Hi.

        I am Dickory. My high school English teacher would have reprimanded me for that (and also for the passive voice I just used). She would say the correct way to say that would be "Hi, my name is Dickory." I do not care for that rule. I have lived my life long enough to know I have become Dickory. "Dickor" is not just another word for "name." I am Dickory. I am not just a guy with empty pockets, working a bad job, and thinking of ways to fix every problem I encounter while also maintaining my status as a college student. Well, I am that but so much more. I am Dickory. Nothing else would better describe me than to just call me that. My name signifies all that encompasses it.

        I have always gone by the name of Dickory. People sometimes ask me if I would rather be called Dick. Dickory is such a weird name, or so they say. But I refuse to abbreviate my name. If I have not said it before, I am Dickory. Do not label me with a Freudian inspired name like "Dick." That is just asking for the cheap jokes to be thrown my way. At least with my current name, people can only guess at its spelling or struggle through the pronunciation. I would much rather face that problem than anything else I might have to otherwise possibly encounter.

        Overall, I am just a normal guy you would meet on the street. Sure, you might not actually meet me on the street because you are too busy trying to get to your destination. But I am the guy you pass along your way. We never meet because I am off to my own destination. My name is weird, or so some say, but only to those who meet me and learn of it. Otherwise, I am just like everyone else. At least I hope so. The guy that everyone passes on a curb and thinks nothing of him, well that is me along with hundreds of other common pedestrians. If people will take the time to get to know their fellow walkers on the journey to a job or store, they will find that everyone has something going on that is worth telling.

        This just so happens to be my story.

        With that, here it begins. I suppose I should tell you a little about myself. Like I said, I am Dickory. I feel like I am your normal, everyday guy. I am nineteen years old, which really is not a lot of years logged, depending on who you are. I guess it really just depends on how someone views time. For some, life is but a passing moment, but for others, five seconds is a migraine reinforcer on a congested interstate. For me, time is basically just a numerical figure to represent the passing of one minute to the next. I guess I never really read into it too much.

        One important thing time does signify is years. At nineteen, it is less than those older than me, but more than anyone younger. A lot of people put worth in their magical number. Oh, the great years that everyone has. Some have a lot (and are probably willing to trade a few in exchange for something that the logged years now overweigh). Some have just a few years, so little in fact that they do not even know how to count all of them on the two fingers needed.

        With being nineteen, I am young enough to be able to recall some significance for each of the years, yet old enough to feel as though they are slipping by without anything happening in my life. Well, sometimes time tends to tumble and do a few stutter steps, especially as I watch the clock tick by after I have been at work for only an hour. Whoever said art was timeless?

        Like I said, I am nineteen years old. It is the rut of all ages. I can buy cigarettes but what good does that do me if I do not smoke? I am old enough to get into most bars but still too young to drink if I were to so choose to do. I am still a teenager in people's eyes and will not be released from that stigma until a year from now. But then again, I am also an adult in their eyes, which means I am held on a different level from teenagers younger than I am. Basically, I have climbed a mountain only to fall into this weird valley. But I cannot just skip over it or take a detour around it. I am stuck here, whether I like it or not. And who was it that said they did not read too far into this time thing? Oh yeah, that was me.

        Being at this age, I do have certain hang-ups in my life (well basically everyone does, regardless of their age). And no I am not referring to trivial things like whether or not I will be elected most charismatic out of my high school graduating class. I was not, in case you wondered. Some football player received that award. (Fuck him, I actually wanted that award! What did he ever do to deserve it?) No, the things that come up in our lives that prevent us from living in a perfect utopia are the everyday things. These are the instances which are always overlooked yet always seem to play the biggest role in preventing us from achieving the highest form of good living.

        A lot can be traced back to high school (If you are older, maybe it is your second marriage. For me, it is high school). There are a lot of things in high school that serve us no good after we get out. Looking back, the only things that high school really gives us are ill-fated ideas, funny jokes, a half-assed education, and plenty of broken hearts. Most of these dry up and fall away soon after graduating, but some seem to have a time delay before the full brunt kicks in. In the instance of a broken heart, the duration of that clause can be years. For example, I saw a former classmate yesterday. We had not seen each other since graduation two years prior. She looked just as pretty as she did when we had to make that walk across the stage to receive our diplomas. But what really took my breath upon seeing her was the ring on her finger. She is married now. Of course I gave her congratulations and told her I was happy for her. The truth is that it was a crushing blow. As you will see the case to be many times over, I must explain.

