After I sort of broke up with my sort of girlfriend from out of town I started trying to find a local replacement. One of truisms of the pursuit of women is that there are a couple of ways to go up in looks and down in effort; you can go younger or foreign. Because we were essentially landlocked and all the foreign girls I knew we spoken for, I decided to go younger. There was a girl who had been flirting with me a little in one of my classes and I decided to call her up and see if she wanted to go out. She did. I set up a classic movie and dinner date. When I picked her up she was way overdressed for a casual evening out and she had a lot too much perfume on but I was flattered that she was so eager to go out with me. It showed good taste. She was clingy and cuddly and eager to laugh at all my jokes which made me feel amazing but by the end of four hours of shameless adoration I was wondering what she was into and what she liked to do. She wanted so badly to impress me that she kept trying to like what I liked, which I didn't like. My problem with women has always been that certain parts of my brain, outside of my control, really like a certain ratio of body parts to each other and it responds positively to that. The more conscious part of my brain, on the other lobe, really wants to associate with strong, independent, and intelligent women. Therein lies the rub, I knew some girls who had great ratios and were very attractive to the part of my brain that was soaked day and night in testosterone – but many of them were idiots who I could not stand to be with. Others were smart and funny but possessed a chassis that for some reason or another my poor, shallow, pig brain could not reconcile into attractiveness and I would be at an impasse. This girl was cute and nice but all she wanted was to be who I wanted her to be and all I wanted was for her to be herself and so we were trapped in a circular logic mess. The testosterone part of my brain was very impressed with her desire to cuddle and kiss and told my sassy over-analytical self-righteous 'she-is-not-very-interesting' part of my brain to shut up for a bit. That bit of brain and my traitorous body were quite firm in their insistence on just a little more of what she had on offer and we would sort out that other business later.