ago, I moved to Idaho for a teaching job. It had been almost four years since I graduated college, and despite a few close calls, I hadn't been able to land a position. When Idaho offered me a job, I packed my meager belongings, left everything I had ever known, and moved to a state I knew nothing about.

What I didn't fully realize was that my new hometown was over 80% Mormon. As an atheist, I honestly didn't care. I believe people are people, and I was ready to move on with my life.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

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The Loneliness of Being an Outlier

The people here are incredibly polite—friendly to a fault, but at a distance. They'll offer help during the workday, but they won't invite you over for dinner. From what I've gathered, once they decide you're not part of their community, you're an outsider. For the first time in my life, I'm the one who isn't the "norm." I do have a few non-LDS friends, but we're the outliers here.

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Putting My Personal Life on Hold

So, how does this relate to dating? My dating pool doesn't exist. When I said that 80% of the population is Mormon, that wasn't a plea for sympathy; it's a U.S. Census statistic. This move was necessary for my career, and I accept that. But it has also forced me to understand a type of loneliness I never truly appreciated before.

I've been alone for most of the decade since my divorce, so I'm comfortable being by myself. I've had a few relationships, but for the most part, I'm used to being single.

 However, living here has made me realize what it's like to be without the opportunity to meet someone. It feels as if I'm advancing my professional life while putting my personal life on hold. After a decade, being alone is starting to feel like a habit, and another year in an environment that only reinforces that feeling absolutely terrifies me.

Reviewing Past Relationships and What Went Wrong (Me?)

The following is a revised version of the text, with improvements to grammar, flow, and clarity.

The Mormon Conundrum

I'll start by saying that Mormons are, in many ways, much better people than I am. They're kind, polite, don't drink, and are generally nice to others. Sure, they have the stigma of "magic underwear," but honestly, if you had to be surrounded by a group of people different from yourself, you could do considerably worse than the Mormon population.

That said, they can be a bit of a drag. When I say "drag," I mean it in the nicest way possible. They don't drink, gamble, swear, or have premarital sex—all things I happen to enjoy. This isn't a problem until you realize you live in a city that has more Mormon residents per capita than Salt Lake City, Utah. For someone like me, who lacks a moral compass and a general sense of right and wrong, the fit just isn't there.

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A Dating Retrospective

So, how does this apply to my dating life? I've had a lot of time on my hands (see above), so I decided to map out my main relationships on a scale of 1 to 10. The scale is as follows: a 1 is someone who is completely and utterly "marriage material" but boring as hell, while a 10 is a crazy train who is a ton of fun but would never meet my mom.

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The Rankings

Destiny: 1/10 It's unfortunate that I was married to her for three years. She wasn't mean, but she also wasn't nice or affectionate. Sex was a chore, as was being married to me. She's married with a kid now, so I assume someone managed to get her drunk enough to make it work once.

Trey: 9/10 Damn, Trey was hot. I'm not, but she somehow decided to sleep with me. She was a dangerous combination of "being hot, not knowing how to have sex, and hating her life." She was also kind of mean, demanding, and not afraid to express how unhappy she was at any given moment. Did I mention she was so hot?

Barb: 4/10 Barb also hated me, and to complicate things, she disclosed an STD early on. That doesn't make her a bad person, though. Honestly, this was soon after my divorce, and I was a complete mess, so I didn't handle it well. She was a nice person. I just wish she hadn't told me about her STD over breadsticks at Olive Garden.

Heidi: 5/10 I never really figured Heidi out. She had kids and liked to have sex with me—and her ex-husband. She was beautiful and fun and continually made it clear that we were just a "thing." I think I was just a thing to her, which sounds nice in theory. I got attached, she bailed, and then she'd pop back in whenever she wanted sex again. After six short months of meaningless sex, I half-heartedly put an end to it. (See? I'm a terrible person.)

Kristen: 6/10 I liked Kristen, but she was really, really dumb—not in a "needs to experience life" kind of way, but more like a "she ate paint chips as a kid" way. Kristen adored me but was too similar to my ex-wife. She didn't have an original thought in her head, did what her parents told her well into her late 20s, and had no ambition. But she was fun, and if I weren't me, it might have worked. But I'm me, and it didn't. She married a 300-pound truck driver and seems happy, and that's not a joke—it's a fact.

Jessica: 8/10 Things got intense fast with Jessica, which I mistook for the real thing. She loved drama and cheating on her husband with me. In a different world and time, it might have worked out with Jessica. (Update: I recently tried again with Jessica and remembered that she majored in drama. When things are exciting and scary, you tend to ignore those red flags. Did I mention I'd probably never trust her?)

Jill: 9/10 Jill got me, which scared the living hell out of me. She was funny, beautiful, and a hell of a lot smarter than I was. I attribute our failure to bad timing and me being an emotional post-divorce disaster. I liked Jill a lot, and my mom would have, too. But Jill moved across the country, and we never spoke again. It was probably for the best.

Shannon: 10/10 Shannon was a badass. Fun, sexy, smart, and she could read me like a book—which absolutely terrified me. I loved Shannon, and she loved me back. We were going to be together. So what happened? I guess I happened. This one still causes a little pain in my stomach. She's married now, and I truly hope she's happy.

The problem with Shannon wasn't her; it was the pathetic guy who writes blog posts ranking his exes.

Why "Perfect on Paper" Doesn't Work

My friend is a stand-up guy—a successful man who works hard for his family. On paper, he hit the jackpot with his wife: she's beautiful and comes from a wealthy family. It all makes perfect sense, like a financial statement written in cursive. Yet, watching him, it's clear that life isn't a spreadsheet.

