Dating 101: Christian's guide to campus relationships

Dear Readers,

I pride myself on the fact that there has never been a game I could not master, whether it be Monopoly, Halo or even Chicken.

Once when I attended a family reunion on my dad's side, I was dared to enter a watermelon-eating contest.

I don't particularly care for watermelon, but when my cousins issued the granddaddy of all commands - the "triple-dog dare" coupled with "he's too sissy to do it" taunts - my pride prevailed and I prepared myself for the gluttony to come.

I pushed myself up to the picnic table next to my Uncle Ben, who happens to be as big as the broad side of a barn and suffered from sugar (a.k.a. diabetes, where I am from).

In retrospect, this was probably not the wisest of choices for him, but health-be-damned, it was an eating contest and this was the only thing at which he was especially talented.

He could actually inhale fried chicken. I know you may doubt me on this, but I have seen it.

Watching Uncle Ben eat was a spectacle straight from an episode of Ripley's Believe It or Not. The man could practically unhinge his jaws!

I honestly could not see over the top of the table because there were so many watermelon halves heaped into center, sitting in oceans of red goo.

Uncle Ben's eyes began to glaze as my Auntie Polly Lou began the count-down.

Three, two, one, go! I did not stop to think, chew or let alone taste.

I instinctually let my mouth glide over the top of that damn melon without hesitation.

I was untouchable! I even think I felt my own jaws unhinge at one point as one sweet, juicy mouthful after another slid down my gullet.

I felt my stomach swell and heave in protest but I was working on pure adrenaline and one by one, all my adversaries were annihilated and only Uncle Ben and I were left sitting.

My cousins were screaming in the background, "You can do it!" and I believed that I could.

I began to hear the "Rocky" theme song play in my head with every sickening taste.

Just as the crescendo of music in my head rose to a fever pitch, Uncle Ben slid unconscious into his pile of tossed rinds. I had won!

My head was dizzy with the all congratulations from my cousins and after I made sure Uncle Ben was alright, I began to revel in my victory … for all of about 15 seconds.

For the rest of the day, my dad had to forgo the pride of my win to install a seat belt on the toilet for me.

It was the worst I had ever felt in my young life. I remember every agonizing cramp and contortion.

Finally my bottom just gave up in defeat, crawled away and never returned.

To this day when someone says that I have no butt, I blame my blue -ribbon watermelon eating.

This week it seems I may have forgotten that winning sometimes comes at a high price and those games, even if expertly played, can cause irretrievable loss.

For you dearest friends, make sure your game is well played and the trophy stays untarnished by regret.

Love - Christian

crose@unews.com