The one (who).

I've been blessed (or not blessed) with some form of a significant other since I was the wee age of 15. And even that is questionable. Did we even know what love really was at 15? It's debatable. Then again, did I know what love really was last year? Again, debatable.

Point is, I've endured my fair share of relationships. "The One" has been a figment of my imagination. Sort of like "The Line At The Grocery Store With No One In It." Or, "A Good Hair Day." Or, "The Winning Powerball Ticket In My Wallet."

It just doesn't happen.

However, I've had plenty of "The One Who"('s). And that "who" is a deal-breaker. Always.

For example, The One Who Was 16. It's self-explanatory. We were children expecting to stay together forever. No one said, "Hey, p.s., kids, you're 16."

Needless to say, by 17, I was with The One Who Went To College, which isn't too much of a problem. But by the time college begins, lives change, relationships fail. It's nearly inevitable.

And then there was The One Who Was Much Too Old For Little Me. I'll tell you what, a six-year age difference is much more significant when you're only 18. He later became The One Who Had The Temper and The One Who Had A Girl On The Side, but, that's just details. Moving on...

... to The One With The Ex. Also known as, The One Who Sat Down To Pee, The One Who Paid For My Love, and The One I Shouldn't Have Dated, but again, details. It's sometimes natural to carry past relationships into a new relationship. Things such as learning experiences, pain, etc. But literally carrying the ex-girlfriend into the relationship is something else. Words I actually heard:

TOWTE: She is my best friend. You are my girlfriend. Why do you have to be both. Why do you need to be on a pedestal?
Me: [Insert me leaving him for...]

The One Who Cheated. Ouch. Is it karma? Maybe. Regardless, this is a relationship I speak little of. It's something I expected from The One Who Was Much Too Old For Little Me or The One With The Ex, but not actually The One Who Cheated. We can thank both him and The One With The Ex for my complete inability to function in a healthy, loving relationship without panic. Thanks, fellas. Two gold stars for you.

Ahem, moving on.

The One Who Had A Secret Life. Not much I can say here other than, "Whoa." Third relationship burn in a row.

Because of him, and the others, but mostly him, I've now started taking applications for potential prospects that, among other things, ask: Do you stand up to pee? Do you suffer from alcoholism? Do you secretly love 17-year-old girls? Do you grow marijuana in your spare bedroom? Do you have a raging temper? Do you have psychotic ex-girlfriends? Do you cheat? Do you drink too much and forget your name? Do you like cats? And most important, should I date you, because honestly, I don't want to waste my time. Thanks. Sign your name after the "X."

Which brings me to now. The One... The One, what? I have no "who" to throw in there. No raging temper. No drugs. No ladies on the side (Oh please, oh please, oh please, I hope no ladies on the side). No nothing. Nothing but sincerity. Honesty.

It's just him. And me. The One.