"Nice Guys Finish Last"

[In the name of full disclosure: for some of my high school readers, this post may be unsavory because you have yet to get past the “all I want is a bad boy” phase. And that’s ok. You’ll get over that eventually. For those of you who continue to seek out jerks, the truth is that you’re aren’t mature enough for the kind of relationship you swear you want. If you want a true, healthy relationship, you will not find it where you’re currently looking. When you date a jerk, you’re robbing yourself of what you want. Jerks put themselves first and don’t have time for communication or compromise. True, healthy relationships do not wear jerks’ faces and have jerks’ attitudes.]

“I wasn’t mean; I wasn’t evil. I was nice. And let me tell you, a hesitant man is the last thing a woman needs. She needs a lover and a warrior, not a Really Nice Guy” (J. Eldredge).

Nice. It’s so…blah. Neutral. Just the sound of the word is boring. If a friend of mine is describing the guy she’s dating and the best she can do is tell me he’s nice, I’m immediately wondering why she’s settling.

We have the wrong idea about nice guys. So many of us say we want to be treated well, be respected, have passion, real passion with someone. But what makes us so sure that a nice guy is the answer? Why do we hang our hats on the idea that if a guy is just nice, that’s enough?

Nice isn’t enough. Nice is flimsy.

In the same way that I hope never to be summed up as merely a nice woman, the men I date and the man I will someday marry will not be simply nice. They will care about things, have personality. Be responsible. Just as I hope to be described as enthusiastic, he will be bold and make decisions. Just as I hope to be called fiercely sincere, he’ll have what it takes to tell me when I’m wrong. Just as I hope to help him be better, he’ll help me be better. Just as I will be not be a doormat, he will not be a compliant yes man. We will not be just another nice couple.

Women often think that as long as the men they date aren’t awful, they’ll do. They’ll suffice. As long as some women can point to another man out there and say: at least my boyfriend isn’t like that guy, they think they’ve got a keeper. A nice keeper they’ll settle for.

Thinking about all of this is good because it reminds me to be more than nice. Reminds me to be better. To find things I care about and pursue them wholeheartedly. To talk to people honestly, considerately. To put myself second. To be passionate. To listen. To own up to mistakes.

I want to be a person someone’s proud to be with. Not a woman who’s settled for. And I won’t be with someone who’s nice simply because he’s better than the loser sitting next to him. I won’t be convinced that nice is as good as it gets. And I hope you won’t be either.

Time for the clarification game.

-No, I’m not saying that women are incapable of making decisions for themselves. I’m saying that women should appreciate a man who knows what he wants and is bold enough to say so. A man who is bold enough to tell the truth even when it isn’t popular. A man who doesn’t hem and haw. A man who steps up and speaks up.

-No, I’m not insinuating that people who would say that nice is among other qualities their boyfriend or girlfriend has must be idiots. I’m saying someone shouldn’t date a person merely because he or she isn’t a jerk. A man whose personality is summed up by a word as cheap as nice.

-No, I’m not assuming that everyone who’s ever been called nice is a hesitant loser. I’m saying there should be more to men and women than easy-going temperaments.

Grown Up Obsession -- Our Lives as Stories

What is it about us that makes us want to grow up so fast? Why are we always waiting around, lamenting the fact that we’re not old enough to do what we really want to do?

Think about it. When we’re in middle school, we can’t wait to be in high school. After 18 happens, we’re looking toward the end of college, some of us hoping, planning, & dreaming for marriage while others of us hope for & dream about acquiring & excelling within our perfect careers. It’s all about what’s next.

Sure, there’s a bit of anxiety every now & then. There’re always questions we ask ourselves, things we wonder. When will our lives start? When will the things we wanted for ourselves happen to us? What if whatever it is that we want fails us? What if we fail others? Or what if we’re really good? What if we surprise even ourselves? What’ll that feel like? What’s next?

We forget to relish the time we have. To make the most out of the now, the present. So much of our lives are spent looking ahead, looking toward our plans, looking toward anything that isn’t what is currently happening around us. Isn’t it strange, how easy it is to ignore what’s happening when we’re focusing on what’s to come? I think it’s strange. Strange and a little sad. When we do this, we miss out on contributing to our own stories.

