As I approach the classroom, I feel my face flush, my hands sweat, and my heart flutter. I walk in, sit down and lovingly take out my statistics book. Yes, Statistics. I caress this book. I long to hear the lecture on the clear, concise, and absolute meanings of statistics. I affectionately finger my index cards with relevant terminology. What a respite from research. What a break from technology. No interpretations. No virtual reality to negotiate. No avatar. No deeper meaning, just purity. This is more than an infatuation. I really love statistics. It so concrete. There are no implications, no analogies, no suppositions! Had you asked me merely two weeks ago, you would have heard moans and groans about the thought of statistics. Now, I get goosebumps and a titillation when I think of it. Could it be only because it's juxtaposed to epistemologies? Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, as the adage goes, "good things must come to an end." This crush, like most will be ephemeral. I see on syllabus that this relationship will last a meager three or four days before my time must be devoted to "disseminating research." So, for now, I'm relishing in this love affair with statistics before we must part ways.