        There are three types of girls, two of which that interest guys. The first are the ones a guy has no interest in. This category is a whole list of genres, sub-genres, and everything else in-between. They are a crucial part of life for males, although some may attest to that. But for now they hold no importance to this topic, so this is all that will be said about them (read any story that contains a plutonic female friend and you will see type one). The second are those girls who go on to become the proverbial girlfriend. The third are the ones who never reach that point despite all of the longing and desire that is present in a guy's heart.

        First off, there is the girlfriend. You like her enough to ask her out. You like her enough to spend a lot of your time with her. If she is lucky, you might even like her enough to spend a lot of your money on her. Basically, the girlfriend is someone you like and she fully knows it.

        When they get married (And it will not be to you, because who actually marries the girlfriend?), it is an odd moment. You say hi to her, meet the husband, and then congratulate them on the marriage. She is happy and I am happy for her. I am glad she found someone else. As I like to say, better him than me for that final step. I had my fun long ago. By the time she is married, all feelings between us have cooled to a neutral middle ground where both of us can rest in harmony. Seeing the new husband is always something special, too. Upon meeting him, there is one thought that always pops into the back of my head: "I had sex with your wife, probably more times than you, and there is nothing you can do about it!" As I am smiling at the couple, part of that comes from the tightly concealed chuckle deep within my body. It is all I can do to not make it obvious. Have at her. I got out while the getting was still good.

        But then, there is that other type. The dreaded but highly revered type. The girls who fall inside of this category are the "shoulda, woulda, but never coulda" (Yes, that is a technical term). These are the ones I secretly stare at, stumble through primitive conversations with, or just can never find the words to ask out during casual conversation. This is how it was with the newly married classmate I recently saw. These are the ones that hurt. Beforehand, there always seems to be a chance that I can eventually get said girl. No matter how dim the chance, despite how far out the reach might be, optimism would always be at least strong in secret. But when I see that ring, it is like a steel door slamming shut on my face. It is rehearsed conversations, planned encounters, and future dreams that I have to painfully erase from my conscious memory.

        Literal sex is never present with these girls. There are only the intimate moments that I privately share with myself and the thoughts of them. It would be just the two of us as we find perfect harmonic bliss amongst each other. But if a husband comes into the picture, no longer can I see myself with her. He even invades my dreams by placing his ugly mug shot over my cute, adorable, and often times charming face... what? Hey, it is my fantasy, so why not?

        So maybe the newlywed, my dream girl in high school, was not the perfect one. I always thought she was, but if she ended up with some random guy, then she obviously was not for me. I guess that is too bad. That girl was not the perfect one, but I know "she" is out there somewhere. Well no, I really do not know that. After seeing a lovely girl, who I thought to be the one for me, come and go, it really makes me doubt the preset formula for how all of this works.

        For years, I have heard that "the perfect one is out there." Perhaps it is told just to give us guys a reason not to sleep with so many girls that we eventually lose sight of the end goal. Maybe there is truth to the quote. Bullshit is what I say to that. I have lived for nearly twenty years and can say, without a reason to doubt, that quote is about as true as "sticks and stones" (words are painful).

        Let's examine the most obvious of the incriminating evidence. Supposing there actually is a Ms. Right out there (Ms., not Mrs., because then I would have to share with her husband), I have to come in contact with her in one of only four possible locations. Location one is where I work. Location two is at a pub, bar, or club. Location three is through the introductions from friends. Location four is at college.

        Location #1

        I work in a convenience store on the outskirts of a city. It really is its own town, in that small, dinky little way that everyone bonds together to feel special and all knowing of each other. Except for me. I am not from here, so I could care less what is going on or who the important people are in the town. And I work at the hot spot, the convenience store that gathers all the locals together on a daily basis. Everyday at this place, I stand at a small cash register and ring people up. It is the garden variety of people that almost always seem to bring you the proverbial bad apples when you least want them (if you ever really do want them). Aside from not being able to tolerate having to tolerate ignorant intolerance from the customers, the job has few moments of excitement. All day long, I ring someone up and bag their groceries for them. It is a futile, frustrating, boring, and ultimately worthless job. Do not tell me that someone has to do it. I already know that much. I am essentially just putting stuff in bags so people can go home and undo everything I have done. They probably end up burning the sacks, unknowingly lighting a match to my hard work. That is no appreciation for a job well done.

