How The Other Half Lives... or A New Jared...

About a year and a half ago I did a post about what it's like to be a Jared. To this day I still maintain that it is basically true. But something has happened to me lately that has thrown a wrench into my nicely fitting theology.

I have left Brigham Young University Hawaii and the shelter that comes with it. This is not to say that the sleepy town of Laie is without it's faults, but things are different. Here many people are not members of the church and unlike Laie, the non-members don't understand the unique LDS lingo we use. (Mental note: Do a post on LDS Lingo...) Also, our ways are more foreign to others. Similarly, their ways are foreign to us as well. Yesterday I met another Jared - a whole new kind of Jared. An foreign Jared.

This new Jared grew up in Hawaii. He was not pale or pasty. He was not fat and out of shape. He wasn't a comedic genius such as myself. He was a player. A real, honest-to-goodness player. By player, I mean a player of women, of course. That is something no one ever suspected a Jared could be capable of. But this one was.

I won't go into details of how this chance meeting took place. But the circumstances of our meeting were such that I was more like a fly on the wall than a Barbra Walters Interviewer. I had heard about him first through the person who introduced me into him. He was described to me as a guy who is real confident. That was the first thing that made me question that he was really a Jared. He was also reportedly good with women. At this point I was sure that he was in no way a Jared by birth. He was not just good with women; he was the kind of guy who could get any woman he wanted any time he wanted. Perhaps he was Christened "Dirk" or something cool but adopted by parents concerned by the connotations of that name and subsequently had it changed to Jared. Who knows?

Once I meet him I could tell right away that he was good. He had a razor sharp hair cut. He was clean, trim and neat. He had a pleasing demeanor. He obviously worked out. He had a charming smile. He could be mistaken as a guy with a God complex but it was more likely to be good confidence and a healthy self-esteem. I should have asked to see a photo ID to confirm his true identity.

He started talking to our common friend and I listened in. It starts with a new girl that he has been "working" for a few days. He tells the story of the first few days like it’s the plot to a movie he is pitching. He had it all so carefully calculated. He chose to wear a shirt he dubbed “polar ice” or something like that. I was too busy taking notes on form to pay attention to details. He spoke about how coy she is. He says what she was thinking, then proves himself to be right by explaining what happened next. He tells of the text messaging session that began following the first date. He shows us her text. He carefully analyzes it explaining what the deeper implications of it are. He unfolds his next few steps and how he is capable of “keeping the ball in his court”. And judging by the past successes of this guy contrasted with my comparably weak experiences, I have no reason to question him. After a few more analytical estimations we separate with plans made to meet up for a meal.

I began to wonder. Is this what life is like for others? Is what “real life” dating is like? Is this how the other half lives? If so, is this a better route?

When we again met up, I resumed fly-on-wall status still mulling over what he had said previously in my mind. He then, upon request of others, begins telling anecdotes of recent glory. Then as he gets more graphic and detailed my mind set starts to shift. I do some mental calculations and notice that these dates conflict with each other. There are quite a few overlaps. No, he was making no mistakes in his recall. He was less than forward with these women. He was also far less than faithful to any of them. I did get to ask a few questions occasionally. As my silenced awe of respect ebbed away, I found him much more approachable. According to him the girls were all players as well and knew what they were getting into. Many of them were trying to play him as well. Perhaps he was right, but it didn’t sit right with me. Somebody was getting hurt. Nay, everybody is getting hurt whether they know it or not. I let him continue unabashed out of curiosity.

While telling of his last weekend where he almost got caught and how he lied his way out of it I saw him in a whole new light. This light was not as favorable. He put on his charming grin again. From the 3/4 profile angle I had of his face I saw what would become his middle aged wrinkles. He only had a few years left until they were permanent. I’m sure that doesn’t cross his mind much and if it does, he shrugs it off. I then saw him but was not looking at him anymore. I was looking at what it must be like to be on the inside of him. What kind of hollowness might engulf him? It seems that none of his relationships have any meaning. Even when he does sleep with someone they are often not there to say good morning hours later. Being such a player and untrustworthy means that he can have no trust for others in return. His affection is animal like and primitive, lacking the emotional connection that could sustain any long term happiness.

What comes of him when he has those wrinkles permanently? What about the ensuing male pattern baldness? What of the muscle turning to fat? Who will speak for him when his attributes once relied so heavily upon have faded away? Who will want a washed up player with not much left to offer but deception and lies? Probably the women who have put themselves in similar circumstances. They will find each other as no one left will take either.

I was right – this was a whole new kind of Jared. Not the kind of one I suspected was out there. For a brief moment I ashamedly was intrigued with this new style of Jared existence. I was looking at the other half, admiring the apparent greenness of the grass. Once I took off the rose colored glasses it was revealed to be more brown that ever suspected. No, this is a whole new Jared. This kind of Jared is dangerous. I have made my mistakes. I have my flaws and weaknesses as any do. But thanks to my already diminished looks, I would never have the capacity to be like this Jared should I ever develop the will to do so.

I was glad to meet a new Jared. A successful Jared. A Jared that actually knew how to be around women. A Jared that was welcomed to be in the Jared clan. Like all of the other Jareds, this one too let me down, ironically because of his success. Perhaps I will have to put a hold on the initiation ceremony and pennant. His buttoner will go back to the florist with sincere apologies. Production on his collector’s edition commemorative plate will be postponed indefinably. I will have the embroidery taken out of his complimentary personalized bathroom hand towels. His line of fragrances will keep the title of “Jared’s ‘Perversion: For Men’: More than a fragrance, but a force of nature” but will bear the face of myself until a more suitable spokesJared can be found.

If I were to have another chance to talk to this alternate Jared I would ask him very little: "Are you actually named 'Jared'? That's your Christian name? Can I see your birth certificate?"