Since every columnist has decided that they should tell a personal story that they think is interesting, I too will tell one.

Sitting in my bed with my head in my hands — wearing only briefs — I have to make a decision fast ... what to wear? I need something that will turn heads, something killer. I was supposed to pick this girl up an hour ago, but someone once told me that girls like it when you’re late. Stop shaking. My friend set this whole thing up. I have never met her before. Can she fill the void that has been left in my heart?

I shave with a Gillette razor because that is the type of quality I expect in all areas of my life. I then wet my hair and slick it back — very sexy, very tasteful. Finally, I put on a turtleneck because people look very sophisticated when they drink wine and wear turtlenecks. It doesn’t matter whether you are actually smarter than someone, you just have to look and think that you are.Sun Podcast: A podcast is available for this column. Click here to listen to or to download it.

I pull up to her apartment in Collegetown in my Ford Contour — champagne colored. I go to ring her doorbell. I don’t know whether I should give her a hug or a kiss on the cheek. People say a kiss on the cheek, but I think that is the most awkward thing in the world. When she opens the door, I decide that I should test her guts. I go in to make out with her. She laughs … I wasn’t joking. Does she know that just earlier in the day I had repped out 285 lbs. six times on squat? Maybe I should have done more crunches. Good obliques = make out session.

We drive to the restaurant. Here’s a sample of the game I’m spitting at her while on the way: “…like in the movie Hook where the kids only eat imaginary food. You can imagine all you want, but if you don’t eat real food — you’re gonna die. What fools …”

We arrive at the restaurant and sit down. I order a steak. She orders the lobster bisque. Gross. I excuse myself and go to the restroom. I come back to the table. She asks if I washed my hands. I reply no. She says that she was taught to wash her hands after she used the restroom. I say I was taught not to pee on my hands.

My phone rings. “Hey … just let dad sleep it off … eh, its going ok … what? ... no … three … yeah … lata.” She asks who that was. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.” She seems offended. I pat her on the shoulder.

The waiter comes and asks if we are going to have dessert. I kindly reply that my date here doesn’t need to be eating any desserts for a while. Of course I was kidding (but not really) and tell my date so. When the check comes, I put down the cash for my half of the bill. My date looks at me like I should be paying for the whole thing. I tell her that I am not a sexist and believe in equality.

We go back to my place. She asks why I didn’t drop her off at her place. I tell her I have a surprise. She walks into my room with 20 candles lit and Bruce Springsteen’s “Secret Garden” playing. Solid. The song ends right after we enter the room, so I run over to the stereo and press play again. She walks in and steps on a pair of my cufflinks. “Whoa, how did those get there? I see you have noticed that they have my initials engraved on them. Most of my shirts are French cuffed. Hey, you want some gum?” She opens out her hand and I put the gum that was in my mouth into her hand. She shrieks. “Ha ha, you fool! It was ABC gum.”

She says that she has to go to the bathroom. I take this chance to talk to some friends on AOL to tell them how everything is going. I open my computer and see that I have about a billion messages. My date comes back from the bathroom. I pull out my guitar and sing her a little Third Eye Blind:

I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend

And I would understaaaaaaaaannnddd

And I would understaaaaaaaaannnddd.

I then bust out a killer 15 minute long solo full of riffs, leg kicks and what have you.

The next hour is blocked from my memory. I woke up in a puddle of mud (not the alternative rock group but an actual puddle of mud) with my face all bloodied.

Turns out she was a werewolf. Didn’t see that one coming.

The End.

P.S — A few other columnists have slyly slipped in how they know famous and/or rich people. I will now list all of the famous people that I have met/worked with.

• Matthew McConaughey
• Keanu Reeves
• Roy Williams
• Al Gore
• George Bush/his twin daughters
• George H.W. Bush
• Clyde Drexler
• The wrestler Goldberg
• Kevin Smith
• Lee Trevino

Spencer from The Hills ... not really, I just hate him. “He is the most villainous character on TV in years”— my dad.

Andrew Webb is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. He can be contacted at amw68@cornell.edu. Confessions of a Mental Patient appears alternate Mondays.