“I don't know," I said. "What else did you do for your first eighteen years?""Like I said," he said as I unlocked the car, "I'm not so sure that you should go by my example.""Why not?""Because I have my regrets," he said. "Also, I'm a guy. And guys do different stuff.""Like ride bikes?" I said."No," he replied. "Like have food fights. And break stuff. And set off firecrackers on people's front porches. And...""Girls can't set off firecrackers on people's front porches?""They can," he said... "But they're smart enough not to. That's the difference.”

“Donneven," I said, in my best Monica imitation, and he laughed. "We're not talking about me.""We could be," he said, as I watched Bert take note of a group of what looked like ninth graders who had justcome into the living room."I'm not gorgeous," I said."Sure you are."I just shook my head, knowing this was him evading the question. "You," I said, "have this whole tall, darkstranger thing going on. Not to mention the tortured artist bit.""Bit?""You know what I mean."He shook his head, clearly discounting this description. "And you," he said, "have that whole blonde, cooland collected, perfect smart girl thing going on.""You're the boy all the girls want to rebel with," I said."You," he replied, "are the unattainable girl in homeroom who never gives a guy the time of day.”

“So you're always honest," I said."Aren't you?""No," I told him. "I'm not.""Well, that's good to know, I guess.""I'm not saying I'm a liar," I told him. He raised his eyebrows. "That's not how I meant it, anyways.""How'd you mean it, then?""I just...I don't always say what I feel.""Why not?""Because the truth sometimes hurts," I said."Yeah," he said. "So do lies, though.”

“I just shook my head, knowing this was him evading the question.You," I said, "have this whole tall, dark stranger thing going on. Not to mention the tortured artist bit."Bit?"You know what I mean."He shook his head, clearly discounting this description.And you," he said, "have that whole blonde, cool and collected, perfect smart girl thing going on."You're the boy all the girls want to rebel with," I said.You," he replied, "are the unattainable girl in homeroom who never gives a guy the time of day.”

“Okay, so if that's not real, whatis? What counts, to you?"He thought for a second, then said, "I don't know. Just because someone's pretty doesn't mean she's decent.Or vice versa. I'm not into appearances. I like flaws, I think they make things interesting."I wasn't sure what answer I'd expected. But this wasn't it. For a second, I just sat there, letting it sink in."You know," I said finally, "saying stuff like that would make girls even crazier for you. Now you're cuteandsomewhat more attainable. If you were appealing before, now you're off the charts.”

“Nope.' He sat back. 'Just been there, done that. Done that getting hauled to the police station thing because of it, too.I appreciate your quest and everything, but I have to draw the line somewhere.''Wait,' I said, holding up my hand. 'My quest?'He turned to look at me. We were at a red light, no other cars were anywhere in sight. 'Yeah,' he said. 'You know, like in Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars. You're searching for something you lost or need. It's a quest.'I just looked at him.'Maybe it's a guy thing,' he said. 'Fine, don't call it a quest. Call it chicken salad, I don't care. My point is, I'm in, but within reason. That's all I'm saying.”

“I don't know," I said. "Maybe you're right, and all that stuff I think I missed is overrated. Why should I even bother? What's the point really?"He thought for a moment. "Who says there has to be a point?" he asked. "Or a reason. Maybe it's just something you have to do."He moved down to start bagging while I just stood there, letting this sink in. Just something you have to do. No excuse or rationale necessary. I kind of like that.”