The Relationship Status

I have talked a lot this week about what defines a relationship. The true factors that make up a bond between two people. In the past two W.O.D.'s that I have done, I have talked about first date personas, games that are played, being a gentleman, and the in's and out's of kissing. But...I will say that the sole factor that truly defines what a relationship is the digital crutch that we are all leaning upon; Facebook.

Yes that's right kids, the variable that most sincerely constructs a dating escapade is just a few clicks of a mouse away, the infamous relationship status update.

For full effect, download "Cult Status" by A.F.I. from iTunes and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

A few months ago I went into depths about how Facebook is ruining us as a culture. It has weakened us, destroyed our interpersonal communication skills, and has become the tool for which close to 15% of Mother Earth's population uses to destroy their own personality with. On Tuesday I comically wrote about the "DTR" or the "determine the relationship" talk that periodically happens between two people. With Facebook, that pathetic discussion can be avoided by one swift adjustment to your own profile. A relationship status on Facebook has become the new "DTR"

Jane Doe: "So...what are we?"

Swamp Thing: "What are...we?"

Jane Doe: "What is...this?" Cue awkward hand movements back and forth at chest level.

Swamp Thing: "This is...uh...?"

Jane Doe: "Well, what I'm trying to say is...can I change my relationship status to 'in a relationship' or should I just leave it as 'single'? You tell me."

Cue awkward silence as I brace myself for the next step in a serious commitment with Jane Doe.

I tried to explain this concept to my Grandma this evening, and she had an entirely different perspective on "relationship status."

Grandma: "See back in my day, we didn't have things like Facebook to tell people who we were dating. If a girl was dating someone, she would usually wear his class ring on a necklace, or she would have on his letterman jacket. And if she was about to get engaged, she would tote his fraternity pin. We used to say that she was pinned."

Swamp Thing: "You would call it 'getting pinned'?"

Grandma: "Yes. See the process was you would date, you would go steady, you would get pinned, then you would be engaged. None of those kinds of formal romantics exist anymore."

Nope, they sure don't. Not at all. Dating, going steady, and getting pinned has now been replaced with Facebook updates, wall posts, and relationship status changes. Heck, you really know when two peas are in a pod when they combine their Facebook profiles to become one person. You know what I'm talking about, when your friends Alex Golding and McCall Stevenson have changed to who they shall now be called, AlexMcCallStevensonGolding. All one word.

Yes, the acts of the gentlemanly dating romances are just farts in the wind in our day and age. We now live through our Facebook profiles. No longer will we need courtship, or proper dating, or even letterman jackets for crying out loud! Those are all far behind us. Now we live through social media. And the way that you tell if someone is off-limits is by what their profile says, not by the pin that they are wearing.

Location: McKay-Dee Hospital

I Don't Like Big Buts

From the title and the iconic image that I used for this post, you already know what song to download from iTunes and play a maximum volume throughout the duration of your reading. If you haven't figured it out yet, just type in Sir Mix-A-Lot into the search bar, and YouTube his disgusting one-hit wonder.

In other news, I will give a short shout out to any of my fellow Royals out there that are reading this post. I spent this morning recruiting at our Alma Mater, and I will say that I did get a bit sentimental feeling right at home with everyone donning black and gold. Good times I must say, good times.

But, back to the buts. And if you're an English major correcting my grammar, don't be alarmed just yet. The "but" that I'll be writing about today has only one T, not two. Which in turn leads me to pose the rhetorical question to you readers, how many of you clicked on this post thinking that I would be writing about something dirty? Sorry to crash your hopes and dreams, but that's just not me. Anymore.

So, Big Buts. I use this term as the theme for today's post, I think mainly because the word "but" is the most common term to describe the skeletons in all of our closets. And you have to admit, everyone has a skeleton or two dangling from coat hangers in their own personal/subconscious closets. However, rather than call them skeletons, our culture has learned to rename them by using the infamous term "but".

Hear me out on this.

Think about the last time that an awkward family member wanted to set you up on a blind date with someone that they knew. They would ramble on for a good solid 45 minutes about all of their accomplishments and achievements, but then once you started to lose focus for a moment or two, they would then throw the "but" in there when you're not looking. Seeing if they can slide a fast one by you. Model John V does it to me all the time when I'm headed up north.

Model John V: "Oh Brockie, I've got the best girl that I want to set you up with. She's smart, and pretty, and funny, and has a degree in business, and she's been to the moon and back, and she once saved an entire village in Uganda from burning down, and she can hold her breath under water for 11 minutes, and she can literally stop time when she wants to. Just like that, stop time. She is that incredible. I think you two would really hit it off."

