Mitt Romney is uncool. That’s why people respect him.

Sen. Mitt Romney has realized just how lame he is. Although, I doubt he’d trade his life for anything cooler.

You may have noticed that I have been MIA for the last few months. My apologies — I was working through some personal things, but I guess this article means I’m back. I’ll probably be restructuring things from how I ran them previously, but until then, enjoy. (Also, I have paused paid subscriptions for the time being.)

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Mitt Romney at peak happiness because he is surrounded by hot dogs.

I spent my Thursday morning in my LA hotel room gawking at McKay Coppins' article in The Atlantic about Mitt Romney instead of packing causing me to request a late checkout.

Nothing about the article surprised me — I had heard through back channels months ago that Romney was retiring (in part because his wife, Ann, was fed up with politics), and I knew that he was at odds with the standard bearers of the GOP. One can only imagine what happens behind those closed doors, and even though I don't know the details, I know it's not good. Nevertheless, I was reading an article that grabbed me by the collar and showed me just how much the senator from my home state had put up with over the last four years.

It's not like those last four years were easy on anyone. I'm sure I had nightmares for four months following the violent riots at the US Capitol on January 6, 2021. I can barely read the news anymore because it sends my blood pressure through the roof. Nevertheless, this article had me in awe of Romney, not in the least bit, because it showed how much grace he exhibited while under pressure to conform.

I spent a great deal of time that morning fielding friends' text messages, wondering what I thought about the piece. I can only say that Romney is the kind of man who has been preparing his whole life to make an explosive exit. Over the last decade and a half, he has made himself the pariah of the Republican Party. He lost his chance to be president — even his fellow members of the GOP attacked him for his religious faith and sometimes for being too liberal on issues. And while he can't boast that he has always been on the figurative "strait and narrow path" when it came to politics, his unwillingness to budge in his personal and professional life primed him to make the unpopular decisions no one else wants to — even when it was not politically expedient.

This particular passage in the Coppins piece stood out to me:

This dissonance soon wore on Romney’s patience. Every time he publicly criticized Trump, it seemed, some Republican senator would smarmily sidle up to him in private and express solidarity. “I sure wish I could do what you do,” they’d say, or “Gosh, I wish I had the constituency you have,” and then they’d look at him expectantly, as if waiting for Romney to convey profound gratitude. This happened so often that he started keeping a tally; at one point, he told his staff that he’d had more than a dozen similar exchanges. He developed a go-to response for such occasions: “There are worse things than losing an election. Take it from somebody who knows.” (Emphasis added)

Judging based on the reactions of friends who have reached out to me or the numerous tweets (or whatever they're called now) and think pieces I have seen on the subject, people are in awe that this seemingly despised man had the power to give an unequivocal "no" to a tempting political ideology and its rewards. I’m not shocked because I know how he got the gumption.

Like him, I am a practicing member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I've spent my life not drinking coffee or alcohol, not engaging in premarital sex (despite how much I resent being a 32-year-old virgin), and wearing comparatively dumpy clothing to swanky parties because the underwear I covenanted to wear as a symbol of my commitment to God every day for the rest of my life since I was 21 restricts me from wearing anything sleeveless or too high above the knee. All of this makes me incredibly uncool. Moreover, I have had to come to terms with the fact that I'm just not cool or interesting — and I'm okay with that.

However, that uncoolness has given me something much more valuable: The ability to say "no" and an intense amount of self-respect. I have had many opportunities to say no to things throughout my life. While this has kept me from fun opportunities, left me on the lonely outskirts of society and made me 10% poorer than anyone in my income bracket, my ability to say no is a strength, and I wouldn't trade it for another life. And people respect me for it.

Mitt Romney cursing Josh Hawley with his eyes… probably.

The Old Testament Book of Daniel tells the story of four young men from the House of Israel: Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego. When they were young, Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon, seized the kingdom of Judah, took her young men hostage, and marched them 500 miles to what was then the world's greatest city. Babylon was a center of technology, learning, business and art, unrivaled by its contemporary civilizations. Historian George Rawlings wrote that "in magnificence there is no other city that approaches to it," and that it was surrounded by impenetrable walls, moats and fortresses.

Nebuchadnezzar took Israel's best and brightest minds and trained them to be the wise men in his court. He offered them an incredible education, the best clothing, and food that violated the law of Moses. Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, who were probably only in their early- to mid-teens, risked their lives on several occasions because they did not conform to the norms of Babylon. They did not bow down to worship their gods, nor did they partake of the food or customs of the Babylonian court.

