When I was a little kid, I knew another little boy that hit on every single girl he encountered to be rejected nine times out of ten, to me it didn't even seem worth it. Rejection, it's not a pleasant emotion. "Doesn't that hurt your feelings when they turn you down?" I asked while lounging in the jacuzzi in an apartment building of which we knew nobody. I remember it like yesterday. Sweat was trickling down his forehead. It wasn't from the hot water. It was 95 degrees outside. We got in the hot water just to be funny, God Bless Texas. "Waaa Waaa! Oh. she rejected me. I'm not sure if I can go on any longer." "Oh yeah, I guess I get your point." "Oh boo fucking hoo. She doesn't like me. I'm hideous." "Yeah, you're right. It's dumb to let it affect you." "Oh, I'm just going to curl myself into a little ball and cry myself to sleep." "You know, I get your point. I feel like you're making fun of me. Can we talk about something else?" In mocking falsetto, "Oh, I'm Tomatoes, and if a girl doesn't let me kiss her, I lock myself in the closet huffing rubber cement and cutting myself for a week." I haven't seen him in quite some time. And, suffice it to say, whatever in the fuck that means, I hope he died in a terrible car crash. But, still, . . . he had a point.