One of my favorite authors is named Don Miller. He writes a lot of stuff about what he believes in, what his failures have taught him, and how he tries to be a better person. One of his more recent books is called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years and it’s all about living lives that are meaningful. Story-worthy. It’s about how all the truly good stories involve a character who wants something & overcomes conflict to get it.

(Pssst. Those characters? They’re us. They’re our stories. We each get one.)

In a nutshell, Don Miller got the chance to turn one of his other books about his life and lessons learned throughout, Blue Like Jazz, into a movie. Such an undertaking gave him the chance to create and edit the story of his life. He was told by the producers that in order to portray his life as something viewers would actually pay money to see, some changes would have to be made. I found this idea really interesting. Editing your life.  Here’s an excerpt from the intro to his book, an excerpt that I’ve found myself thinking a lot about recently:

“If you watched a movie about a guy who wanted a Volvo and worked for years to get it, you wouldn’t cry at the end when he drove off the lot, testing the windshield wipers. You wouldn’t tell your friends you saw a beautiful movie or go home and put a record on to think about the story you’d seen. The truth is, you wouldn’t remember that movie a week later, except you’d feel robbed and want your money back. Nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who wants a Volvo.

But we spend years actually living those stories, and expect our lives to feel meaningful. The truth is, if what we choose to do with our lives won’t make a story meaningful, it won’t make a life meaningful either” (xiii).

Interesting concept, isn’t it? The thought that we’re all living out stories—the choices we make & the consequences we deal with are all ours. The decisions we make and the people we figure ourselves to be turn into the stories we’re living. Out loud. Stories that people physically watch, rather than read. Incredible.

The idea of editing one’s life is a little scary because we never really get the chance to do it. Sure, we can make different decisions, learn from lessons, mature, grow up, etc. But go back & actually change what we’ve done? Erase it completely? Impossible.

So I’m trying to learn from the rare chance Don Miller got of editing his life, giving his lackluster stories more pizzazz. I don’t want to live a lackluster life. I want each moment to matter to me. I want not to focus on just what’s ahead. I want my relationships with everyone around me to be focused. Intentional. Screw small talk. I want to ask questions. I've never been good with chit-chat. I want to find out, get to know, and then appreciate the people in my life. Out loud. I want them to know it. I want my friends and family to hear that they matter to me.

I want to focus on right now. And as many right nows as I can take advantage of. I’m not saying I want to have adventures every second, because come on, how realistic is that? But I am saying there is immense value in staying present. I want to do that. I want to be present & stay there.  

So, your story. The one you’re living right now. Is it a good one? Is it one you’d bother reading about? Are you present or is the sole function of your present to contain plans for your future?

Join me in trying to remain in the now. Let's appreciate where each of us are at this very second, rather than fantasizing about what's up ahead. We're all going to grow up. No matter how much we wish for time to speed up & grant us what we hope for, becoming adults occurs at a different pace, depending on the person.  But no matter who we are or what our plans, growing up happens in time. Let's make the most of that time, shall we?  

What Do You Want?

Where’re you going to school?

What’s your major?

What do you want to be when you grow up?

What do you do?

Where do you work?

What do you want?

So many questions. So many decisions. If everything else in life is inconsistent, no one can say that questions about our future and our goals will subside or become unpredictable. Because no matter what, people will want to know. People will always ask. We will always want to answer.

We’re not the only victims here, you know. We ask these questions, too. We can’t help ourselves. We’re all curious. Nosey. Competitive.  We put others in the same situation because we want to know what everyone’s plans are for their lives; whether it’s because we just genuinely want to know or because we use their answers as a light to guide our own ambitions, we’re all guilty of it. Wanting to know.

Aside from the fact that these questions constantly bombard all of us, we feel pressured to have an impressive answer right away. As if thinking, weighing options, changing our minds, making mistakes, or doing something different from what we said when we were 16 means we’re neurotic, noncommittal, or both. So we answer. And if we can’t—if we’re unsure—we feel inadequate. Guilty. Like just because we don’t have an answer, we’re letting down whoever asked. Whoever feels like they deserve an explanation of us about our own future. We all want to know what we want. We want to be able to tell people.

Lest we forget, we put others in this spot, too. Yikes.

But here’s the thing. Just because a question is asked doesn’t mean we have to come up with gold right away. Just because they (we) ask doesn’t mean we have to have it all figured out in that moment. It isn’t a crime to be honest & say we don’t know. That we’re figuring it out. That we’re doing our best.

