I’ve been writing this column for two semesters now. I’ve sought the advice of men and women far wiser than myself. I’m taking Lee’s courtship class. I’ve visited the man on the mountain and peered into his mystic tools (which smelled strangely like fried fish and cauliflower). But none of them have been able to address my resounding concern.

I’m a single relationship columnist.

Does that sound the least bit strange to anyone else?

Because the more that I think about it, the more convinced I am that something is out of place. It just seems to me like there has to be something that is keeping me from reaping the benefits of my work within these pages.

And here’s what I’ve come to believe it is:

Girls aren’t taking my advice.

I’ve reached this conclusion after a Zaxby’s run, watching half of Serendipity, and realizing that my life is about as exciting as playing leapfrog with a midget at the moment.

Over the past year, I’ve offered advice on how to send signals, how to overcome the friend barrier, and even provided a logical argument for why purity rings are asinine.

But for all my well-researched advice, when I walk around campus, I still see purity rings on multiple hands. I still see guys and girls being friends when they could be more.

And I’ve still not been spontaneously kissed (you’re missing the opportunity of a lifetime here).

I’m noticeably upset by all of this. I’ve given you gold and you’ve used it to make pennies my children. But no time is spent without lessons being learned so permit me to share with you what the unwillingness of the female population to take my advice has shown me.

It’s shown me that every girl is like a Rubik’s Cube with their own unique color combination. You can turn and twist a Rubik’s Cube in every conceivable fashion and still not figure out how to make all the sides line up the way they’re meant to.

It’s the same with girls. We can work to solve one side of the puzzle only to realize that the other five are still in complete disarray. I’ve tried my best to solve one side of the puzzle and am now realizing that I’d have been better off taking courses in underwater basket weaving. Because girls, unlike Rubik’s Cubes, do not come with directions.

The Beatles had the process right in many ways: you twist and then you shout when you realize that the whole thing’s only gotten more complicated.

Shake it up baby.

Just remember that if you’d like to see a topic addressed either here or on the website, send an email to thefavoroflove@yahoo.com and I’ll get back to you. If you’ll drop by again in two weeks, I’ll be waving farewell to the favor of love with some final thoughts for the year!