I'm in love. Very much in love. And it's not a she, or a he (in case you thought I was bent that way).

When I first came into my majority, I was, as most boys my then age were, sort of disoriented, perplexed and felt that finally I'd been given the key to the world. Here was I, 21 years of age, in college, doing what I had no idea I'd end up as and thinking there has never been an handsome lad as I. My parents were coughing out prodigious amounts of money to keep me studying in hopes that I'd finally make something of myself, and I was spending prodigious amounts of that money swallowing what was later to become my favourite drink. Naturally I'd not thought beyond the immediate, and if you'd asked that was all that mattered.

Then came this day that I graduated. Suddenly I was adrift with no "income". No one to tell I needed books to buy, college trips to go for, meals to pay for and transport to use. All suggestions as to financial help elicited a blank stare usually followed by 'I thought you were looking for a job'. This, I think, is when I really came into my majority. I had discovered the first rule of adulthood. 'You make your own bread'

Years later I've finally learnt to make my own bread, live my life and have an idea of what I really want to do. I've also learn to spend prodigious amounts of money imbibing my favourite drink without any feelings of guilt, or remorse. In the process all the euphoria that adulthood brought has evaporated.

And so you may ask, "What has this got to do with being in love?"

Nothing. Nothing at all.