The inside of a guy’s mind

A page telling women how to flirt says:

A guy’s mind is simple. He wants the attention of all attractive women. If he knows you like him already, he’ll lose interest in wooing you or impressing you.

If it seems too obvious that you like him already, he knows that he doesn’t have to work harder to get your attention and he’ll forget all about the chase.

Clearly, they’ve never seen the inside of my mind (nevermind why I was reading the article, that’s a story for another day, like probably never). They don’t know that all the flirting games become too apparent to me. The more these rules are adhered to, they don’t make me more interested, but less. The tips claim to guard against it being too obvious, but if I’ve already figured it out (which doesn’t take reading the article), and you flirt with another guy to try to get my attention, it does exactly the opposite: makes it too obvious. Plus, I have a tendency to say fine, flirt with him, if that’s what you really want. Don’t be fake on my account.

Take, for example, a young woman I was pursuing a few years ago. We were sitting in church, and I was sitting at the sacrament table to bless the sacrament. This meant I had a clear view of this woman, who was sitting on the same side of the building. The meeting had not yet started. As people were coming in, my attention was drawn to another guy coming in. Of this man and his brother one of my friends said that no guy wants to invite either of them to his own wedding, for fear their fianceé will abandon them at the altar. They were significantly taller than 6’0″, muscular, handsome, secure jobs, well-paying jobs, talented, athletic.

So, in walks one of these brothers, and my attention is drawn by the color of his shirt (pink, I think). This young woman I was pursuing notices the shift in my eyes, and turns around to see what I’m looking at. When she sees him, she she looks back toward me, then tries to make it look like she’s ogling him, and trying to get him to look at her. As he passes the row she is sitting in, his eyes focused on whatever his goal was, she gives up and shrugs her shoulders. I had to stifle some laughs. No matter how highly I thought of this woman, he was still out of her league. Saying that makes me think of a line from a nursery rhyme: “The little dog laughed to see such sport.”

If I already know you like me and you try too hard to be coy, I’ll think maybe you don’t like me anymore, or at least not as much as you used to, and I’ll be singing along to Blues Traveler’s Run-around: “But you, why you wanna give me a run-around? Is it a sure-fire way to speed things up, when all it does is slow me down?” I won’t start thinking, “What can I do to continue the chase?” No, I’ll start thinking, “What did I do or say that resulted in her choosing to lose interest in me?”

On another occasion, this same young woman, again at church, was heading from the back of the chapel toward the front. The meeting was over; I was cleaning up the used sacrament cups and putting the cloths away. The ward choir had performed a few musical numbers; I was a bass in the choir. I knew, as I saw her approaching, that she was coming to compliment me on the performance. But, there was no one else around, as they were all in the gym behind the chapel socializing. This made it so that when I smiled upon seeing her coming toward me, she stopped, contorting her lips to the left side of her mouth (ladies, please know that this doesn’t look attractive, it just looks like, well, like you’re trying too hard), and turned to the left, exiting out the door on that side.

The effect this had was not to make me try harder. I spent many hours trying to figure that one out, and yes, eventually came to the conclusion she was playing by the rules at the above site. Have I mentioned I don’t like playing games? I don’t consider flirting to be a form of playing games; I do consider flirting with someone else to try to get me to chase to be playing games.

2022-09-03 Update: did you notice how much of the above included in-person interaction? I’m not good at picking up on interest signals over text. I’m lacking all audio and all visual cues, which apparently I rely on heavily. With audio only, I figure I have a 40% chance of picking up the cues and interpreting them correctly. With audio and visual, I figure it goes up to 75%. Audio and visual, in-person? Up to 85-90%, as long as Captain Oblivious doesn’t get involved. With text only, I figure it’s at an abysmal 5%. Unless it’s made very obvious, contrary to what that page says to do.

Undiscovered

“Just because you haven’t discovered it yet doesn’t mean you don’t have one,” she said as I turned and walked away. She was right, and I knew it, no matter how much I wanted it to be otherwise. It was an unending conversation lately, and I was finished with it for the day. Everyone my age had already found theirs; I either didn’t have one or was a late bloomer, or I hadn’t been trying to find it. But we both knew by the fact we were attending school in the desert, the nearest civilization over two hours away by plane, was a direct result of our heritage, which meant I had at least one gift, one “superpower”, bestowed upon me by the gods. One gift I was to use for the betterment of my fellow humans.

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Of Dreams and Tears

An amazing thing
Is the heart
Beating strong
Life-long

But here’s the sting:
Some come apart—
Hardened with age,
Or filled with rage—
And fail.

