What is a good answer to a girl who asks, "Why do you love me?"

Who's asking: An anonymous searcher from North America who reached this blog by putting this question on Ask.com

First of all, I have to say how discouraged I am by the fact that the vast majority of people who've landed here through search engines lately have been looking for photos of Britney Spears and Paris Hilton without their underwear. Get over it, people; you have my sorrow and my pity.

Today's questioner has my curiosity. Why does he love this unknown girl? Why does he need a computer program to help him explain his feelings?

The only correct, truthful and safe answer to this question is, "I just do." If you want to elaborate, you can say, "You fill me with wonder, and I'm happy in your presence. Doing something with you automatically makes it more fun and more interesting."

It's okay to describe attributes about this girl that you consider especially lovable, but be very careful about this. Do not say that you love her because she's beautiful, or because she's hot; one day she might not be beautiful anymore, and will you still love her then? The last thing you want is a conversation that continues, "Would you still love me if..." That can only end badly.

If this seems vague and unsatisfactory, think about it from the opposite side. What would you say to someone who asked, "Why don't you love me?" You wouldn't even think about answering that question, except to say, "I just don't. I'm sorry."

Because love, in the end, doesn't need a reason. That's the point of it.

What I Read These Weeks (special two-week edition)

Michael Crichton, Next. Not a novel, as much as a series of fictional case histories that illustrate the potential dangers of commercially-exploited genetic research. Interesting for the scientific information, but tedious as fiction.

Evelyn Waugh, Vile Bodies. Kevin Wignall recommended this as one of the best things he'd read this year, so I finally picked it up. It's a bitterly funny novel about the Bright Young Things of the late 1930s, who believe in nothing but can't help hoping for something real. I should have read Decline and Fall first, and now have to go back to place the book in its proper context.

Christopher Moore, You Suck: A Love Story. Moore wrote this book for fans who'd been begging for a sequel to Bloodsucking Fiends, his San Francisco vampire comedy. New vampires Tommy and Jody must figure out how to feed themselves while on the run from a couple of homicide detectives, Tommy's former supermarket co-workers, and a blue Las Vegas call girl who's decided that she'd like to be a vampire, too. They recruit a Goth teenager to help them, and Abby Normal (that's what she calls herself) is a most welcome addition to Moore's fictional universe. The book's ending demands another sequel, so AuthorGuy, we're already waiting -- even though You Suck isn't on bookstore shelves for another week or two.

Jeannette Walls, The Glass Castle. This memoir of a seriously dysfunctional childhood was fascinating while I read it; Walls' alcoholic father and apparently borderline mother took their four children all over the country, on the run from creditors and looking for the next big opportunity. It's remarkable that Walls and her siblings managed to survive and triumph over their childhood of neglect and near-starvation, but I finished this book with the flat, slightly queasy sense of voyeurism I often get from memoirs.

Dizzy and I are headed back to Maine today. First stop tomorrow morning is Capitol Computers, to see what they can do about my laptop. Unless they can give me a loaner, I may be offline altogether until Tuesday. If you need to reach me, do it the old-fashioned way.