Editor’s note: The following is a continuing journal of a fictional college student. It is intended to be a humorous and enjoyable feature about an average Joe. Though written by Iowa State’s own Scott Jacobson, a Daily staff writer, people, places and events detailed below are not analogous to a real student.

September 3, 1999

So there I was, patiently waiting for the Barenaked Ladies to begin their show at the New World Music Theatre when Eddie asked why the seat next to me was still empty.

I shrugged, took a sip of my $6 beer and told him it was Taylor’s seat. I hadn’t talked to her since she left for Chicago with the girls, and all I could do was hope that she was all right and pray that I hadn’t wasted a ticket on her if she wasn’t gonna show.

Of course, we almost didn’t make it, seeing how we thought the show was on Sunday instead of Saturday, but we made it to the Windy City on time, set up our tents next to the interstate and found our seats at the concert. When the opening band came and went with no sign of Taylor or the girls, I could tell our quasi-date wasn’t going so well.

But then, just as the Ladies took the stage, I heard familiar screams. Taylor and her old roommate Jane and her new roommate Liza appeared out of nowhere looking just a little out of breath.

Taylor ran up to me, gave me a big hug and a quick smooch and apologized for being late. I told her it wasn’t a problem but asked where the hell they’d been.

Well, she said, it was a long story — as they always are — but they had heard the song “Indiana,” by The Samples, and figured that since they were so close, they should go. So they made a quick stop in Indiana just to buy a postcard and say they’d been there.

I was about to give her a hard time about the detour until I remembered that I’d done the same type of thing after hearing “Amarillo By Morning” so I had no room to talk. That, and I think they just got lost.

As the show went on, we slow danced to “What a Good Boy” and “Call and Answer” and sang along until we lost our voices, but at the end of the night, we still went our separate ways.

Jane was pissed because they hadn’t played “Jane,” and Taylor was confused because they played “Brian Wilson” twice. So she thinks.

But all in all, I knew that Taylor and I had spent an unbelievable evening together and that we were on the road to resurrecting our relationship.

I just wish I knew what she was thinking. Granted, therein lies the eternal challenge of dealing with the opposite sex, but it used to be easier.

I remember in junior high, if you liked a girl, all you had to do was ask your friend to pass a note to her friend, and she could mark the yes box or the no box and the answer was clear. Unless she drew in a maybe box.

When we used to go roller skating, you could tell a girl liked you if she aimed for you during dodgeball. Of course, rejection came in the form of a faked blister right before the Moonlight Skate, but at least you knew where you stood.

In my early college years, my love life revolved around house parties and formals. If I knew there was something big coming up, I’d work up the nerve to actually ask someone out. Otherwise it just seemed odd to arrange a date when there’s nothing to do around town besides dinner and a movie.

House parties were pretty much a make or break situation. When my date disappeared five minutes into my senior formal, I knew I’d be sitting out the slow songs. However, when a night would go by without a flaw, I could tell it was going to end with a late-night screening of “Aladdin.” I still wonder how that movie ends.

Regardless of my past indicators, there’s nothing to tell me now whether Taylor feels the same way for me as I do for her. And maybe that’s the fun of dating.

All I know is that because of last weekend, Taylor and I shared a moment, and whether she thinks of it as I do, I have little doubt she’ll remember the first time she drove through Indiana.