Some are supple and soft,
But for all their calm,
Their dreams aloft,
Even seeking Gilead‘s balm,
They will yet wail.

Time has passed
Since I awoke
Dreams saline-soaked—
Streams of a lass.

Though I knew her name,
I knew not why tears came
Streaming down her face.
Oh, if I could her sorrow replace!

She sat three rows in front.
I wondered to what affront
These brooks belonged.
For knowledge I longed.

So of my dream-guide
I enquired discretely,
Who replied so sweetly,
“On thy account she cries.”

Dreaming still, I motioned
For her to come talk with me
Away from the people-ocean.
I took her by the hand
Beyond the people-sand—
For all her tears she could barely see.

Through stifled sobs
The reasons for her sorrow
She revealed.

To reasons for hope I appealed;
Her pain my heart did harrow,
With handkerchief I daubed

Until heart beats
And desire’s throbs
Did meet.

I awoke with a start
My thoughts darting:
Was it real? No, just a dream;
Tears ephemeral.

But now I wonder
Have I blundered?
Have my actions been cause
For her to pause?

When she is where I can’t look,
Have tears streamed down her cheek?
When I’m not where I can take a peek,
Has she formed those saline brooks?

Or is her heart
Safely at rest
In a simple chest
Of bone, and sinew, and flesh?

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

  • Done Trying (crazyhotmess1995.wordpress.com) – Though most certainly not the inspiration for this poem, this post captures the idea of the sorrow in the dream.

The Good Samaritan

Henry B Eyring spoke of the overloaded priesthood holder, referring to the parable of the good Samaritan. This reminded me of one of my favorite poems by Australian poet Henry Lawson:

The Good Samaritan

He comes from out the ages dim—
The good Samaritan;
I somehow never pictured him
A fat and jolly man;
But one who’d little joy to glean,
And little coin to give—
A sad-faced man, and lank and lean,
Who found it hard to live.
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Quote

Doubt vs Faith

“Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith” – Deiter F. Uchtdorf

Veil of Curiosity

The query heard so oft
From the mouth of young
From your lips now ascends
Softly to my ears.

A child who holds “why” dear
Rarely she pretends
To hold it in her lungs,
Nor her mind aloft,

The answer that she seeks;
Her query comes sincere.
Repeatedly he asks,
His keen mind filled with
Curiosity.

I think between your cheeks
An answer appears;
In the light your face basks
Of words with great pith
Hoped for aurally.

But no matter how bold
Nor how confident
I may be, I am bound;
To say what I wish
Is not my luxury.

My tongue I must hold,
Or reap the consequence
Foretold—I have found,
When words hoped for you fish,
I know I’m not free

By the way my skin crawls
As I mentally
Take that small step.  I stall;
To my face gently,
Quickly I raise the veil:
Curiosity.

My answer returns softly,
My desire unsung.
Disappointment transcend
As heart changes gear

And through thin veil I peer;
My words I amend.
Hope upon these words hung,
As thin veil doffed:

If it’s meant to be,
Then someday it will be.

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

Link

Sound personal finance blog

Sound personal finance blog

This blog is by a CPA friend of mine.  If you’re looking to improve your personal savings, Brent’s posts are clear, concise, easy to understand, and easy to follow (well, sure, they take discipline, but any improvement does).

Mid-afternoon Stroll on a Late Summer Day

Water and dust—
Sky feathers—streaking
White on blue;
Passing green grass
As I walk, of you
Fondly thinking,
If know you must.

Quiet chirps
Can be heard
From a hundred birds
In the green-leafed trees,
Fluttering on the breeze
Plumage black-purple:

Their cries sonic
My private thoughts
Can’t penetrate
Beyond membrane tympanic
While visions of you are brought
Below my pate to resonate.

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

Power Struggle

Think not about Watts,
Not Joules over time,
Nor strength of rhyme
Cast from thought scheming plots.

Not one of delta-delta or wye-wye,
Nor yet of turbine against hydro-flow,Lightning
Nor Quixotic blades by air or lance
Made to do their circular dance.

This struggle is with powers on high;
And powers here below;
Powers of the mortal mind
And powers of human heart.

The struggle brings him to his knees;
Too proud to kneel, he cannot Heaven please.
A power granted once to another
Now his heart smothers—

Power granted was not announced,
Lest upon the opportunity the recipient pounce
And his heart—as the moment flounced,
And his mind seized up by the jounce—
Fail him.

Power over his heart was given,
Not the power to make it riven
Nor the power to with others be shriven,
But towards unity be thriven.

