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Beauty is in the eye of the Boy Wonder

As I embark on my second year of college, I must pause to reflect on the changes in my life since I first applied to the University.

A lot has changed since high school. I've made a lot of new friends, lost a lot of old ones, and I've grown two inches taller. Through it all, though, one facet of my life has remained constant: I was then, and always will be, in love with Chris O'Donnell.

Before you scoff, allow me to explain. Chris O'Donnell is perfection. I don't mean that I want to date him, marry him, or even meet him. I only mean that he is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.

Those who know me well have first-hand knowledge of my obsession. The mention of his name sends me swooning. A glimpse of his gorgeous face gives me chills. My lustful behavior is simple. Chris O'Donnell is my fantasy. But his intelligence, personality and lifestyle mean nothing to me. His face, etched forever in my brain, serves as a reminder that excellence does exist in this otherwise cruel world.

I know. It is slightly obsessive to pine away, years after Chris' last box office hit. The man indeed has been MIA for a few years - no doubt due to that no-good wife of his - purposefully punishing me by removing him from the public eye. No matter. I'd wait forever for the Boy Wonder.

Don't get me wrong. A relationship with Chris O'Donnell is not a goal of mine, nor will I ever pursue him in reality. I do not judge other men by COD standards, and I do not look down on those who don't share the same chiseled chin and little-boy smile. I will tell you without hesitation that, although I know his birthday, middle name and favorite color, I am interested in Chris only for his magnificent mug.

Now, boys, don't try to tell me that you are disgusted by this shameless display of desire. I have seen your walls covered with half-naked pictures of Vendela, Heidi Klum and Jennifer Lopez. I have heard you speak of the perfect woman (the plastic-chested, golden-tanned Barbie types). Such is not the case with me. My obsession began with "The Three Musketeers," despite Chris' ridiculous blonde hairdo. It was the genuine grin, the sparkling eyes and the exquisite dimples that did me in. In my room, Chris is always fully clothed. Chris, you see, is a gentleman.

During a recent trip to Richmond, I met a young man who literally took my breath away. As I stood gaping at this fine specimen of manhood, I wondered if it could indeed be Chris O'Donnell, Jr. Such a replica of beauty could be no coincidence - he had to be a relative. I struggled for words, wondering what to say, what to do. Should I give him my phone number? Ask him to call me? Bow down before his glorious feet? Thank the gods in heaven for this gift? Of course, I did none of these things. For me, Chris O'Donnell is not a real person. He is an idea. Why spoil my unblemished vision of him by pursuing his likeness?

You may call me pathetic. You may say I need to find a life. I disagree. Everyone needs somebody to love, right? My somebody just happens to be Chris O'Donnell.

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