        Artists can spend anywhere from five minutes to five years or more on their creations. To the common eye, most appear to be just a splash of random color or lines set up to display something that would be every architecture's perfect nightmare. Yet, even as mangled as some of these pieces of "art" look, people flock to them with drooling mouths and even wetter pants. It is unneeded attention and praise. These so-called artists are usually so abstract in thought and idea that they are literal fools.

        And so this relates to my grocery bagging. I put effort into it. Each item is carefully arranged -like a painter- to maximize space, efficiency, and care for the product. I give (GIVE! Let me see a painter do that!) the bag to the owner and tell him to have a good day. He takes the bag and walks off with a smile, but I know the truth. He will throw that bag in the trashcan, or worse yet, use it for a trashcan. There is no regard for my quality bagging. In the end, I am no better than a rat running in circles for the scent of cheese.

        During this time of my never-ending struggle to maintain dignity inside of a location that strives to reduce me into an easily replaceable tool, I am steadily keeping my chin up in case this mysterious Ms. Right comes my way. If you are thinking it could be one of the people whom I work with, forget about it. The job pays the bills associated with college life, but offers nothing in the area of free eye candy. My coworkers fall into three distinct categories: the disgruntled, middle-aged man who is bitter that this is what his life has amounted to, the older woman who has lived a healthy life and now just enjoys meeting others starting on that trip, or the high school kids that work here but bitch about having to work on the weekends. I am somehow in the middle of this. I do not know how I got here, or where the people in my general age district (see: above legal age but below senior citizen) ran off to. I only know that I have somehow remained and now continue on amongst people who are now either too scatterbrained to recall the period of life that I might be going through right now, or are too young and only think they are experiencing the same aspects of life that I am.

        I cannot talk to anyone there about any of this. Ms. Right is someone who is easy to talk to. Of course, how am I to know how Ms. Right actually talks? I speak of this female as though she is a standard template that all guys look for. She is, in a way, except the template only works for one guy at a time and varies from person to person. Sure, we all see these women on television and instantly imagine how great it would be to know them, date them, have sex with them, or even allow them to have our children. That seems like all of the qualifications of Ms. Right, but it is artificial. If she is that easy to locate, then one must have obviously not found her but found an imposter. Treat it like a temporary joy, but know that Ms. Right could not possibly fall into any guy's lap. She is a game of hide and seek that could last years, if not a whole lifetime.

        Location #2

        So this brings us to the second possible location of Ms. Right. Perhaps I could find her in a pub, bar, or club. Here is the problem: I am trying to find something in an environment that I do not lend myself to, so it is then a game of trying to find someone who is doing the same thing I am doing. Would you like an easier way of understanding this? I do not drink. For compatibility reasons, Ms. Right would not be a drinker, either. So what is the point in looking for this girl in a place where the national pastime is seeing how high the bar tab can go? If I even locate a girl inside of a bar, it will require enormous research and some serious delving into. It will have to get scientific. If she is Ms. Right, she will not be there to get drunk. She will be there to find Mr. Right, or as how you all know him, Dickory. So then I will have to find out what girls there are able to process in a rational manner. By process of elimination, I can eliminate many from the very start. But, some can be there just as the designated driver. This makes them mysterious in the sense that you really cannot tell anything about them by that night. The next night they could be the ones drunk while the currently shitfaced girl is standing around with her hands in her pockets looking bored.

        The average relationship stemming from a bar meeting is the ever-popular one night stand, or a short relationship if one is lucky enough. People go to bars to party and have a good time, not to find someone to share the bills with. All a bar seems to be is a cheap and legalized brothel. People of both genders go for the sole purpose of getting laid that night. Hell, the places even serve liquid Venus Fly! When a guy offers to buy a girl a drink, he might as well say, "Hey, can I buy you something that will lower your standards enough to fuck me tonight?" And the thing is, girls accept it like kids receiving candy from a stranger.

        Fuck that, it is not for me. Finding Ms. Right in a pub, bar, or club is edgy waters to cross. In order to find one specific girl, who does not drink, yet still enjoys hanging out with her friends while they drink, takes some keen observation of people's interactions. Are they eyeing the bottles as people drink? Do they show interest? Do they have a half-scrubbed "X" adorning their hand? A person's body can tell you a lot about what they are like.