But the power unannounced remains
With the giver, unclaimed,
While under its weight he strains,
And to proclaim itself the power does not deign.

Awaiting resolution from inside or out,
He finds his words lose clout
And the unspoken is not kind.
Fear of losing dear ones makes him start—
He seeks someone to hear his pleas
Again, the struggle brings him to his knees.

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

Serendipity, Karma, and Synchronicity

Serendipity

I headed to the mountains to go hiking by myself after work the other day.  I planned to hike to a waterfall along the Wasatch bench, but as I drove, it felt right to go instead to a canyon I had seen in a friend’s Facebook post.  I didn’t remember the canyon’s name, but I knew where it was and though I did not know for certain, I had a vague idea of how to get to the trail head.  After passing Big Cottonwood canyon, I just went by what felt right—what my inner voice was telling me to do.  A left here, up the hill, a left there, a right here, and—found it.  At the trail head, I was reminded of the canyon’s name: Ferguson.

A view of the Salt Lake Valley from the Ferguson Canyon trailFrom the first part of the trail there is a fabulous view of the Salt Lake Valley.  I’m sure it will be even better after a rainstorm.  There are also some large, steep rock formations up the canyon, some completely vertical. Up Ferguson Canyon I came upon some climbers and watched them for a bit.  According to RunKeeper, I had gone about one mile (my phone lost GPS signal at some point, so I think it was actually further), at which point I decided I should turn around so I could make it home in time to play Ultimate.  As I headed down, I encountered a local group of cub scouts heading up.  One of the leaders lives one street over from me.  We said hello and chatted a bit, then I was about to continue down, when another leader arrived from below.  He said, “He’s just going to wait there.”  They had with them a special needs young man who was ill-equipped for the steep, rocky, sandy terrain.  He thought he was going on a short, almost flat hike around Silver Lake near the Brighton ski resort.  Instead, he was facing this:

Ferguson Canyon Furgeson Canyon Elevation ProfileHe had basketball shoes on, no socks, and his shoes weren’t tied.  He kept slipping on the loose rocks on a particularly steep part of the trail, and he’d had enough.  I knew the young man; I’ve coached him in church basketball and given him rides home from basketball.  My neighbor suggested perhaps I could give him a ride home.

Karma

As the prophet Alma taught his wayward son Corianton, “that which ye do send out shall return unto you again, and be restored” (Alma 41:15 (12-15)) Having received so many rides when I did not have a driver license, I chose to give this young man a ride home, “sending out” that which I already received.  One of the leaders came partway down with me, the two of us helping this young man down, as he had lost his confidence from all the slipping.  This leader wanted to make sure I was okay with giving him a ride home, so I explained I am grateful that I am now in a position where I can pay those rides back.

Synchronicity

It turned out that there was not enough communication to get enough people out to play Ultimate.  Had I known there would be too few people to play while I was up Ferguson Canyon, I would have continued up the canyon, and thus not have been there to help.  This lack of communication, once I was in Ferguson Canyon, had a causal effect on me being there to help.  However, the fact that I was in Ferguson Canyon at the right time to help had three contributing factors: I wanted to go hiking, I got off work a bit early to do so, and I listened to “the still, small voice” within me regarding where to go.  The young man I helped commented, “It’s really lucky that you’re here to help me.”  I submit that it was serendipitous by the original definition, on account of me having the sagacity to listen to the still, small voice, though I was not seeking an opportunity to help others at the time.  I also submit that my desire and plan to play Ultimate, my desire and plan to go hiking after work, and my desire to help others came together in a fit of synchronicity making a meaningful relationship between my activities that afternoon and evening.  The Wikipedia article on synchronicity says “From the religious perspective, synchronicity shares similar characteristics of an ‘intervention of grace’.”  Indeed, for my young friend, there was an intervention of grace that day.

 

Twenty

Twenty years have past
Since we saw each other last
Twenty things I thought I’d remember
This month before September

Twenty people I said a good hello to
In three brief hours, that I knew
Twenty or more by four
I saw come in the door
To some a brief hello, but no lore,
No reminiscing of yore
Before time flew.
The rest no greeting just a view.

Twenty things others recalled
I stood as they told their tales
My heart did flinch and quail
In fear I might be appalled—

To my relief and to my shame
Tales told did not discredit my name
Though many present I could not remember
My shame is: What kept me away these twenty Septembers?

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

Video

Make the Homeless Smile

Another video on the same theme (well, visually at least) as the one I posted three weeks ago.