Swamp Thing: "That's great, she sounds wonderful. But...?"

Model John V: "But, she used to be in a bloodthirsty gang and was once shot in the femur by someone who she had a 'hit' on, and that's why she walks with a limp, and because of that, she is now in the witness protection program, but that's all behind her. You two would be great."

Swamp Thing: "Check Please?"

There are buts everywhere. All over the place. And the older that I've gotten in this great state of dating escapades, the wilder and more outrageous the buts have gotten as well. And you hear them left and right, once the initial praising has calmed down, the but comes in to be the factor as to why they are still single. And believe me, I've just about heard them all.

Jane Doe: "...but, she's a bi-polar schizophrenic who has a fear of the color orange."

M. Brave Aurelius: "...but, she is 47 and lives with 13 cats."

VRM Mt. Pleasant Baker: "...but, she has a seven-eyed twin growing out of her back."

Fishmitts: "...but, she did serve a mission."

Alright, I'm playing on that last one, there's nothing wrong with a girl serving a full-time mission, but for other people, that seems to raise up a red flag on a potential relationship. These buts are everywhere. And I have found that the older I have gotten, the bigger the but has grown. I'm scared to think about what kind of buts I'm going to run into if I'm still in the single pool in ten years.

Random Stranger: "...but, she used to be a zebra. Aside from that, she's got a lot going for her. You two would be wonderful!"

I guess when it comes down to it, everyone has buts. No matter what size they may be, (giggity) we all have some type of but that makes us unique, that personalizes our own authentic character. And maybe true L-word means that you're able to look past those buts and care about the person in spite of the fact that they still sleep with their Care Bear doll and haven't shaved their legs or mustache since 8th grade.

What's my but you may ask? Hmm...that's a good question. I guess that we are all our own harshest critics, but if I were to be describing what my own but is, I guess I would just say that I'm missing a part of my brain and have eleven sisters? Yeah, that may be a tough but to swallow. Hopefully someone can handle a but like that. If not, then maybe I will take out that zebra girl. I just might have a chance with her.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location: McKay-Dee Hospital

Who Has The Power?

I might as well get used to this location.

With my eyelids drooping and yet another day stumbling along, I thought I would delve into yet another component of dating and relationships, this of course being the highly touted W.O.D. part deux. Thank you Charlie Sheen. Oh by the way his angels are making their second-tier debut tonight on television. Join the classy yet casual shindig at my apartment if you'd like to. I wont be there, but Chief Kent is a mighty fine host.

Back to live action.

For full effect, download "Spirit of the Wild" by Ted Nugent from iTunes, and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

In my life I have come across laws and rules that I know to be more true than the fact that women L-word chocolate. The first rule of Brocktrine was something that I blogged about a few weeks earlier, and this is that we always want what we can't have. The second rule of Brocktrine, something that has driven all of us mad when it comes to any type of dating scheme is this; whoever has the least amount of interest in a relationship has the most control in that relationship.

Chew on that for a bit while Nugent drones away in the background.

Think about it from your own personal perspective. Take your last intimate relationship with someone and use it as the example for this. Whenever two people meet and make some type of connection, one becomes the giver and one becomes the receiver. One of them is the hunter and the other the hunted. Whoever is the hunted controls the movement and dynamics of the relationship.

The hunted do what they please, they frolic around on their own schedule, on their own time, meanwhile the hunter breaks down the logistics of the relationship, analyzes the movement of their prey, ponders and thinks about the next steps of flirtation and courtship that will be taken, caters their course of action around the movement of the hunted. Meanwhile, the hunted doesn't give a whim about the other, they just enjoy having the power.

You may be shaking your head in disagreement at me right now, thinking to yourself, "Oh Swamp Thing, you are so naive and incorrect about how relationships work. If only you had a clue as to how they really are."

No, this is exactly how they really are. I know this.

Take for instance my most recent attempt at a failed relationship. I met a great girl, a bomb.com girl, (yes I did just use the phrase bomb.com). She was smart, witty, ambitious, educated, and tough. Add to the fact that she was ridiculously good-looking and she seemed to be the total package. After knocking me off my feet I became the victim of being the hunter. I waited impatiently for text messages, I debated with friends about what my next plan of attack would be, heck I even read the second volume of the Hunger Games in hopes that she and I would have something to talk about.

But it was to no avail. She was the hunted, and therefore had total control of the speed and potential of a future doomed relationship meanwhile I sat on the sideline twiddling my thumbs playing the role of a pathetic loser who had never spoken to a female counterpart before in my life. Heck, Elmer Fudd did a better job chasing down Bugs Bunny than I did. I was befuddled, frustrated, and because I got caught up in the chase I came off like a creep.

