It can not be guaranteed that any of the players in this multidimensional drama were or will be of proper age. What I can guarantee though, is that in the end, no body got hurt, and their inhabitants were totally satisfied…

Being a play on a very famous and often quite fatal pickup line, our title needs no introduction, but geez, why does this always end in total catastrophy, and at least two maltreated egos? I mean, if a guy comes up to ask you that, do you think he’s hellbound on showing you what you fell down into, or merely hinting at the marvelous place you just left, maybe because he wouldn’t mind tagging along back to your place instead of his solitary confinement? Sure, he did it to himself, but then we all do. At least he tried to get out, despite his solitary nature. And you? You still believe whatever you believe, and as such create the same reality every day. You may have turned all of them down, just because the first time you felt something other than the comfort of being nowhere in particular. Well, with proper emphasis, nowhere can become NowHere, and maybe that was how he should have started, just to make you stand to attention for a change…

"Now hear, I didn’t steal any of your clothes, even if you did leave them unattended in the girls’ locker room. I did look at you, and loved what I saw, but the light you reflect does not belong to you any more than it belongs to me. In fact it reflects off me in quite the same manner, even though you maybe observed something different than I got from yours…"

Now if that had happened, things might have gone completely different, and Moorelife might have been on a dedicated server, with a workload of exactly One. "So what’s the point?" you ask… Nothing really, because the workload is still One, the server still has its connectivity, but the has been extinguished, allowing free connections All around!

And it is still great it didn’t happen in the reality I was in then: in the local swimming pool at age ten (give or take half a digit), staring at a sweet seventeen year old who in my experience was Lightyears away. But even distance is relative: Where the light of her reflection had to travel for what seemed like an eternity, the sweet sound of her voice was distorted by the sheer Force of Her Will: 
"Hey, am I wearing something of yours?"

Anxiety was at an all time high then, as the urban myth of the subjective observer was drummed into my skull. Like Seda stared at me in Silence when I merely proposed a backup for the possible end of her relationship, I cowered away in shame, rather than speaking the words I just eloquently manifested. But hey, that’s Life: no matter how much you seem to win or lose, everything is always All right.

When given the chance to talk to this girl again, right as I was then, I’d have to decline. No offense, none given and none taken, since any higher dimension can circumvent limitations of lower Ones. In fact, any of the many beings in the many realities could be her now, or let me rephrase that:

All Are as I am….