I met Stan at my college orientation and then bumped into him periodically on campus throughout our first year. Our second year, he ran into me again and got my number. He happened to call the day after I spent the night in the hospital and I was feeling oh-so-vulnerable. He came over bearing The Maltese Falcon, his guitar, and soup. He sang me songs and kissed me gently on the cheek. We had a few movie dates after that until he suddenly stopped calling. His reason? He realized that I wasn’t going to sleep with him anytime soon. He called me on false advertising because I collected pictures of people in passion (kissing, etc) and collaged them on my walls. He didn’t understand the differences between love, passion, and fucking.