Perhaps it's just a further indication of my dorkiness, but I was at a single's ward activity yesterday when I realized something rather crucial to my future in the LDS dating experience. I give you...
The Parable of the Inflatable Lobster
I was at a pool party yesterday with a bunch of the guys from my ward, and I noticed that one of them was floating rather comfortably on an inflatable lobster--identical to the one in the picture... not that it matters, but I figured it would help with the imagery.
As soon as I saw that he had the lobster, I wanted it. Two of my friends and I then made it a point to get it from him--successfully, I might add. But once we had it, fought over it, and I managed to get kicked in the teeth by one of the girls who helped acquire it, I realized I didn't really want it anymore.
Later that day, more people showed up. There was next to no one in the pool, so I got back in and made it a point to get the lobster. There was another guy in the pool who saw that I was there and decided to do everything possible to knock me off the lobster... quite successfully, I might add--which is when I noticed that this entire ordeal had quite a bit of symbolism to it.
Being in a relationship, from where I sit, is a lot like fighting over an inflatable lobster. You want one because you think it'll make life easier, more fun, more relaxing, but it doesn't. And by the time you get it you realize that, while it is nice to have, it wasn't worth the kick to the teeth you took to get it--not for the short duration of the pool party--or in my case, a summer.
Because really, I may have jokingly said, "Paul McCartney was the walrus, and I am the LOBSTER!" amidst a sea of my own giggles, I need to realize that in this situation, that actually MEANT something. When the guy got the analogy and responded with one of his own--in which I became an animal of prey--I realized that like it or not, that's the purpose of a single's ward. Dating. Flirting. Hunting that elusive, inflatable creature known as an eternal relationship.
I never intended to be that kind of lobster. And as far as I'm concerned--with a month and half left in this ward--I'm still not. But an important lesson has been learned here for next time.
Don't joke about being a lobster unless you're ready to be thrown into the pool--to come up sputtering from the chlorine and wondering what just happened.
