Love Is Like The Sasquatch

You know, love is like the Sasquatch.
You don’t believe it exists at first because only rednecks and Canadians and Canadian rednecks ever claim to have seen it. But then you go on a camping trip in East Texas and something starts throwing large rocks at your tent. Rocks that, if they could talk, might say, “Hey, goober, why don’t you get the hell out of here.” You step outside and hear a deep guttural noise, something like a garbage disposal, only hairier. Then a disheveled biped, that probably smells like a wet gorilla, makes his way across the thicket and you say “Hey man, get my video camera.”
So then Jeff gets your video camera and the result is a shaky, 24-second clip featuring a shadowy figure that could just be one of the Allman Brothers wearing a fur coat. You try to tell your friends back home, but you get the feeling they don’t believe you.
You join the Texas Bigfoot Research Center and spend most of your nights patrolling the woods for evidence. Mostly, you just find deteriorated beer cans and porno magazines, which always makes you laugh because who goes to the woods to do that? But one day, you find a large handprint on your truck and you know he was just there, possibly trying to break in, possibly in order to steal the Corn Nuts you left on the dash. Since it’s the closest you’ve come to an encounter in a while, you share a round of high fives with your new friends. The money you were saving for that engagement ring goes instead to a motion-censor camera. Then your girlfriend’s pissed but you don’t care because it’s the weekend again, and there’s research to be done.
You find some rusted cans of Schlitz and a weatherworn copy of Amateur Asses, but you also find a suspicious looking pile of branches that may or may not be used as a mating ground for Sasquatches. That video that you sent into "Monsterquest" a few months back eventually makes it to air. This is the highlight of your life as an amateur cryptozoologist thus far. Your buddies from the TBRC have a watching party where you drink too much and accidentally piss on Chet’s wife’s cat. It was only a little bit, though, so you don’t tell anyone.
When you get home, your girlfriend’s gone. In her note, she suggests that you might have sex with a Sasquatch and you think, “Oh believe me, I would if I could find the bugger.” A week later, you’re in your tent, making love to a tube of Gogurt and, again, you hear something peculiar outside. So you stop mid-coitus, unsatisfied and kind of sticky. When you go out, nothing is there, but that doesn’t stop you from deconstructing the noises in your Bigfoot Research Lab (formerly your girlfriend’s closet). The noise returns the next night, and this time, you’re prepared. You put the Gogurt away and go out with Chet to investigate. You're disappointed to find a derelict with his pants around his ankles, beating it furiously to a half-disintegrated issue of Swank. When he notices you and Chet, he asks you for some money, so he can get home to Tucson, or maybe it was Texarkana. You and Chet each claim that you don’t carry cash, but that’s not true. The homeless guy probably smells like a wet gorilla but you're not going to get close enough to find out. You bid the homeless guy adieu, and he goes back to his tattered issue of Swank.
Yeah, love is like the Sasquatch.