Friday, July 29, 2005

Welcome to Sunny California

I have been living in California now since the middle of June. My car and bike just don't look right with those awful white California plates. Marked, branded, the same as those people that moved to and ruined Idaho. I take solace only in the fact that I can now drive any way I like and the people in the other cars will be cursing those danged californians! Not me, though. I am an Idahoan.

Ridgecrest is nice. It's certainly not beachfront property, actually being in the middle of the Mojave desert, but, as the recruiters like to say, "We're not in the middle of nowhere, we're two and a half hours from everything!" I never would have just decided to move here, but I like my new job--about which I will not be blogging since it seems to be bad for one's employability--and it's a nice place. I am in continual search for others of my own kind: youngish single people for whom conversations about potty training and poop are out-of-bounds. In Ridgecrest we are a rare breed. This means that those of us who have put off marriage are now faced with a shrinking gene pool in which to swim.

For years now I have refused to give in to online dating. Of course, in a world where porn and gambling have invaded the internet, it's hard to imagine another pernicious evil, dating, not making it's place too. So, with much trepidation, and not a little encouragement from my unnamed support team, I joined eHarmony.com and LDSSingles.com. So to all of the others in Relationships Anonymous:

Hello, my name is Ricky, and I have a dating problem. I have been single all my life, and my mother thinks I have a problem with committment. All together now: "H-e-llo, Ri-ck-y."


In truth, I am wating for arranged marriages to come back into style in the Western hemisphere. And I don't mean being set up on blind dates, or having my email address handed out to perfect strangers by my relatives. No, in a perfect world we would all get married at 25. There would be a church job (a 'calling' in my church) whose sole ministry would be the assignment of eternal companions. Presumably this person would be open to inspiration and revelation in making the assignment, so that it would be more like, "I'm marrying so-and so? Hmmm. Now I see. I never would have found so-and-so on my own. Thank you so much!" etc., etc. How could you divorce someone that God, through his annointed matchmaker, had chosen just for you? It would take a lot of faith, but then again, so does dating.