My boyfriend Otis is basically the perfect boyfriend. First of all, his name is Otis and elevators are really cool. Also, my roommate hates him. She is evil… Satan. No, really, that’s her name. Satan says his hair smells like butter, which is true, but I’m not sure how she knows this. She didn’t say that to my face, natch, she tweeted it.

What Otis likes to do in bed, he calls fracking, because he says when it’s done right, oil and gases are involved. Which brings me to my one little issue with Otis: he refuses to participate in any form of social media. Freakish, right? I know. He says that it is the new opiate of the masses and I said that he got that from Professor Tomlin’s required mass communication class and he said that was absolutely not true but that nothing was absolute. He is considering declaring his major in philosophy.

I haven’t made up my mind yet but I can tell you now that I am not going to be a philosopher. Anyway, it’s not a big deal but after a month or so of dating, I updated our status to "In a relationship." He wasn’t online to see it and when I told him about it he insisted that being in a relationship was only possible if two people could really connect and that we are ultimately all alone. I said, "Yeah, but you are my boyfriend, right?" He sighed, which I took to mean yes.

I tried to post a picture of us online but he told me that it would ruin his political career, and when I asked him "what political career," he said the one that he might never have. I think his course load might be getting to him a little.

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The other slightly off-putting thing about Otis is that he will not kiss me. He will do absolutely everything else mind you, but no kissing can be involved because he says it’s too intimate. What he likes to do, he calls fracking, because he says when it’s done right, oil and gases are involved.

We were fracking the other day when I got a text from Satan telling me that there was a camera in the room and the whole deal was streaming. I panicked a little because of Otis’s political career that he might never have, but then I remembered that he isn’t online and will never know, so I just carried on with more dramatic sighs and back scratching and a few impressive flips—pretty sure I am going to declare a theater major even though my mom is lobbying hard for psychology.

Otis also refuses to text so I have to send messages via his pal Tom who is a bike messenger. Tom just knocked on my door and handed me a rather cryptic note: "Frack 4:15, Post-PolySci." I suppose it’s romantic, it’s just that I spend so much time texting, tweeting, and doing what normal people do, that I hardly see Otis and sometimes it feels as though he isn’t even real. I mean, we can only be together in person and let’s face it, who does that?

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