        The odds of finding a girl not like that in bars are slim to none. Then there is the repercussion aspect. What if she is looking for a guy like me in a bar yet passes me over because she guesses wrong in thinking that I am a drinker? What if she conducts the same tests on the guys in the bar, me included, but her data comes up wrong in regards to me? What if I do the same thing to her? It is just messy trying to understand all of this without doing a case study of every individual in the bar.

        Actually, the chances of this happening inside of a bar and me coming across Ms. Right are slim to not a chance in hell. Seriously, did you ever think I viewed this as a viable option?

        Location #3

        Location number three is through the intervention of friends. In theory, this one seems to be the best of all of them. Let's face it, you hang out with your friends because all of you have common interests and can therefore easily relate to each other. If one of your friends has a female friend, then she obviously can relate to you because you relate to your friend, who is the second party in all of this.

        But, as with all things, to extend something leaves it thinner and weaker in its core spots. The interests that I might not share with my friend could be the interests that he or she does share with the third party in this ordeal. Therefore, I really do not have anything to relate with to this possible "perfect one." Perhaps it could be just a small incident such as choice of music or a particular liking to Van Gogh (Rembrant for me, for it doubles as toothpaste). One might not think that these things should have an impact and I guess they really do not. But what if it is something more extreme? What if it is a decision like religion or plans for a large family (or a family, period)? These things cannot be overlooked.

        Then, there is the ever-looming fact that if she is a friend of a friend, she will always remain a friend of a friend who is dating a friend of that friend, instead of my girlfriend who I introduce to that particular friend. It is important to always make sure that lines are drawn in relation to everyone. It is better if she really is not associated with my friends beforehand so we both start off fresh and explore new worlds of friendship together. Not only can it bring us closer, but also broaden our horizons in way of more friends.

        There is the unspoken rule that you can only date girls who you are not friends with. So you start fresh with each new possible candidate for dating. From the very start, it is clear that you are asking them out to date them. It is when you try to date friends of your friends does this system get messed up, because then it is expanding friendships and not adding a new dimension into your life. The question of "is he just wanting to be my friend, too?" comes up, which is never a good thing to have.

        I can see how some might think having a friend introduce someone to me could be a good thing, but there are obviously too many downsides for it to be a true option. I would much rather be friends with the friend of that friend instead of having to wade waters into a land where my buddy knows more about my girlfriend than I do.

        Location #4

        This one is the most plentiful, but also the location most random in its means of attainment. Of course I am now speaking of college, the home of spontaneous marriages and even more available sex. For example, in an average school of ten thousand students there can be five thousand different girls roaming the campus at once, if not more than that. Surely that means inside of that large number, there can be at least one person who I am destined for, right?

        Nope, the flaws are glaring. First off, there are only so many places one can get to know girls in college. Class is one ideal place. There are always lots of different single girls in classes. But the thing is, in order for that particular Ms. Right to be in one of those classes, she would need either to share my major or at least have a similar one as I. Now I understand that the first two years of college are basic general education classes that everyone takes, but seeing as how everyone needs those classes, there is always a large amount available each semester. This points to statistics showing the probability of her being in the same one as I am in are not real good. The classes get defined and smaller as one moves up the years logged in college, but they also become more specific and it is a lost chance of her ending up in the class.

        She could always be introduced to me through a friend from college, yet this option is instantly voided out due to location three, in which I have already described.

        Of course, this is all assuming that Ms. Right and I even go to the same college! Who is to say she does? What if my choice of major is strongly supported at my school, but a different school offers her more support so she went there? How am I to ever know where she went? How am I to even know who she is?

        This brings up an idea much different from the four locations. I have concluded that there is no one certain Ms. Right, but there are actually a whole assortment of them scattered throughout the world and I only have to find one of them in order to achieve my goal. One can rest in California, perhaps one in New York, and maybe one in my hometown, but six more can be scattered throughout the rest of the world. If by some random instance I happen to meet one of them, the rest are instantly voided out and I will never know the difference (unless something horrid like death or her whining comes up... then I will have to reopen that list). I like this theory a lot and it really helps ease my mind. Of course it has flaws, or more specifically, challenges, but what does not? I cannot really plan out the encounter with this girl anyway. It will have to happen by fate, as much as I hate to realize that. Fate has a way of happening by... well... fate. You cannot control it and that is where I lose control.

