A long time ago, there was a young man who posed the question: “If I have two bunnies, and we put them together in a bunny love shack, how many bunnies will they exponentially breed over a year?”
Ok, so that’s not verbatim, but the mathematics behind it is important. I know you don’t spend your days contemplating mathematical equations and red hot rabbit sex, but stay with me.
The word problem of the breeding bunnies was formed by Leonardo of Pisa, otherwise known as Fibonacci. At least, he is the 13th century guy who was given credit for naming the sequence of numbers that would answer the question
To break it down, in the Fibonacci sequence you add two numbers in the sequence and the following number is their sum. Ex: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, etc. etc.
I’m actually terrible at math, but in this instance, I have developed my own mathematical theory on dating: The Fibonacci Dating Sequence.
Essentially, you are at any given point in your dating life the sum of the previous parts—if you are able to take the lessons learned from those experiences and add them together. (And yes, the 1 is repeated in this sequence. We’re all young and stupid once. We get a free pass.)
The following date in the sequence—with say, a complete sociopath—combines all of the previous experiences leaving Amanda with the knowledge that she doesn’t like to be peed on and is not a fan of going out with sociopaths who lied about being engaged.
Instead of a dating learning curve, I have a Fibonacci pyramid of dating knowledge that can only culminate in one thing: me meeting someone who likes decent beer, has a functional bladder and has no lusty feelings for fish.
Yeah, there are flaws in my theory. There are people who date the same type of asshole over and over (and over) again. For them, I think there’s a missing sequence that they aren’t adding to their knowledge base. That would make it more like algebra.
X + halitosis = bad date + X
In this situation, bad breath may not seem so bad. But when X=melted all of your spoons to freebase, that would constitute a bad date. But if you forget the value of X and only remember the bad breath you get stuck in a spiral. The bad breath being the deal breaker, the spoon melting could happen again, perhaps with a different iteration such as a pesky little meth habit.
Since I have a deep loathing of algebraic equations, I’ve decided to stick with my original math dating sequence and remember the bad so it doesn’t get repeated.
Lesson learned: The most important part of bad dates is the lesson learned.