Hey There, Lonely Guy

My pattern was always the same. I'd ambush my intended quarry and ask for a date. Hot on the scent, I'd sprint through the preliminaries--a movie, dinner, a walk in the woods, a late-night phone call or two--then charge into the sack for some urgent relating. Three or four weeks of eternal love later, we'd argue about something I don't remember. Not too long after that, she'd start acting like I was in the way.