My Exploration Of Quantum Making Out

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As I continue to explore my various dating options, I find myself being balked at all ends for various reasons. Some girls are dating someone else. Others may find me unattractive. Others still, simply don’t want to make out with some drunk guy at a party (a position that I find deeply confusing). This is doubly problematic when you consider the fact that I generally don’t know if the above reasons exist, having - every time - simply failed to make an attempt in the first place. Whatever the reason, the subsequent party (or dinner, or bat mitzvah) ends, and I have nobody with to split the cab fare.

At first this  bothered me, but then I realized that I may have been looking at this situation the wrong way. I haven’t physically made out with anyone recently, but is our known physical reality the only basis for quantifying some hot tongue-on-tongue action? Some of you might be  saying, “Yes, of course,” or, “Absolutely,” or “Is this just some sort of veiled attempt to make yourself feel better about being socially awkward?” Well, I’m sure those same questions were asked of Hawking, Einstein, or Newman's. I’m simply doing my best to break down the walls of ignorance.

You see, while I haven’t committed the actual act, I tend to get to the point directly before the "make out event horizon." Were I just to have the courage to initiate the situation there could be a possibility of success, but does not the act of leaving the question unanswered put the result in a state of quantum flux? Now, you might be saying “No. Not at all. In fact, if you’re referencing Schrodinger's Cat, your argument is inherently flawed as that was nothing but a thought experiment meant to point out the inherent flaws of the previous Copenhagen Interpretation.” To this I would say that going so in depth on these theories, on what is supposed to be a comedy site, is confusing and convoluted. To which you would reply with, “Dude, you’re writing an article based in quantum physics,” and I would concede the point to you.  

In any case, no matter what you might say, there is a large quantity of math backing up this theory. I mean, I don’t know anything about math (because I’m not a  nerd) but I do feel like any decision you make splits reality into possible futures. Amazing futures, with flying cars and weird Pepsi, and horrible futures where Biff is super rich and Marty’s mom has huge boobs. If this is the case, then there has to be a form of reality out there where I chose to be confident. A world where I decided that fortune favors the bull. A world where I had make out parties with all the babes across this fine nation, and was now starting the first leg of my world tour. I know this world is out there.  Now I just need to figure out inter-dimensional travel, and I’ll be set.

Caleb Finch

The TARDIS, 517 Natoma, San Francisco, Ca 94103, USA

Caleb Nathan Friedrich was born in a small coal mining town in northern Pennsylvania to his biological parents Gretchen and Ivan Friedrich. Being the Friedrich’s eleventh child, and seeing the steady decline of Ivan’s health, Caleb was dropped into the, then tumultuous, foster care system. When he turned sixteen he gathered what few items he had and set out to make his mark on the world. Forging false identification and assuming the surname Finch, he was able to talk his way into position for the world renowned San Francisco Inquisitor. He went on to become the newspaper’s longest running editor and chief, and has had many printed collections, including The Time I Spent and The View From the Engine Room. In 1943, Caleb passed away by succoming to his long and painful fight against Butt Aids. It is belived by some that his ghost still haunts different locations in San Francisco, and that it's sort of a dick.