I sure know how to pick ‘em, I thought. Every time I like a girl she has some problem worth duly noting. As I thought this, she started to yell, whine and complain about the pasta, saying it tastes bland and that it wasn’t worth the trip (it didn’t matter that it was a date, that I actually liked the food, or that I paid for it) and that she should go home.

Why did I ask her on this date anyway? She’s rude, immature, slightly annoying, blunt, ungraceful, callous, trifling, tall, beautiful, toned, sexy…I see. The outside wrapping was so…tantalizing, so enthralling that I couldn’t help myself, opening Pandora’s Box, leaving my self respect to keep Hope company. I didn’t think that being shallow and uptight would actually be a hinderance, but oh well, I know what I gotta do now. “Well, it’s been fun. See you around.” “Where are you going? This date isn’t over!” “Sorry; I’ve just come to the realization that you disgust me. Goodbye.”