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I would like to tell you about a theory I've developed, in the past two years or so, about a certain brand of people I like to call "lighthouses." This theory was developed after years spent in the company of one such member of the species, carefully observed in her natural habitat. Lighthouse people are beacons that call all the sailors in ships back to land, beckoning them in toward the light.
Now, I've had it pointed out to me (by a bunch of boys who couldn't possibly understand the metaphor) that this is not how lighthouses actually "work." These jerks tried to tell me that lighthouses are actually there to keep sailors away from particularly dangerous shorelines, because otherwise they'd crash into the jagged rocks found there. People have interesting reactions when you tell them you've never had a boyfriend and you're over the age of 21. Lighthouse people are magnetic and luminescent, so much so that even when one sailor manages to row all the way to land and climbs up into the lighthouse, the rest of the sailors will stay out there on the water, waiting for their chance to come to shore.
And I don't mean that I haven't had any major long-term relationships, or that I haven't dated anyone in a really long time, or that I've only dated people for a few months at a time. Most girls are pretty good at acting like they aren't shocked, because most of them have at least one friend who doesn't date as much as the others for whom they've learned to be uncondescendingly empathetic. Sometimes, during a couple days every month in particular, I want to spend some time lying on the floor and feeling like there must be something terribly wrong with me. They will feel that it's always best to keep an eye on the lighthouse, even if they have to come and go due to other sailorly obligations.
If you want to get technical about certain structures' designated functions, then yes, that is correct, even though I think that's dumb because people and creatures are drawn toward light and if lighthouses really wanted to keep people away from rocky shores they'd be big audio speakers that played scary ghost sounds.



Even if a few of them knew, theoretically, that the Bermuda Triangle was out there, they wouldn't be able to find it if they wanted to. For instance, there isn't anything about me that is analogous to the Bermuda Triangle's "rogue wave" phenomenon (at least I hope there isn't).
Not all of us can be born lighthouses, or nobody would ever get anything done and there would be more sex happening than you could even believe. The lighthouse might act like it doesn't know it's so popular with the sailors, but it does.
Practically everybody, except for every last person they can think of at the moment, has been single for as long as I have. I could count on my friend Colleen for a long time, but then she had to go and get a pseudo-boyfriend last year. It could be that that number only seems large in comparison to my own figures, which are so low they're practically negative. My darling, patient friends tell me that I'm still single only because I'm picky, and because I haven't met the right person yet. But what's really crazy, what's really impressive about it, is her lack of time off between boyfriends. This would feel truer if I hadn't been shut down by quite so many wrong people that I, despite my allegedly high standards, chased after.


When she's single, Rylee hardly needs to leave the apartment (or, in some of those cases, dormitory building) before anywhere from one to four different guys profess an interest in being her next boyfriend. To be honest I don't even know that I could fairly say that I've been on more than one real date. It's just that Bermuda doesn't know how to handle itself when somebody sails into its territory, because that hardly ever happens. There were a couple of times when I hung out with a boy I liked and he paid for me and we were both single so I think those were dates, but then like a week later he had a girlfriend that wasn't me and I was cursing his very existence, so it's hard to say for sure. She could sit down on the floor, be still, and wait, and I honestly believe that somebody would show up, sooner or later, to ask her out. So if a sailor DOES come around, it gets a little nervous, freaks the fuck out, and creates hurricane-like devastation in every direction around it.



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