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.

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February 14, 1997

So there I was, in the Hallmark section of the book store, wondering if I truly do care enough to send the very best when I realize that, at two dollars a pop, I can afford to send the very best to damn near everyone I know.

The problem is that none of the cards seem to relate to precisely the sentiment I wish to convey.

These expressions of emotion say everything from “you’re everything that makes my life worthwhile and I would rather wrestle porcupines naked in poison ivy than spend a day without you” to the one that reads “although seas of silence and years of yesterdays may separate us, my love will never leave your lonely side unless some little hottie sits next to me in speech comm. and wants to go out sometime soon.”

None of the cards, however, relay the feeling of “we’ve known each other for two weeks and I think you’re pretty fine, but I have no clue how you feel about me and I don’t want to scare you off or let you slip away, but since I’m a guy I can’t tell you my feelings straight out, and because you’re femalia and therefore much smarter than me then you should be able to figure it out on your own.”

It’s hard to believe that none of the geniuses at Hallmark have decided to tap into this market of unsurety with their creative lyrical wizardry. After all, every college guy has been at the point in a relationship where they don’t know if they’re seeing someone, hanging out with, hooking up with, going out with, dating, spending a lot of time together, just being in the same spot at the same time a lot, or just really good friends (or better yet, good friends with benefits).

Frustrated, I left the bookstore with only a free condom in hand (thus making it worth the trip) and headed home for some sage-like advice from my roommates.

So there I was, sitting on our living room couch drinking week-old keg beer and watching the Cartoon Network as I received two pieces of advice on what to do about Valentine’s Day and my half-month-long romance.

Eddie, always the tactful cynic, simply told me to blow it off, forget about it, and act like it’s any other Friday and just go get boombastic at the bar and if I happen to run into her — be nice to her.

Eddie’s cousin Chet, on the other hand, told me that if I was a good boyfriend, I would buy her a card, flowers, and possibly a present, to show her how much I like her.

Eddie’s cousin Chet is a weird guy.

Seeing as how I am far from being this girl’s boyfriend (just the word makes me shudder), I chose to disregard Chet’s guidance and ask Eddie exactly how being apathetic would benefit me in the whole relationship scheme of things.

“If you buy her a present, you’re pushing too fast,” he explained. “If you get her some flowers, she’ll either think you’re a cheesy bastard or you shacked with someone else during the two-week tenure of your relationship and lastly, if you buy her a card, she’ll expect money in it — involuntary reflex learned through years of birthdays and graduations.”

I was starting to see his point, but then again, Eddie hasn’t exactly had a barrage of women begging for his companionship throughout his college career.

So yesterday I decided to show a flash of bravery, bite the bullet, and give Monica a call and talk about what we should do the next night. I figured I’d just wing it, play it by ear, roll with the punches or any other figure of speech that means I had absolutely no clue what was going on.

After a few minutes of blah-blah-blah, how-was-your-day, small talk, I went in for the kill and asked her if she had any plans for the weekend.

“Well, actually, I have to head home for a couple days and I have to take off early Friday. Why? Oh, did you make plans for us?? That is so sweet. I’m sorry, but it’s a family thing, but I’ll tell you what, we’ll make up for it next weekend.”

Shocked and relieved, all I could say was, “Hey, that’s okay. I’ll just cancel the dinner reservations and use the other ticket for Eddie and we’ll figure something out for when you get back. No biggie. Have a nice weekend at home.”

With another week to plan something special, looks like I can do my planning while I F.A.C.

After all, honesty may be a virtue, but shoveling b.s. on a moment’s notice is a finely tuned skill.