Love as a love columnist?

By and

Well, that’s it. It’s over.

I made it through a whole semester of writing about my love life, and I managed to anger only a few people, a few times. Phew!

Even my first column garnered some criticism. An African-American woman visiting from Texas did not like the way I joked about celebrating Martin Luther King, Jr. day by watching some Eddie Murphy Saturday Night Live comedy.

My last column, “Love as a stripper?”, also offended a couple of students.

That is OK, because frankly, it could have been much worse.

For example, I could have published the story about the time I went door-to-door in my apartment complex selling dandelions for French kisses.

I chose not to write about the time I took a girl out to the county landfill to break up with her because she smelled like BO.

Then there was that striptease I performed, unsolicited, smack dab in the middle of the water fountain at the Gateway to John William’s Olympic hymn and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (that song is so inspiring).

JUST KIDDING!

I never sold flowers for physical gratification, I never dumped a girl at the dump, and the only clothes I ever removed at the Gateway fountain were my flip-flops. I would never do those things in the future, either (except maybe the flowers thing).

I just wanted to tease those out there who see the word “stripper” in print, throw a tizzy-fit and automatically assume the world is coming to an end before they read anything else. In fact, the ones that get disgusted and offended most easily probably stopped reading a few paragraphs ago and missed the punch line. I am sure they have already begun thinking of quips to make in their letters to the editor, which is utterly too bad, because they could be discovering who I am rather than attacking who I am not.

The point is, this column was always more about getting people to read it than it was about maintaining seriousness. After all, what’s so good about a life without a little joking around (come on, even electrical engineers tell jokes)? Comedy, by definition, is not meant to be taken seriously.

So if I went a little “over the top” at times, if I wrote something “astonishing” or “shocking,” it was because I thought that most of you would have to read on. This approach seems to have worked for the most part. What the approach hasn’t done, is gotten me anywhere closer to true love, for there is nothing funny about giving, serving, sacrificing for that special someone who makes you a better person than you actually are.

I’ve known this whole time what it takes to find love. It takes care and concern. It takes unselfishness and a willingness to commit. True love takes two willing hearts (and physical attraction never hurts, either).

Therefore, it is with some bittersweet relief that I end my duties as a love columnist in order to spend less time making light of love and more time making love…uh, I mean…making love happen…for me.

However, I’m sure this isn’t the end of my days as a humor columnist. I’ve had way too much fun doing this. Look for my silly face in a future issue.

By that time, maybe I won’t have to write about finding love anymore.

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