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. It runs weekly, on Fridays. 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.

November 13, 1998

So there I was, slicing my Jack’s Original Canadian Bacon Pizza when Eddie’s cousin, Chet’s girlfriend Sydney, walked in the kitchen wearing nothing but a bathrobe and asked me, “So how’s Nikki?”

I hate that.

Not the bathrobe thing. Granted, it’s a bit odd to see a girl who spends an average of two hours a day getting pretty wearing a tattered plaid robe while she has nappy hair and no makeup on, but I really don’t mind. She’s got that just-woke-up-and-I-still-look-pretty-damn-fine thing going on for her.

On the other hand, I’ve got that whole only-got-three-hours-of-sleep-and-I’m-having-frozen-pizza-for-breakfast fashion statement happening, and I couldn’t care less.

Anyway, back to the stupid question of the morning.

“How’s Nikki?” What is that?

I’ve gone on three dates with the girl, one of which was to the library, and my roommate is asking me how she’s doing.

“Oh, she’s feeling closer to fine while hoping for a weekend that is closer to free so that she can make me closer to God.”

I didn’t really say that, but it would have been cool if I did.

Instead, I replied with a simple “She’s all right.”

“So are you guys going out or what?”

I’ll take idiotic relationship questions for 500, Alex.

“What do you mean, ‘going out’?”

She gave me that you-dumb-man look.

“You know, going out. Like are you two dating?”

OK, here’s what I hate about having friends that are girls asking about girls that could be girlfriends. They think I actually know something about relationships since I get along so well with so many females.

When it comes right down to it, knowledge comes with experience, and experience is only available to those with knowledge. In other words, early attempts at a relationship set the tone for my social agenda for the rest of my life.

I still remember the note in my locker: “Becky wants you to ask her to next week’s mixer.” It was scrawled in sloppy No. 2 pencil on Garfield and Odie paper. An unsigned suggestion to a confused eighth-grader set off the first of many ill-advised romantic endeavors.

The next day, I told one of Becky’s friends that I thought she was cute. Becky, not the friend.

That afternoon, one of my friends said that he had heard one of Becky’s friends say at lunch that we were going out. After school that day, I walked Becky home but didn’t mention the mixer because I was trying to play it cool.

Two days later, I found a note in my locker that said I was a jerk. I knew it wasn’t from Becky, since she didn’t even own one of those sparkly markers, but she must have prompted it.

I had seen her playing four-square with Billy from my soccer team, and they always ended up stuck on the same corner.

That home-wrecker.

Therefore, since I never had a long relationship in junior high, I was doomed in high school. Spending four years as a guidance counselor and matchmaker for every girl in my grade gave me great interpersonal skills but didn’t do jack for my romantic side.

College life is tough because every time you start feeling good about a relationship, someone — such as my scantily-clad cohabitant — asks what your status is.

Take the quiz of the morning, for example. By this time, my silence had sent Sydney storming from the kitchen, but it was still bothering me.

Are we going out? Well, we have gone out a couple times, we plan on going out again, and we both like it when we do go out.

Does that mean we’re going out?

These questions sound elementary, but it’s amazing how many well-educated people ask them.

I’d like to think I’m not a boy anymore, but I’d still be referred to as a boyfriend.

Does that seem odd at all? And at what point does one start referring to their interested party as a boyfriend or girlfriend? Do you have to clear it with them?

I think that if I ever do get into a relationship that goes well enough that we start referring to each other in possessive terms, I want to be called her manfriend.

I’ll just have to work my way up from friend to good friend to manfriend. Therein lies the challenge.

Until then, I’ll just keep checking my locker for notes.