I sat in lunch, contemplating what to tell my boyfriend. My pencil wound some of my hair in a large spiraling curl. He started to walk toward me, and I smiled coyly. He smiled his usual shy grin. He sat at the table, becoming more engrossed on his dark, thick hair than he was in me. I sighed, and got to the point. “Derryl,” I stated, “I’m afraid…this isn’t going to work. I’m a free will kind of girl, and I need the open range,” I looked at him sympathetically. He looked at me with a glance that was breaking my heart, for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Okay, whatever.” He got up, and moved to a different table. Ohhhhh, that went way too well. Now all I had to do was get the guy, well, the other guy, and I’d be all set.