The editor's page.

There are few things I'm certain of (death, taxes, blah blab blah), but one thing's for sure: There are only two ends to every relationship--getting married or breaking up. And, God bless the 21st century, I'm pretty sure getting married is not on your radar screen at this point. So what does that leave? Uh-huh, you guessed it.

I'd love to say I've never been broken up with, but I have. More than a few times. Sometimes, I hardly cared ("You're a cheating cad who wants to date half the sophomore class? Buh-bye"). Other times it was so bad, it was almost comical (like Peter Moos dumping me at an assembly in front of the entire school). And, twice, it shook me so badly I almost swore off dating. The first was Jim Weaver. We were the ultimate cute couple. We met cute (at the lake!), we did cute things (threw great BBQs!), we even looked cute together (OK, he was super-cute; I did my best to hold up my end). It took us a year to realize that, while cuter than pink cashmere, we were lousy as a couple. He was an egomaniac, and I was constantly trying to figure out how to make him happy.

I guess his dumping me was a good thing, but losing someone I had built up to be perfect was an awful blow. But, after realizing I fell for someone who didn't really exist (and after burning every cute card he ever gave me), I was ready to move on.

Yet, things were about to get worse. I fell for a great guy who actually was a great guy. Nice, smart, kind, fun. Best of all, he seemed to appreciate me for me. Things were cool until he admitted that, while he was thrilled to be with a girl he respected, he liked a relationship in which she wasn't so all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips. The message was clear: He wanted a fan club, not a girlfriend. I beat myself up for months. Why couldn't I be a cheerleader instead of team captain? Why couldn't I lie and say I got a B and kiss him when he got an A? Why couldn't I just ... be who he wanted me to be.

And that's the whole truck of suck about being dumped. No matter how misguided the guy or the relationship, we blame ourselves--not him or the inevitability of breakup. Why do we set ourselves up for heartbreak? I say, let's realize all our relationships (save that one involving a day in a white dress) are doomed. Doomed!

Or not. Who wants to be so jaded that she can't be heartbroken ... a lot? It takes guts to put yourself out there, even when logic tells you not to. It takes even more guts when you've been let down by a boy or two. But, in a way, that's the beauty of it. The gutsier you get, the bigger chances you'll take. And, one day, if you keep at it, you'll take that chance on exactly the right guy.