All bow down before the might of kitty-Vader!

...and now for something completely different. Today's blog/lecture will be on the subject of affliction: not the World of Warcraft Talent tree focusing on damage over time spells, but, rather, the subtle, sneak-up-on-you qualities of that thing the kiddies call a "crush." (Although I suppose the differences between these two wildly different types of affliction are, upon detailed examination, minimal, at least in certain cases.)

I am, of course, writing about this particular phenomenon because I am currently being affected by it. I have a heart somewhere. (Or so the doctors tell me. However, doctors at one point believed that cutting up sick dudes and letting them leak blood for a while was a good way of eliminating illness. I've always thought it suspicious that both doctors and wardens at insane asylums wear extremely similar uniforms...but I digress.) For whom my bell is tolling is, without question, not something I plan to announce here; I am not in the business of self-inflicted public embarrassment, although one might say I am pretty good at it nonetheless. I also avoid like a plague of bacon (yes, you read that right) anything which resembles a personal ad (although I recall having stooped to that level in an earlier blog; incidentally, that goddess from the Penguins game never did wander my way). No, I choose love-sickness as a topic today for a good reason: I believe it's even more common in college than it is at other periods in life, with the possible exception of high school. In high school, though, your hormones are all wild and untrained, and they tend to run (metaphorically) around the (metaphorical) town buck naked, screaming at the top of their lungs and, possibly, painting mailboxes pink.

This kind of thing happens...metaphorically, anyway.

By college, it seems most folk have gained some degree of control over their wayward wants, and (kind of) know what they're looking for. By this I mean we begin to be interested in people we think would be good for us, as opposed to the younger mentality of looking for people who are alluring, yet terrible for us. Well, I suppose this is being a bit idealistic...the national divorce rate flies in the face of what I just said. Still, the smart people (a category into which, by your very nature, all my readers fall into; you are clearly creatures of taste and decency, knowing awesomeness when you see it) are, I think, likely to follow the progression I have outlined.

So, all that being said...what do we look for? That must change from person to person, but I know what I want. I've spent a considerable amount of time and effort finding out what I don't want, so by process of elimination I've narrowed the field down a lot. Here's a short list in what I look for in a woman now, after years of enlightening tribulations:

1. Rich.

Er, wait. No.

1. Intelligence. This is vital, and by its nature hard to describe correctly. "Smarter than a bagful of hammers, multiplied by fifty" is a loose approximation, and sadly less common than you'd think.

2. Sense of humor which, if not understands, at least tolerates the absurd.

3. Self-entertaining. Needy people make me twitch, and in a girlfriend it can be an apocalyptic annoyance. Everyone needs time to themselves just as much, and I think just as frequently, as time with their significant other...though mileage could vary on that one. I am, after all, of an independent bent.

4. An understanding of the male fascination with video games. This is critical. If you can't be my Princess Toadstool, my Zelda, my Farah for whom the Prince longs...well, frankly, what good are you?

5. And, of course, the last one, which people routinely lie about: physically appealing. It's true that there's someone for everyone (I am a living testament to this), but that doesn't mean everyone is for everyone. Some hurdles just can't be overcome. If the attraction's not there, it won't be there...period, at least not in my experience. Anyone who says looks don't matter is lying, and we all know it. That doesn't mean everyone has to be a beauty star, of course; it just means beauty is in the eye of a powerful, high-level floating orb of death worth, roughly, a truckload of experience, provided your save versus spell is high enough.

I may have meant to say "beholder" there. Do a Google Image search, you'll see. And refer to #4 on my list.

Anyway, these elements, for me, combine (like Captain Planet!) into something desirable (well, not like Captain Planet). I suppose the list will be a bit different from person to person, but the idea remains the same...find someone who jives with the numbers, yo, and run with it. If my attempt at hip-hop confounds you, that translates as "find someone who has these qualities, and hump their leg." Metaphorically speaking, of course.

I believe I have (found such a person, that is; no leg-humping has been involved, thus far anyway). Of course, as is so often the case with these matters, there is a blockade of the port in question, by the H.M.S. Boyfriend, which kind of fires a cannon volley through everything I just wrote so far as usefulness goes.

Next blog: masochism, and why we want what we can't have!