Cue background music by Radiohead.

Who knows what might have happened had the roles been reversed and I had been the hunted? And yeah, it's sad that this law of Brocktrine exists. But it does. And if you're currently the prey, enjoy it while it lasts. Because one day you might be the hunter. And thats the worst role you can play.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location: McKay-Dee Hospital

I Should Have Signed A Pre-Nup

So I was at a wedding last week. Don't worry, not mine. The single me is still in tact. Like I'm sure most of you are worried about.

No worries though, I'm still here.

Anyway, I was making my rounds at this wedding, and it was a grand occasion. One of my better friends, VRM Garth Shiftyeyes had finally taken his girl to the altar after close to two years of dating. They are a happy couple, an exciting couple, a couple that is madly and deeply in L-word. And while I stood on the side and watched him serenade her with "If Tomorrow Never Comes" I will say I felt overjoyed and happy for the duo.

While I was driving home that night I did however get to thinking about if a certain someone would have showed up at that reception as well. That someone who might have been a mutual friend of the Garth Shiftyeyes newlyweds. A someone who I might have dated and broken up with in the infamous "text-gate" scandal over six months ago; the Ginger Aggie.

It really wouldn't have been that big of a deal, I respect her and hopefully likewise, but I will say that the awkward bells might have been ringing in the background if we were to randomly bump into each other on the dance floor that night at the reception.

Swamp Thing: confused/perplexed/WTF look across my face "Oh...uh...hi. How are you uh...doing?"

Ginger Aggie: confused/perplexed/WTF look across her face "Uh, good. How uh, are you?"

Swamp Thing: "I'm uh, doing alright. Can't complain."

Ginger Aggie: "Yeah, neither can I."

It was at this point when the awkwardness would have been addressed.

Swamp Thing: "So uh, I didn't know that you'd be coming to the reception tonight. I mean, Garth Shiftyeyes and his wife were kinda like my friends to begin with."

Ginger Aggie: "Yeah, I know, so what? I knew her better than you did. I just thought I would show my support."

Swamp Thing: "Yeah, but they were my friends first."

Ginger Aggie: "So? That doesn't mean that you own them or anything!"

It was at this point when an all out mudslinging brawl would have erupted on the dance floor with the Elton John tune "Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting" ringing boldly in the background.

I use this fictional situation as an example of the mess that sometimes affects people once the relationship papers have been ripped up between them. It can be a sticky situation brewing if no boundaries have been set in stone as to who's property is who's, especially if that property is a victimless couple celebrating their nuptials.

Is there necessarily a right or wrong answer in these types of circumstances? Sure I may have known the couple first, but just because my relationship with the Ginger Aggie didn't progress does not mean that I can take my friends and go home with them as if I'm temper tantrum tossing third grader on the playground.

Young Swamp Thing: "NO! These are my friends! Mine! You can't have them!"

The maximum of awkward to say the least. And I think this awkwardness is approached on a constant basis whenever a serious relationship comes to a halt. Whether it's mutual friends, mutual pastimes, or a ragged old pair of blue basketball shorts, lines get drawn in the sand as to who's is who's.

This is something that will always exist. Until we as a humanity decide that we're going to live asexual, single, anti-relationship lives, there will continue to be the debate as to the ownership of a particular property between two parties.

I guess it's a good thing that the Ginger Aggie wasn't there. Because if she had been, I might have busted out my pre-nup.

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Location:McKay-Dee Hospital

The DTR

Yes, those three bold letters are crucial when it comes to understanding where a couple stands in the dating process. I'm sure every one of us has had a DTR at some point in time. And I'm sure it was probably as awkward as could be whenever this acronym happens. For the record the letters DTR stand for "determine the relationship." Awkward, I know.

Initially, a DTR starts out with the phrase, "So what are we?" This is followed by an awkward lowering of the chin and random movement of the hand back and forth at chest level. The instigator of this conversation is not shocked or stunned by the development of the dialogue, however the opposed takes this inquiry in as awkward of a fashion as possible.

Joe Schmoo: "Uh...what are we? What's that supposed to mean?"

See the thing is, he knows exactly what she means. I have stereotyped her as the instigator, and he as the instigat-ee because on average, those genders follow the same pattern of dialogue. Normally the DTR occurs after a few dates, and few moments of physical contact. Repeated nicmo offenders are destined for a DTR, however a repeated nicmo is an anomaly in itself. Repeated nicmo's can no longer e classified as actual nicmo's.

For the record, if you do not know what the term nicmo means, browse on over to urbandictionary.com and type in the word nicmo. I promise, there will not be any pornography in doing so.