Before Daniel was chucked into a lion's den and his friends were forced into a fiery furnace, the Old Testament tells a story about them that doesn't get enough attention. One morning, after years of Israel being in captivity in Babylon, King Nebuchadnezzar woke up from a disturbing dream. The dream distressed him so much that he demanded an interpretation of it. To make things worse, Nebuchadnezzar threatened the wise men of his court with death — tearing them apart limb from limb — if they couldn't come up with a satisfactory explanation.

Daniel, however, had spent the better part of his life resisting going with the flow. This put him in a unique position where he had access to divine revelation and the power to give the king the interpretation he wanted. In a talk I heard years ago, I remember the speaker, Dieter F. Uchtdorf, saying the following:

Just think about it. How much easier would it have been for Daniel to simply go along with the ways of Babylon? He could have set aside the restrictive code of conduct God had given the children of Israel. He could have feasted on the rich foods provided by the king and indulged in the worldly pleasures of the natural man.

He would have avoided ridicule.

He would have been popular.

He would have fit in.

His path might have been much less complicated.

That is, of course, until the day when the king demanded an interpretation of his dream.

On top of that, no one would have known or cared what he had chosen to do away from Israel. Few, if any, people would have judged him for not practicing what he preached. But as he learned, what we do in private and our personal choices matter.

“Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Brontë is one of my favorite books. I don’t know if it is because I relate so much to the main character or if it’s because I’m such a sucker for a period drama, but one part of the book has impressed itself on my heart so much that I think back to it whenever I face a fork in the road.

The book’s titular character is a plain young woman who, despite living a tragic and lonely life, secures a position as a governess for the ward of Mr. Rochester, a wealthy gentleman in the idyllic English countryside. Jane finds her life at Thornfield Hall to be everything she had missed in her early life. She finds friends, people who miss her when she leaves, and she and Mr. Rochester fall in love. When it is revealed at their wedding that they cannot go through with the marriage (no spoilers for those who have not read it), Mr. Rochester proposes that they go live somewhere else and pretend they are married. No one would know the difference — they would only have to contend with their private consciences.

Jane is tempted. No one in the world cares for her except those at Thornfield Hall, and choosing against it would almost certainly set her up for a life of loneliness. As she goes through this internal dialogue, a reply pierces her thoughts.

I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man … Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth?

Once Romney retires, a certain era of American politics will end. After John McCain died in the summer of 2018, the membership of the Lonely Republicans Club™ — the unofficial organization of elder statesmen who espoused the values of conservative governance without the flashiness and unpredictability of the modern GOP — was cut in half. Former and honorary members like Harry Reid, Jeff Flake and Liz Cheney have either died, given up on the race, been voted out, or have been ideologically captured.

On paper, Mitt Romney is a boring loser. He lost his chance to be President of the United States — not even the state where he was Governor voted for him. Moreover, his own party hates him, and progressive Democrats think he’s a buzzkill. The closest to a sex scandal he ever got was his “binders full of women” comment; his favorite meat is “hot dog;” and he’s constantly the butt of the joke for his religious beliefs. Had he chosen to let his armor down, vote not to impeach Trump and carry the GOP banner to places his conscience warned him not to go, at least half the country would have lionized him for being “brave” and a patriot (whatever that means anymore) while only the other half of the country hated him.

Much like Jane Eyre, Mitt probably realized at some point that having his heart’s desire was not worth the stain on his conscience. Back in 2008 and 2012, Mitt could have made many different choices that would have given him the White House — literally the whole world. But “what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Matt. 16:26) Likewise, the number of job opportunities I’ve lost, boyfriends who have broken up with me, and parties I was not invited to seem like nothing when I can actually respect myself.

Whatever the cost of following your conscience, it impacts the people around you. King Nebuchadnezzar repented and ended his life as a lowly but spiritually fulfilled farmer because of Daniel and his friends’ influence (Dan. 4:28–37). Mr. Rochester was deeply humbled by the consequences of his actions but empowered to change due to Jane’s influence. And Mitt Romney has the eyes of the nation because he chose not to kowtow to tyrants, be seduced by the promise of power or bow to the nihilism and cynicism of modern party politics. He has the respect of those with the eyes to see what is happening, and nothing else matters.