I recently found myself in a similar boat. I met a woman who, on paper, was a slam dunk: low-drama, attractive, kind, and considerate. She had everything I thought I wanted, but for some reason, the chemistry just wasn't there. At 31, I felt the pressure to "buy in" and settle down, but no amount of mental gymnastics could make it work.

In the past, I’ve definitely been a victim of "good enough." I stayed in relationships that weren’t making me happy just because an attractive woman was interested. As a friend once wisely put it, "You start ignoring red flags, and one day you look down and you're standing on a huge pile."

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The Blame Game and the "Spark"

So, why do we stay in these situations? And why do we blame ourselves when a seemingly perfect relationship fails? I felt guilty that I didn't like my ex as much as she liked me. I've been ruined by the few times I've felt that unmistakable "spark"—that lightning-bolt moment when you meet someone and everything just clicks. Your heart races, you blush, and you start fantasizing about a future that includes this new person.

But when that spark is missing, we often fall back on old habits. We get lonely and question our own worth, thinking, "Why would anyone else love me?" We go back to bad relationships, conveniently forgetting the pain and romanticizing the good times. We choose the wrong people because we know they'll accept us, even if it means more pain down the road. We basically go back for seconds and ask, "Thank you, sir, may I have another?"

The bottom line is this: If the spark isn't there, don't cling to the hope that it will magically appear. You owe it to yourself to believe you're worthy of a relationship that ignites your fire and brings out the best in you. It can be a lonely road, but you deserve more than settling for "good enough." You deserve to be decent to yourself.

Stir events by Match.com - Part Three: This is starting to get sad

Another Trip to the Wilderness

For reasons I'm still trying to understand, I made a third trip into the wilderness that is a Match.com Stir event. If you're new to my exploits in this arena, you can find my previous posts there. To summarize my first two outings:

• First time: I met up with a friend's girlfriend who was not acting like she had a boyfriend.

• Second time: I came with the friend whose now ex-girlfriend was there the last time. I met someone, but after three months, the relationship ended. Why, you ask? She didn't read well, or at all really. She shared intimate details of our sex life with her entire family (mom, dad, three sisters). And when we had a disagreement once (not a fight, just a calm discussion), she responded by curling up into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably for an hour.

So, the other night was my third trip to Stir. This time, I decided to fly solo. My buddy has found himself a girlfriend, and I couldn't beg anyone else to come with me—you know, I had options and whatnot. Now a veteran of these events, I left with many observations.

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Observations From a Stir Veteran

• Drunk girl: I saw her dancing alone again. She's made appearances at the other events, always completely drunk by the time things start and hitting on every guy there. The weird thing? She's very attractive. I couldn't tell you if she was smart because she slurred her words like a stroke victim. Either way, I'm glad she was there.

• 40-year-old dude in a baseball cap: Listen, Billy Jack, everyone knows you're bald. It's cool. You're fooling no one with the hat. Either shave your head or take the goddamn hat off.

• The husky Indian chick (convenience store, not casino): Last time I was there, I made every attempt to escape her, and she actually asked me, "Why did we never hang out?" The reason why doesn't matter; your being a glutton for punishment is what fascinates me. Do you remember being dismissive of what I did for a living? Or telling me that dumb people watch TV after I told you I loved TV? You fall into one of two categories: a liar or stupid. Which is it?

• People who can't take a hint: Luckily, I learned early on when women weren't interested in me. (Okay, it was in 7th and 8th-grade dances, and the fact that any girl, let alone a mildly attractive one, caused me to have a boner hard enough to cut glass. Looking back, yeah, that was probably a factor.) But I watched men and women continue to bombard the opposite sex with questions when that person was making it painfully obvious they weren't interested. I commend persistence, even if I don't understand it, but it's respectable. Either way, raise your self-awareness a bit and move on.

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Final Thoughts

My night ended with no real prospects on the horizon, but I did get a blog post out of it. More importantly, I'm curious to hear about the experiences others have had at these events. Leave a comment and go wild; spare no embarrassing details.

Note: It will show that I have to approve all comments now because some ass-clown keeps posting spam ads for boner pills on everything I put up. To this person, who speaks English as well as a Vietnamese hooker: I hope your grandmother is attacked by an AIDS-infested wolverine, you pathetic shit.

I'm me (and other reasons I'm an ass)

Ending a relationship is the fastest way to get a brutally honest performance review. Suddenly, your ex is happy to reveal every flaw they ever saw in you. A few pounds? You're a "fat ass." A little sarcastic? You're "dead inside."

(And honestly, she wasn't wrong. Maybe I underestimated her intelligence.)

So, what was the big takeaway from all this? I learned that knowing when a relationship is wrong is just as crucial as knowing when it's right. As a 31-year-old who's emotionally 14, my life advice is usually suspect, but I'm solid on this one.

As for my ex, I genuinely couldn't find a single bad thing to say. Sure, she bleached her hair a lot and wasn't much of a reader, but she was a genuinely sweet and caring person. For some unbiased insight, I turned to the person who knows me best: my mom.

(And by "unbiased," I mean if I used a soup ladle to wipe out an entire nursing home next week, she'd be the first person in the visiting room.)

My mom's professional opinion? "Well, you're a person who needs...space. And you need a person who doesn't need your input. I mean, you're going to give your input, but that person shouldn't care what you have to say."

And that's from the woman who gave birth to me.

After several months in a serious relationship, I can't claim to know what a great relationship looks like, but I now know exactly what it doesn't.

Most importantly, my mom said I'm Ron Jeremy handsome.