If you had read ANYTHING that I had written in journal form from 6th grade on, it would have contained some moronic yearning for finding my mate. Is it Jammin, John, Jose, Steven, Russell, Chuck, Kent, Steven, Todd, Frank, Paul, anyone? All I cared about (besides getting out of my parents home) was finding the ONE. I so feel like I have found him (hey it turned out to be a guy who speaks English!) that that topic has disappeared from my repitoire. Amazing. I mean I can't even read old diaries because it's such a gag-reflex of shit like "he didn't call me today. I'm doomed. I suppose I'm a huge loser who will never find love." As a former K-Mark co-worker once said to me when I was 16, "you'll have a hard time finding a boyfriend". Truer words. Truer words. Anyone who knows me, I'm sure can not even IMAGINE someone being happy to be with me. I mean, I have a certain charm and in certain lights I'm sneaky pretty, but I perceive most people to perceive me as I appear. I've heard people say to Mark "how do you do it?" or "I don't envy you driving by the housing projects while Martin yells at the hookers" (yes someone did say that, and I don't even conceive of yelling at hookers). Let's just say that you're right. I would have been a hard girlfriend for most of you guys. But for some of you, I would have been just the thing (although even I wouldn't have wanted to date mid-20's Kristen). Oh how I used to love turning my attention on a susceptible male and getting the ole elixir words "you're not like any girl I've ever met. You scare me". It's all moot now of course. I see myself now as having gotten the hugest, most instrumental question of my life solved. The first part is done. Thus ends another paean to my lover.