Ahh, I remember my first DTR. It was 1:30 in the morning. Myself and the Willow Diva were just wrapping up a solid nicmo session on my couch. Rolling over she turned and started making the accusations.

Willow Diva: "So...what are we?"

Swamp Thing: "What are we...what?"

Willow Diva: "You know, this." Cue awkward hand movements.

Swamp Thing: "This is...my apartment?"

Willow Diva: "No, I mean, what are we doing here?"

Swamp Thing: confused/perplexed/WTF look across my face. Is this a trick question?"

And from that point on things between me and the Willow Diva fizzled out. She wanted to know where we stood in the relationship, and I wanted to know if she was going to let me get a few winks of sleep in any time soon. The DTR is the Achilles heel in any type of relationship between two people. It sliced up our romance quicker than the creeper from Saw.

When push comes to shove the DTR is the ultimate relationship killer. If a couple has to have the DTR, then they don't know where the relationship is headed and a potential break-up is in the not too distant future.

Somewhere, the Willow Diva could still be wondering.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:McKay-Dee Hospital

The Best Advice I Never Heard

This may sound like a rushed post, but believe me, I have plenty of things on my plate currently, so the majority of my attention is not going to be focused on writing. I will however attempt to entertain you for a good solid three and a half minutes like I usually do with these posts. And I'm sure I have the ability to keep a chuckle across your face with the intro to the Week of Dating, part deux. For the record, I am saying Part Deux, in honor of the sequel to "Hot Shots", which was easily Charlie Sheen's best cinema production.

The other night a fellow comrade of ours, Johnny Trojan was lamenting about his difficulties with the women. You see, he was on the verge of accomplishing something great with a member of the opposite sex as his attempts at wooing her were working like a charm. I will say this, Johnny Trojan does have a lot going for him. That evening, myself, Chief Kent, Roger Winston Eddingbright the 3rd, and Four-Eyed Fidelito were surrounding him in our basement handing out some of the best manly advice that can be heard from a group of Dr. Love's.

Four-Eyed Fidelito: "See man, you have to have confidence when you're with a girl. You have to make her think that you could take down anyone or anything that comes in front of you."

Swamp Thing: In agreement. "Yeah man, confidence is a big one with the ladies. Plus, you have to listen to her. You will get more girls in two weeks than you will in two years if you try to get to know them, rather than try them to get to know you. That's just the way it works. Plain and simple."

Roger Winston Eddingbright: "Amen to that buddy. Listen to her, have confidence, and also be gentleman. I think that taking care of the women in our lives is a lost art, and there aren't that many guys who know how to treat her like a queen."

This is all great advice wouldn't you say? And for roughly an hour and a half the five of us gave him Dr. Love-esque suggestions on how to romance this possible relationship-ee into courtship. It was the manliest of all discussions, and in those 90 minutes I think we made some real progress with Johnny Trojan. I think we gave him some of the best advice possible from a handful of guys who have experience, who have knowledge, and who have a so-called understanding of the opposite sex.

Then it hit me like a load of bricks as I laid on my cotton sheets with my sub-conscious starting to take over. I gave some really good advice, some of the best out there. And being a communication major who has dated plenty of girls, a guy who also has 11 sisters and a feminine father, I think I am one of the most reliable, most respected sources out there in regards to "How to Date a Girl." But the thing that suddenly slapped me upside the kisser was this:

I never take my own advice. Ever.

And I think that this semi-doctrine can be applied to us all. Every single one of us may have the best opinions out there when it comes to romance, and courtship, and all of that fluffy stuff, but when it comes to actually applying it to our own relationships, we can't do it. Almost as if we refuse to do it.

I think back to the many times I have made an absolute buffoon out of myself on dating escapades. There was the time that I told a girl I felt awkward for her holding my hand (granted I had been home from my two-year trip for a solid three weeks). There was the evening when I thought that the best way to romance this girl was impress her with all of my accomplishments and accolades, (which by the way she didn't care about one bit). And of course there is the infamous text-gate, which all of you know about very well, if you've been following this blog since around March.

I am a fool. I never listen to my own proddings on how to make a lady swoon. It's almost like I have Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan sitting on my shoulder shaking their heads in disgust while belting out the phrase, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH?!" (LTT)

No, I don't. I never do. And while I may be one of the best Dr Phil/Love advice givers in St. George, heck in all of Utah, I never take my own advice and apply it to the girls that I look at as potential long-term relationships. And that is why I am still single in this pool of single women swimming everywhere around me. I can give the best advice out there. Advice that could change your relationship and your future with a member of the opposite sex. But then again, what do I know. I'm still a menace to society.

At least I'm not drinking my juice in the hood.