Of Death Stars and seal liver: why marriage can wait

A few weeks ago, I published an article in which I suggested that I wasn’t into girls who had kissed a lot of people. This was the main point I wished to convey. Throughout the following week, I discovered many people who found my opinion somewhat disagreeable, including a few who apparently wished me serious bodily harm.

Of course, such controversy was very welcome, and nothing other than a pay raise or a pet cybernetic space monkey could cause an opinion writer more joy.

Thus, I thank all the people who disagree with me — and even those who wish me certain death — for making my writing career all the more fulfilling.

One point was made in a letter to the editor, however, that has some merit. A girl asked if why we dwell on dating and relationships so much here at BYU–I when there are so many other important things.

A good question — why do we focus so much on those things?

Is it because our leaders tell us ? Is it because we’re at that age when our blood is seventy percent hormones? Could it be the two factors together, combined and fermented to the point where they’re causing BYU–I students to become unstoppable juggernauts of eternal desperation?

I don’t know what the cause is, but I know the result: too often, I feel like a participant in a feeding frenzy. Does anyone else feel like we’re either the tiny scrap of seal liver floating in the water or one the crazed sharks desperate to be part of that exclusive club that gets a piece of meat?

It’s happened a lot: the first day in a new ward, everyone is scoping out the opposite sex. I’m going to describe this from the point of view of someone possessing a Y chromosome, since that happens to be the kind of human I am.

We guys see a cute girl — and to avoid more spiteful letters from than necessary, I will here define “cute” as “possessing enough attractive qualities, both inward and outward, that, upon first glance, outweigh any visible bad qualities” — and instantly, that girl is the Death Star and we are the Millennium Falcon, caught hopelessly in her tractor beam of love. Then, once attraction has been established, you can catch a whiff of desperation in the way the guys in the ward descend like carrion birds.

I’d like a wife as much as the next guy — assuming the next guy’s not a giant lizard or anything — but I’m not sure I want a part of that.

I agree that marriage is important, and that without it we’re in a bit of a bind as far as eternal things go. I just think that just maybe we might be able to let other things float to the surface of our minds occasionally.

This is probably the part where someone will dredge up an out-of-context General Authority quote that says we have to get married now — yes, this INSTANT! — and hurl it at me, but I don’t care.

Marriage is important, and infinitely so, but it’s my opinion that in the when a girl sees a guy wallowing in desperation to find an eternal companion, her attraction for him is about as nonexistent as a mother in a Disney animated classic.

It’s corny, but I heard someone say once that we get more success trying to “be” the one rather than trying to “find” the one.

I think there might be some truth in that.

Let's not be the sharks. Let's not be the seal liver. Let's be the ... well, this metaphor can only go so far. But my point — let's take a break from the desperate marriage race and just enjoy the ride.

After all, every shark gets a nice meal eventually.