        It gets even worse when there are no evident signs of whether or not this girl is actually the one. When she is the one, you will know. That is what I always hear. Well, it takes trial and error to know for sure. I can have a nice date with a girl and go home feeling confident. But give me a day and I will start rehashing the date. My mind fills up with an enormous amount of questions, which are as follows (but not limited to): "Why did she say this?" "What did she mean by that?" "Is a hug, but no kiss, a sign of a decent date but not one worth repeating?"

        Shit, my mind never takes a day off. From the things I think, I have come to a conclusion that dating is too much stress on the nerves for it to be something as simple as having to read body language and shifting through the differences in the genders. To hell with that. Say hello to a concept of instilling dating standards. Formalization of dating is what needs to be implemented in order for people not to send crossed signals and misunderstood emotions. Hey, we are dealing with an important topic here (the perfect one), so there need not be any glitches in the system.

        But before this dating standard can even be utilized, people need to learn how to quit being polite cunts and start expressing exactly how they feel. If everyone was honest in this world, all confusion would be erased and I wager to bet that a lot of crime would be nonexistent.

        Okay, here is why people should learn to be honest, and if needs be, brutally honest. I propose that dating surveys be issued to anyone who goes out on a date. I cannot help anyone get a date, and if people will implement the honesty idea, maybe time will not be wasted chasing after a girl you will never get a date with anyway. But, to the idea of the surveys, after each date, a survey containing a list of ten to twenty questions shall be traded between the couple. I am only one man with one opinion, and a voting process would probably be best to decide on what these exact questions shall be, but I still have my own ideas of what they could be. These questions would include such things as: "Was he/she courteous and interested in my point of view of things?" "Was he/she dressed according to the standards that I, myself, exhibited on the date?" "Was he/she clean and did he/she appear to have a firm grasp on proper hygiene techniques?" "Did I have moments where I felt I could not relate to this person and could only sit in silence as I thought of how to change that?" "Did he/she come on to me sexually in a way that I do not yet feel comfortable with?" It is your garden variety of questions. Everyone ponders what the other person thought about the date after it concludes (At least I do. Would I be the only candidate for this new program?). I am sure you could add a few of your own and then submit them to the question pool for when the voting begins on which questions need to be asked on the survey.

        Once the questions are answered, a comment box will be at the bottom for any additional information that is deemed fit to put there. Then, finished surveys are traded and the date is over. From there, both people know what they done right and wrong on the date, eliminating any weird thoughts and questions of what the other's perception is of them. They instantly know. Now they have the information needed to make the next date better (provided, of course, they both circled "yes" to the final question: "Would you date this person again?" Yes, this one must be the final question on the survey and its importance of being placed on the survey ranks as high as the actual survey's importance.)

        After four weeks of dating or after six total dates, whichever comes first, the surveys will be collected and a progress report will be given. Keep in mind, this is not the report card but just an update on what grade you are scheduled to receive should you keep up exactly as you have been. Also bear in mind that none of this is binding, for at any time, either person can circle the last question "no" and dating will be no more. There will also be no questions of why the person does not want to date you, for you will only need to refer to the surveys for your answers. Remember, they were being completely honest while answering them and it is your own fucking fault for not paying attention to how they were responding.

        Now, after three progress reports, you will have a good idea on where you stand with this person. If needed, there is the last minute chance for bonus credit. This can be in various forms, although it cannot be standard gift giving. If you want to give her flowers on a random day, it is a nice thought and probably will help your survey results. But is this a way to get extra credit? No way. It takes creativity. Send her the flowers, but not in one bundle. Send part of the arrangement to where she works. Include half of an original poem (if you want to be good, learn some grammar skills). For mystery, have it end halfway through a sentence. These are style points, which count marginally toward bonus points. If you know she stops by the post office on her way home to check her mail, have the conclusion of your poem waiting in her box, but leave the name off. When she gets home, there shall be the other half of her arrangement, along with your name signing off on the poem. That, my friend, is how you can get some extra credit. Dating is a hard world, so I can not promise it will be much, but I am sure it can turn a high C into a real low B.

        Oh, and for advice on how to get extra credit with a guy? I do not know, since we are not picky. Just sleep with us one night without the need for us to ask or initiate. Surprise us. So much for a lot of advice there.

        Now, with all total points added up, it is time for the grade. If you get an A, congratulations! Those are hard to come by unless you have found someone you are totally compatible with. Or at least as much as the two genders can be.

        If you get a B, that is still a good grade. You have a 3.0 average, which says that you are doing a great job and only have a few minor things that need to be adjusted in order to reach the highest grade.

