I think every young man fancies himself a real Don Juan from time to time. Sometimes the line between being a sweet, loving boyfriend and a sweet, pathetic stalker are very thin indeed. Legally, they are worlds apart, but in our hearts, aren’t most crimes in sort of a grey area?

The problem is that many “romantic” moments are born out of the thrill of surprise. Like when you give your girlfriend a box of candy hearts when it isn’t even Valentines Day. At the same time, being surprised can very often be frightening. Like when your boyfriend gives you a box of candy hearts with “We’ll be together forever, right?” stamped on them.

If you’re waiting for your sweetheart after her last class, you may have won serious brownie points. On the other hand, if you’re waiting for her after she comes out of the bathroom in the morning, you may have won yourself a restraining order.

For a guy with good intentions, being romantic can be a stressful endeavor, indeed. How many of us haven’t caught ourselves next to our loved one’s car late one night, looked down at the slim-jim in our hand and thought, “Gee, maybe I should just wait to give her these six-dozen roses tomorrow.”

It seems that most people’s entire concept of romance is based on the element of surprise.

Another example is the age-old tradition of “Popping the Question.” Any marriage therapist will tell you that discussing marriage with your partner before making a decision is a much more prudent thing to do. Still, many people feel that’s not nearly as romantic as getting down on their knee at Denny’s and flashing a rock.

It’s OK to pop certain questions, like, “Wanna get a pork fritter?” or “What say we play some Jenga?” Questions like “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with my dirty socks and jaw clicking” probably warrant a little discussion.

People don’t like discussing their relationships. I think it’s because a discussion involves bringing up the good and the bad. And no one likes to talk about the bad.

Everybody seems to be looking for someone with whom they will never have a disagreement. It’s then that they will have found “The one.” It’s hard to accept that in even the best relationship there are disagreements, and even all-out conflict.

After all, when everything seems perfect, it’s only natural not to want to disrupt anything. It seems like a logical conclusion.

The problem is that it’s the kind of logical conclusion that leads people to prolong relationships that obviously should have ended long before. The kind of relationships everyone talks about immediately after the offending parties have left the room.

I think most of us have cringed when we’ve heard someone explain why they’re still in a particular relationship. “I know he’d rather go to the bar than go out with me, but I love him.” Or “She just needs a little space right now, but I’m sure we’ll get back together in the end.” Think again Timmy, Lassie ain’t comin’ home.

But don’t ever try to tell anyone this. It’s a truth that can only be revealed when the listener is ready, grasshopper. Whenever you try to second-guess someone’s romantic aspirations, they get defensive — and rightly so. It’s a lot easier to make the call from outside because you’re not carrying the same amount of emotional baggage.

I think it’s safe to say at some time we’ve all found ourselves carrying a full set of emotional Samsonites. Painful as it may be while the relationship is going on, the real sting is yet to appear.

It usually comes full circle a few weeks, months, or even years after the relationship ends. You just wake up one day, make yourself some waffles and wonder, “What the hell was I thinking?”

You look back and realize that your partner’s chronic drug use and clown fetish were major problems that should have been addressed. Of course, at the time you were convinced that you were in love, and all the problems would just melt away.

A line in an Indigo Girls song really says it better than I can. “Not counting the unmarked paths of misdirection, my compass, faith in love’s perfection. I missed a million miles of road I should have seen.” (On a personal note I think I’ve missed much more, like two million miles.)

Is there any way to take an objective view on something as subjective as love? Of course not. But when looking back it all seems too clear.

So I guess I don’t have any advice of my own to offer. Except maybe that it’s important not to look for perfection; it’s important to look for reality. And why shouldn’t reality be just as good?

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Ben Godar is a junior in sociology from Ames.