A few years ago, I was in a relationship that was a terrible fit. Rather than initiate a breakup, however, I did the modern thing — I talked to my therapist about it.

At some point we discussed the idea that if a person was willing to work for it, they could probably marry half of the members of the opposite sex on the planet.

I believe he meant that the person in question would marry only one of those sexy opposites at a time, or they would really have to work.

Although I doubt I’ll ever test the doctor’s theory, it sounded fairly reasonable.

I discussed the idea with a friend, who hated it. I was pleased that it was decidedly unromantic and seemed so practical, but she was disgusted by these traits.

We did agree on one thing, though: for the sake of the human race, I should impregnate as many women as possible.

OK, she and women in general have never agreed with that, but we did agree that relationships should be somewhat practical. You should enter into a relationship when it will improve your life, and step away when it doesn’t.

Now I knew that there were millions of women out there who could quite possibly make my life better. Stepping away from one relationship and casually dating seemed to be a good plan.

Unfortunately, it was at step two, initiating my plan, that I failed. I waited months, my girlfriend dumped me, and I stalled out. That was about five years ago. It was one hell of a stall.

Honestly, I was probably ready to date only a few months after leaving the relationship, but I think I missed dating school when I was at “nerd camps” in the summer and taking a heavy course load throughout all of high school.

The only reason I fell into the one relationship was because the girl asked me out. Since then, I’ve been ready to switch roles, but failing miserably.

Just like most folks, I don’t have much trouble making friends with members of the opposite sex.

For most people this came after the World Health Organization began distributing the cooties vaccine to fifth graders, but I was naturally immune.

I would watch both G.I. Joe and My Little Pony before school started, and would discuss the shows with both halves of my kindergarten class.

Occasionally, I’d even pretend to be a character on Rainbow Brite at recess after my voice could no longer reload my arm with the ack-ack noise. But there were no tender first kisses for me.

As we all know, the inclusion of the word friend into the words girlfriend and boyfriend are sort of “gotcha”-style taunts for those who aren’t dating.

It only gets worse when you ignore the fact it’s easy to make a wrong turn when you first meet someone and end up in friend-ville.

Although I love all of my female friends dearly, I first walked up to say “hello” hoping to end the conversation with a hair-flip and a “Yeah, I guess I am looking hotter than a toaster strudel today.” Sometimes it feels as if I ran out of gas on the way to Chicago and ended up touring every old-timey shop in Amana.

Although I listened to my therapist and got ready to go on a date with almost anyone, it appears that most women, I know don’t second the notion. Or maybe, I just haven’t been asking the right half of the women yet.

Yet, musicians, friends, parents and zookeepers all are ready to say that good things come to those who wait. I feel tired of waiting. I’ve told the first three to tell me something to do instead of waiting. The fourth was too busy trying not to be eaten by lions, but I just want to find my half of the population.

Not to fall in love with, but just to share my time while we learn to make each other happy. But I know that just as I have my own standards, other folks have theirs and sometimes they just won’t match up. Or sometimes, we just don’t know where we match.

One day, I’ll crack the code and find someone who improves my life, and I’ll do my part to advance the genetics of the human race.

For now, I just have a theory and no way to test it. It’s tough to abolish romance when we all seem to be searching for it.