        Now if you have a C, that means you are average. And what is an average relationship? It is one that will end due to conflicts. Maybe not now, but the time is coming. You are running with a 2.0 average. That might keep you in college but hey, this is rolling the dice with someone you might spend the rest of your life with! Do you want to be happy only half of the time?

        And if you get a D, well sorry but you are now on dating probation with your partner. A minimum of three months must pass before you are allowed to date them again. This will give you time to reflect on what was wrong, and even a chance to give yourself a total makeover and be an improved person. After the time is up, you can give it another shot. But if you cannot maintain at least a C average the second time around, you fall into the category where F recipients go.

        Yes, those receiving the dreaded F. Not only are you put under dating probation, but you must enter another relationship with someone and be able to maintain a C average through one grading period. After showing that you can maintain that, then you may reenter into the previous relationship. But this is now in sudden death. If, at any time during the progress reports (much less the report cards) your average slips below a C rating, you are never allowed to date this person again. But come on, if you cannot maintain even a C average, why would you want to give it another shot? Try it out again with the person you had to date for a grading period and WERE able to maintain at least the C average with.

        The probation standards, I admit, are fairly lax. But they are here to help people, not discourage them. This system provides honest and direct feedback on your dating habits, and allows you to realize there will always be someone else out there who will be able to satisfy your needs, too (after all, how many Ms. Rights are actually out there?).

        Anyway, I am soon coming to a close here. I'm exhausted, to tell you the truth. Before you sits the systematic way in which to discover Ms. Right. I have put a lot of thought into this. For you, it is presented in easy to read text. But there is still one glaring problem that needs to be addressed. This problem makes me wonder if perhaps it is me and not "them" that are the problem. No, stop thinking of any and all likely possibilities of what this could be. Here it comes...

        I am not afraid of being turned down? no, it is the acceptance part that bugs me. Let's say that I do meet this girl, this perfect one, my Mrs. Right that I have always dreamed of. For an easy but not likely example, let's say I meet her at college. I like her enough to ask her out. But because I meet her at college that means that she might live a long way off. So I have to drive the extra distance to go pick her up. From there, I then have to drive back to the city so we can go on the date (provided that she does not already live in a city). If it is a typical date, that includes a movie and food. At the movie, there are the outrageous prices of the snack foods but she will definitely want some. So I will get her some, since it is the first date and I am trying to impress her. Then after the movie, we will go get something to eat. Again, since it is the first date, no cheap fast-food will do. It is off to the sophisticated eating places, where again, the prices are outrageous.

        All good so far, right? Well, the after effect varies on her perception of me. If she did not like me, then I am in the clear and basically just as good as when I started (minus a few dollars and plus a hopefully good time). But if she likes me enough, well that is where the problem begins. We will probably go do this all again sometime later on in the week. It is fine, yeah, but since I am a gentleman guess who is fronting the bill. So by the end of the week, I have spent my whole paycheck on dates with this girl.

        Now if we become a couple, then that means I have to devote more time to her, which in turn means I have to cut back on my hours at work. This means that the money supply from beforehand is severely cut back, so the chance of actual dates would be few and far between because I am trying to go on dates with this girl.

        Weeks turn to months. Because of all the time I have spent with this girl, I have also accidentally forgot to watch my savings account. When tuition fees come up again, I suddenly find myself without any money to pay for the following semester at college, which in turn means that I am no longer be able to see this girl. Remember, this is the girl I met at the college and used my money to further our enjoyment during the time that we had away from school. Now, I am in love with her but will have to move back home because I cannot pay for school and because of that, will never be able to see her again. So if it were not for school, I would have never met her, but if I had never met her, I could still be going to school.

        Am I scared of acceptance? No, I just like to see it from all viewpoints. Knowing all possible outcomes is vital. So I guess I am at a relationship-standstill right now. I want to move past the bullshit that was high school relationships, but I do not think I am quite ready to move into the serious relationships that eventually require the purchase of something measured in a type of food (that would be a carrot). The problem is, I know how they all end before they even start. Why begin something if you already know the conclusion?

        And with that, I am going to end here. Well, I am not going to end here. I am going to carry on in my daily life and possibly even study for a test next week. It is this story that is coming to an end, although really it is not, because everything that I have spoken of is still going on and will possibly carry on for a few more years. So no, I am not ending and this story is not ending. It is the story about the story about me that is coming to an end.

        Bye.