"Not Your Average Just-Starting-to-Date Story"

There was so much standing in the way. So many reasons for me not to ask her out. But I considered it a great experiment, an attempt for my Id to triumph, a rare step off the precipice of impractical desire.

And, so far so good.

During Math Camp I established some friendships with men and women, but single man that I was, I found myself checking out the women for future girlfriend material.

I was initially very thrilled by what I saw, a number of very smart, very beautiful women. But slowly I noticed the rings on fingers, heard the off-handed mentions of "my boyfriend." Best bet, I figured, was not to date within my class anyway.

A week and a half into Math Camp, we met up at Jupiter, a fabulous bar near the UC campus, where a very talented one-man-band who played a homemade electronic instrument was strumming out Cameo covers and originals about how much he hates birds. As I was watching the band, I struck up a conversation with a woman whom I had recognized as the best-looking in our class, but whom I had not yet met. She was exquisite: tall, blonde, gorgeous, fit and funny. And she liked gangsta-style hip-hop. I went home smitten.

You ever meet someone, then you can't stop thinking about her (or him)? Man, I could feel that.

The last time I had one of those was in the summer of '97. I had met a woman at work who was so hot to me: maybe the smartest woman I'd ever met, and beautiful like a Disney-drawn Snow White, and a huge pain in the ass. The more I got to know her, the deeper my crush got, but I left it alone, because we worked together. The crush became debilitating. Any idle time in my mind would turn to my desire for her. I would go out with other women but think of her. I was making fantasy plans for my life with her, like some teenage girl obsessed with a Backstreet Boy.

Finally, one night in northern California in the fall of that year, I had a soul-piercing conversation with her. I learned that she had never had been able to maintain a relationship of more than two months in all of her 25 years. It was apparent that something was wrong deep in her psyche, something that was mysterious even to her. Every man she had ever been with had turned into an enemy. I decided this wasn't going to be me, and the crush began to wane when I saw it would never be.

But the relief of the crush was worse than any breakup I had ever experienced, like my whole future had been ripped away. It took me weeks to recover.

Three years later, I wasn't going to let this happen again.