Your mileage may vary, but they are:
The Beginning: Maybe you were good at sports, maybe you always sucked, but a semester of 4am burritos hasn't helped either way. She'll be cute, blonde, and look better in track shorts than she does make-up. Through careful deception, you'll convince her you can still play intramural soccer sans heart attacks.
The End: This, of course, is a lie, and you'll both discover that, in the strictest animal-eating/shelf-building sense, she's more of a man than you. You'll have fun, but as soon as you try to keep up with her on the field (and elsewhere), she'll be forever left with an image of you, wheezing, doughy, and begging her to slow down.
The Beginnng: Scene: An awful club with a one-word name like "Velour" or "Prolapse". You hate places like this. She's skinny, tanned, and seems to be wearing a confusing handkerchief. She starts talking to you. You love places like this. Your friend's a promoter or a DJ, whichever is cooler? She offers pills, and you desperately wonder if there's a non-alphabetical difference between "E" and "X".
The End:A few months later, you'll be broke, exhausted, and starting to resemble Christian Bale from "The Machinist". She'll pout, amused by your misery, and you'll suddenly identify strongly with those sleepy YouTube puppies. Before even remembering if the sex was good, you'll be dreaming of a world where naps are worth more than gold. Also, dinosaurs with lightsabers.
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