For those of us who do know what we want, that’s ok too. It’s important to remember though, that just because we might have things figured out right now doesn’t mean we have the right to look down on the people who might not have things quite as ‘together’ as we do. Because here’s the kick in the pants: just because we think we have our lives all planned out doesn’t mean it’ll end up the way we think it should (for more on this, see post from June called “Before Chickens Hatch…”).

The point is, sure, being able to give answers is always great. But we aren’t any less or more important because we are or aren’t able to give them at the drop of the hat. The point is, find out what you love. Then do that with everything you have. Give it your best, because then, even if you crash & burn, there’s always the chance that you won’t. There’s always the chance that you’ll soar. But let’s say you do crash & burn. There’s no shame in picking a different path for yourself. No shame in trying something different. In changing your mind.

Just figure out what you love. What fulfills you. If you don’t do that, how are you contributing to the betterment of humanity? You can’t pour into others unless you’re filled to the brim yourself. People who work jobs they hate have a difficult time pouring into other people because they’re borderline empty themselves. Don’t be those people. Be the people who do what they love. Then inspire others to do what they love. There needs to be more people like that in the world.

So. . .what do you want?

Chicken Minis & Murphy’s Law

[my least philosophical post to date]

Before I unpack this idea, allow me to tell a little back story.

For most of my life I’ve heard people say “Well, that’s just Murphy’s Law for you,” or some other phrase that means the same thing. When I was little, I remember wondering who Murphy was & why everyone blamed him when things didn’t work out. I remember kinda feeling sorry for the guy.

It wasn’t until middle school that I asked a teacher what the phrase meant. She had planned a really cool lesson for us in the car on the way to school; a lesson that she swore was so much better than the one she’d planned in advance. Unless you are a teacher, you won’t understand the gravity of what an awesome feeling that is…just trust me when I say it’s one of the absolute best feelings ever. So anyway, in her excitement she hastily loaded the instructions into the copier, which ended up jamming and creating a hot mess. The handouts that did print were single-sided when they were supposed to be double, and stapled in two of the four corners (if any former students of mine are reading this, now you know how early I was introduced to my current nemesis: the copier). How on earth the machine allowed for two corners to be stapled is beyond me. Anyway, she rushed back into the classroom, flustered and irritated. She tossed the scraggly papers on her desk (there were probably less than 15 papers…the poor lady had 150 students) and slumped into her chair, exasperated. We were all staring at her, waiting for whatever happened next. She said:

“Of course. Murphy’s Law at its freaking finest.”

After we got over the thrill of our teacher saying an offshoot of the F word, we went back to the business of listening to her tell us that we were going to have to stick with the original, boring plan since the Xerox machine hated her guts. It was at this point in my 12 year old life that I realized I no longer pitied Murphy. Whoever he was, wherever he was, he was now on my bad list. I realized that his rules, whatever they were, made bad things happen to good people like my teacher, who was just trying to create something awesome for us to do. I did a quick rewind-flashback of all the times I’d heard the phrase, all the times it was spoken by frustrated victims, typically people I really cared about. I had a vague idea of what Murphy’s Law was, but after the bell rang in that 7^th grade English class, I hung back & asked my teacher just to be sure. Here’s what she told me:

The secret to remembering what Murphy’s Law means is in realizing that “if anything can go wrong -- it will.”

                 [Ok first off, I have to acknowledge that this is a completely negative
                             way to look at life. However, that isn't the point of this post,
                                 so stay tuned for more on that at a later date.]

I remember wondering how the heck people were supposed to know that. And where did it come from, anyway? It’s an easily applicable saying, but why is Murphy’s Law being used when people don’t know who the guy was or what he did? Since middle school, I’ve come up with my own way of relating to his rules.

I think a great culturally relevant example of this law can be found in Chick-Fil-A’s hours of operation. I call it The Chicken Mini Theory. I like it better than Murphy’s Law because most of the people that use the phrase “Murphy’s Law” don’t realize that it was initially coined during a rocket-sled experiment for the US Air Force that went wrong (thanks, Wikipedia!!).  The Chicken Mini Theory, however, is right there in the definition. Chicken minis. Enough said.

