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People often have some sort of one-way relationship with their friends, one more dominant than the other. One teaching while the other absorbs. This is very true for most of my friendships and I always felt like the one who had the lessons to give, teaching constantly and rarely absorbing anything new back. Not to say these relationships are any less interesting because I sincerely enjoy the company of all of my friends. There is just something different about one particular individual whom initially I was not the greatest of friends with, until one fateful ritual was established. I didn’t see the brilliance of this man’s perspective until our encounters were ritualized and perfected. The brilliance of a mentor mentoring his mentor.

Whoa, did you feel that? It was the rush of a thousand women as they all simultaneously picked up pitchforks, lit their torches, and vowed to never return to Self Stairway due to the misogyny of this post. “Pickup artists?! What are you thinking?” Now hear me out before I get crucified and lose my readers.

Apparently, pickup artists (PUA) aren’t all pretentious jerks who want to use sleazy methods to seduce “easy” women. I came across this article while reading Ramit Sethi’s words of wisdom and this really interested me in the topic.

Naturally, I conducted a bit of research and look, I came out just fine! I didn’t transform into some sort of fist pumping guido with a no-shirt policy (okay, maybe it’s because I’m too thin).

What I’ve learned is that these are all just normal people with the desire to better themselves as an individual. PUAs aren’t relying on pickup lines, tactics, and lies to get women to sleep with them. This comes as much as a shock to me as it does to you.

Einstein must have been very humble to believe he did not have a passion and a talent that was uncommon. Surely the man who was “passionately curious” had some sense of direction. Then again who really does?

I’ve pretty much never had any sort of direction in life or a feeling of passion. The question of “What do you want to do in the future?” always made me feel confronted. I felt as if I had to give some sort of satisfactory response to put the questioner at ease as well as my own doubts.

No one ever liked the fact that I didn’t know. I could sense their worry and sometimes pity. Oh God, poor child without direction. How was I supposed to really know? Life is complicated and scary; life’s complex. I can’t just find my passion. There’s no sign that is labeled “Passion” in nice clear font.

I have several friends who I’m proud to say that together we have an amazing friendship. I met them when I was still growing and trying to figure out who I was and they really guided me on the right path.

They’re the friends who are incredibly different from everyone else I’ve ever come across and most likely more so than those I will eventually meet as well.

The ones I can sit with at a coffee shop and just talk about philosophy or passion. The ones with the heavenly bond, match made in Heaven. The ones I can be as crazy as I want and they’d still be there to smile with me. Where would I be today without them?

I was sitting in the campus café with my friend as he recounted his mental checklist of what he is looking for in a woman; he listed qualifications for the ideal woman. The one person out of over 7 billion, the match made in Heaven just for him. I ridiculed his romanticism, but my beliefs don’t make it any less true for others looking for love.

He mentioned the protagonist Ted Mosby in “How I Met Your Mother,” a hopeless romantic who the audience knows eventually finds “the one” and falls in love. All I could think of was “500 Days of Summer,” with its much more realistically heartbreaking theme.

Perhaps I’m just cynical, but I think the idea of one out of 7 billion to be nonsense. I believe maybe there could be only one “type” that is out there for you, but statistically, there are probably thousands of this same type that would make you the happiest person on earth.

I think it’d sound silly, but maybe I can call these special types “the ones.”