I was talking to IM a few days ago when (predictably) our conversation turned to relationships. IM, the notorious bachelor, seems to enjoy the life of a bachelor but said "I want to settle down someday."

"Um, okay." That's great, what's it got to do with me?

He then continued on without any regard to me, saying "The problem with you, pseudodoctor, is that you have too many limbo guys."
"The what?"
"You know, the guys you have nowhere to tidy into, so you have the ever-ambiguous 'I don't know what this is' category."
"Do elaborate."
"Well, there's me, there's J, there's your debate partner, e.t.c., of which you don't classify them as friends, because your warped definition of a friend is someone you don't have romantic interest in and neither do they to you. You have too many of them."
"Okay, you just put me off my yogurt."
"Sorry to hear that, but all I'm saying is, stop classifying people."

Which made me think. Do I classify people? Probably. I'm rather Aristotelian. I like things packed neatly away according to categories: colour, number, width, height, e.t.c. So there are my best friends, my female friends, my male friends. And then there are a few who don't belong anywhere. And when one of them tries to wiggle out of that little box, I freak out.

It is rather a mystery, because it looks like no one has this problem aside me. Most of my friends have "romantic interest", "friends", "don't care" section, while I have "Romantic interest", "eye candy", "friend", "Enemy", "Friendly Rival", and much more in the pigeon hole, and each person is neatly put away in each drawer. And then there is one drawer in the corner that says "misc", in which people like IM are thrown in pell-mell, regardless of all the other labels they might offer.

Should I stop labeling, or should I start more minute labeling?

Pseudodoctor: I cleaned out my wardrobe, I don't have any more place to store shoes and still I want more. Is that bad?
JB: You and your shoes...
Pseudodoctor: Ooh, hold on a sec. My lipstick just arrived!
JB: You and your cosmetics...

Yeah. Have anything else to say, mister?

This concerns the ladies and therefore the guys might not want to read this, but I recently came to the conclusion that while human beings have made great advancements and can build skyscrapers, they can't make underwear that won't fall down without straps.

Yes, ladies, you know what I'm talking about.

I hate it when people walk around in tank-tops and halters with the straps showing. It's almost as if you're wearing shorts but the grannie underwear's showing underneath. It's annoying, and if you go without the straps then you always have to run to the ladies room to adjust it so it won't fall down. It just irks me.

So... Wacoal, Gilly Hicks, VS... I know you are all amazing, so can you please invent affordable underwear that won't fall down if we remove the straps? Seriously.

I went through a lot this summer, ranging from... well, if you know, you know, if you don't, you don't. Anyway, there are a few things I've discovered along the way, whether for better or for worse, and I'm hoping that I will be able to look back to this summer with a reminiscent smile on my face.

First, IC grew up. Dramatically. He must have gone through a lot more than I had expected, but he did. After not seeing him for a year, he seemed to have grown so much that he was taking care of me, not the other way around. This was jarring, but it also reminded me that guys just grow up like that; one day you see him and the roles have been reversed, and you are both emotionally and physically weaker than him in more ways than you expected.

When I first met him, he was like a little brother for me, someone I had to care for. He was more fragile than I was, more prone to shatters and breaks, and I felt that I had to watch out for him. This continued through high school, with me standing and watching from afar while he went ahead and crashed headfirst into troubles (emotional troubles, I mean). After all, we were both teenagers with teenager-problems.

But then this year, it seemed that he had graduated from my care and he was mentally caring for me. It was rather odd, since in my head I could accept it, but in my mind he was still the Freshman IC. But it hit me finally; he had grown up enough to have enough emotional leeway to care for what I was going through without involving himself to the point that he was breaking.

Or maybe he just realised that I was not the confident me that he knew so well, the one who would crash and then bounce back, but I do have breakdowns and when I do they are bigger than expected.

Even so, it was a nice change, and it's nice to have someone that I can lean on when I'm shattering.

Second, I had come to fully accept that I am a female and therefore there are weaknesses that can be exploited. It is a terrifying thought to be honest; the fact that there are some things that guys can do that cannot be prevented when it happens without any warning. I'm really glad that my friends always maintain enough self control to not do something stupid.

Third, to J, IM, and IB: thanks for being there when I was falling apart. Thanks for not giving me pep talks but just listening. Thanks for giving me your arms when I needed someone to be embraced by.

Fourth, to all my female friends: thanks for having that blind faith in me that only females can have. I won't say that's what's been keeping me going (because it isn't), but it is a relief that someone has faith in me when I never have faith in myself.

So I have learned to breathe a little. And maybe sit back and not run for once.