As we all know, the beloved fast food chain is closed on Sundays. And wouldn’t you know, that is the day that I am always, always hungry for chicken minis. I’m not sure what it is about Sunday mornings, but I can honestly tell you that I can’t remember a Sunday where I’ve woken up NOT craving those deliciously battered nuggets. Here’s a peek at the well-practiced dance I do on the seventh day of almost every week:

wake up, crave minis, start putting shoes on to go get said minis, realize halfway through shoelace on left shoe that it’s Sunday, cry a little on the inside, mentally sort through other breakfast options half-heartedly ‘cause once you’ve craved and imagined consuming such a delicious breakfast it’s hard to top it, take right shoe off, unlace left shoelace, dejectedly head to the kitchen.

Why do I always do this? Why, on all other SIX days of the week, do I not crave chicken minis? How come my body is programmed to crave them on the one day they aren’t available? Because. As our friend Murphy tells us, If anything can go wrong it will. Plus, we always want what we can’t have. (Post to come on that topic soon. It will be much more serious than fast food, I promise.)

  

[For the record, I have nothing against Chick-Fil-A’s hours & everything against my inconvenient cravings of their food. Please hear me on that. I truly respect that Chick-Fil-A observes Sundays as a day of rest. I actually think it’s pretty cool of the company to operate like that. Honor the Lord’s day, rest up, we’ll see y’all on Monday. Word.]

The Chicken Mini Theory can be easily applied to a multitude of examples having nothing to do with the minis themselves, much like how Murphy’s Law is never applied to rocket-sled experiments. The difference between the two is that, while few of us can relate to Murphy’s engineering mishap, most of us can relate to the unfortunate wrong of craving food that is unattainable. Running late for an important meeting & you get stuck in awful traffic? Chicken Mini Theory. Going on a first date and you wake up the morning of with a huge pimple on your face? Chicken Mini Theory. Trying to sneak up behind someone and end up tripping and knocking them over? Chicken Mini Theory.

The possibilities are endless.

Truth or Dare

This game - everyone sitting in a circle late at night, munching on snacks and slurping juice boxes - is a game that reveals the true character of those playing, no matter how old they are. This game used to strike terror in me at slumber parties where mean girls were present. I think it's safe to say that we would all be able to recall an accepted challenge or secret spilled while playing Truth or Dare during childhood. I also think it's safe to say that we could all remember being surprised or impressed (or both) with some of our friends as they courageously admitted something or mischievously completed a task. Those things tend to stick with us.

 

Everyone knows that if you go truth, you're a pansy. You're a pansy because you picked truth out of fear for what the dare would make you do. Plus, if you pick truth, you can always lie. Everyone knows that dare is where the fun is. Dare results in a variety of things, from toilet seats being licked to hamsters getting shaved, from kissing to strangers receiving calls in the middle of the night, among other things. You know. Dare is where street cred starts. 

 

Truth or Dare is a party game that presents and reveals the binaries of our character. It is one of many chances we have to decide who we are. For a lot of us, playing Truth or Dare was the first time we were put to the test to see how far we were willing to go to attain & retain Cool. And that game isn't restricted just to elementary school slumber parties. In fact, the older we get, the more outrageous the dares demanded of us, the more scandalous the truths required. The stakes are higher. We have reputations to protect. 

 

As we grow up, we are constantly presented with opportunities to show our character. If I've heard it once, I've heard it a thousand times: life is full of character-defining moments all lined up. As old as that saying might be, I have to admit it is undeniable. So the better we know ourselves, the better. The better we know ourselves, the more comfortable we will be with showing people who we are. The choices presented, the unavoidable challenges of real life, all come down to us deciding who we are & how we will approach a given situation. While Truth or Dare may be a silly (or torturous, depending on who you are) game meant to pass the time late at night, we will continue to be challenged as long as we are alive. We will be faced with difficult choices & circumstances, each with their own set of consequences. Long-lasting consequences.

I'm not saying don't play Truth or Dare. I'm not saying that if you choose dare you're a horrible person, or that if you lie in response to a truth, you're an immoral person. I'm just asking you to recognize that it isn't just a game. You define yourself through that game as a kid, just like you will during other life experiences as an adult. So figure out who you are. Figure out what you stand for. 

 

 

[One last bit of advice: if you play Truth or Dare with real, true friends, you won't feel the pressure to lie or do something you're not ok with. And if you're playing with real, true friends & still feel that pressure, maybe just stick to Twister or ghost stories :)].