Grace, how are you?

You are so… orange—this is a line from the movie Legally Blonde, that I’ve seen countless of times and this is my answer right now: I am so orange.

No, I'm not a Barbie-wannabe; my Barbie dolls usually end up in my toy barbecue grill when I was a kid and I was playing ogre. I think I liked the movie because I like the love story infused in that pedicure-and-peroxide-empowerment plot. Elle Woods did everything to follow the boyfriend who dumped her and went to law school, to prove that she's something. She ended up with the silent-but-smart hottie who always made sense and was always there, and the ex-boyfriend got “dumped” in the truest sense of the word. Happy ending.

Not. Reality says it ain’t so.

I came to this realization: maybe at some point in time (usually the time when pimples pop out in screaming numbers and hormones rage so hard, your parents actually feel it even through your locked bedroom door), humans like being masochistic. How to snap out of it—well, this is something not everyone could easily do, so to actually get to this stage is a triumph you'd associate with champagne-popping or Red Horse shots in the local scene. The following are masochistic tendencies a lot of you could relate to:

People cling to what-ifs and what-could've-beens for absurd reasons such as just wanting to be depressed and get hugs ...then you dream of getting even with the one who "wronged" you even if the hypothalamic pain you are actually feeling is mostly self-induced.

You find excuses WHY you're still not together even if you've done practically every trick in the book and Cosmopolitan/FHM back issues to snag him/her--but do face the ugly truth, he/she is just NOT into you. (To girls: or he's simply a blockhead who does not deserve your attention, so move your pretty *ss on and never look back)

There's this high school fever for best friends-turn-lovers story. The hype for this is almost as high as going googly-eyed over Legolas even if you haven't actually seen LOTR just because every girl in class drools over him.

There is that pubescent fear of facing the reality that you love your best friend and would rather die than admit it because you'd "ruin your friendship." That is what those cheap girly magazines say--SO not the case in reality. A lot of marriages break up because they didn't start out as friends, so don't give me that sh*t that you can't fall in love with your best friend for fear of losing him/her. You need someone who'd accept you sober or drunk or whoever you were in your "mysterious or not-so-mysterious past."

In conclusion, people will always want what they can't have--they'd fight tooth and nail to get it. If you can’t have what you want, you’d like to at least get even. There is that sick satisfaction that is at par with squeezing that itchy pimple on your nose, and watch it "bleed to death." Yep, your crush is a pimple.

But then again, I’m way over high school, and my orange Friendster profile is just one of those crazy curved roads I like losing myself in, so don’t ask me generic questions like “How are you?”—get creative and ask me specific questions for once, okay?