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.

April 30, 1999

So there I was, getting hit on by three different girls at Wednesday night’s Swing Crew show while drinking a Guinness that some other hottie bought me, when I realized that the hypothesis I’d always heard was exactly right.

In the dating world, it’s either feast or famine, flood or drought.

In “Beautiful Girls,” Paul’s always telling the fellas that all women are sisters — every last one of ’em.

So this must be some sort of test.

Saturday night, Taylor and I had another talk — another good talk. We decided that we were going out. Now this may seem somewhat obvious, but as anyone who has ever dated anyone can tell you, there has to be total agreement on the level of the relationship at all times.

So we’re going out.

That means, if people ask, I can tell them, “Yes, I’m going out with her.” Or, in casual conversation, I can refer to her as “the girl I’m going out with.” Or, if someone saw us walk by, they could say, “Oh look, they must be going out.” And they’d be right.

Sunday morning, however, is when things must have gotten a little shady.

She said she was going to “church.” I think I now know what she meant by “church.”

She was really going to the all-female meeting somewhere in the wooded areas near Slater where she informed all women that she was dating me. Then, one by one, the rest of the women in the world — either in person or by conference call — checked in with the rest of their kind to update their status.

Then, before adjourning, the main woman in charge — probably Elizabeth Dole, she was in town recently, or Juice Newton, she hasn’t had much else to do lately — instructed all single women to go hit on every guy that was happily dating someone to test their will power. And that included me.

It only makes sense.

I’ve gone nearly six months without a date, a prospect or even a second glance from someone in my class or at the mall, but now that I’m going out with someone — notice how I casually threw that in — I’m the hottest thing since Velcro.

And I know that this feast or famine thing isn’t just happening with me.

Look at Chet. He’s been in love with Sydney for as long as I can remember, and now they’re even living in sin. Something about saying that makes me giggle.

Anyway, the two are inseparable, and it’s only a matter of moments before Eddie and I will be getting fitted for tuxes to spill free beer on, yet the women love him. And I mean love him.

Every time we go out, the ladies wait in line to schmooze him. If he wasn’t such a gentleman, he’d be able to drink for free every night at the expense of poor love-stricken fillies. And he doesn’t even notice.

Then there’s Eddie. Poor bastard hasn’t had so much as a callback since we all moved in together in August, and it’s not from a lack of trying. He hits on anything and everything that moves and gets nothing but cold shoulders and frigid glares.

And it’s not that he’s an ugly guy either. Heck, he’s kinda cute. But do the women notice? Not a chance. And it’s all because he’s single.

I’d be willing to bet cold, hard cash that if Chet broke up with Sydney or Eddie somehow got a girlfriend, their respective luck would change. Girls would forget about Chet and only have eyes for Eddie. And that’s hard to say with a straight face.

Yet, why am I so sure of it?

Feast or famine.

Doesn’t that get frustrating for the females? The only guys they’re interested in can’t show interest back, and the only guys that show interest don’t have a chance to begin with.

They must not mind so much, since we’re the only ones who seem to complain. At least out loud. All the time.

But as for me, I’m going out with someone. If that means girls are going to start scamming on me all the time, so be it.

But I know that Taylor’s happy. And making her happy makes me happy. So if the sisters want to scheme, let them scheme.

Just don’t expect to wake Taylor up early for “church.”