When I got into my PhD program, I told myself I would be in and out in four years. No clowning around; I wanted to be in Africa by the end of 2017.

I soon learned that the average sentence for a PhD student in my program is five years. That wasn't going to do. I asked around: How can one escape sooner?

The most frequently cited advice was securing your dissertation adviser as early as possible. For those of you not suffering through a PhD (the sane, more intelligent segment of the population), your dissertation is the beast that "nothing has ever prepared you for," to quote a mentor. But "you just have to do it."

The goal is to unearth some new knowledge that only one other person on Earth probably cares about, and it's probably because they're also getting a PhD. Don't expect your thesis to make it on the New York Times bestsellers.

To accomplish this monstrous task, you employ an adviser. Essentially this person is your Dumbledore. He or she will tell you where they think the Horcruxes are, but they can't destroy them for you. That's on you. And they also are there to tell you when you're f*cking wrong, get back in the boat, you need to graduate. And tomorrow would be better than next century.

I had some ideas for my dissertation when I came to my program, and by ideas, they were general. An analogy would be, I wanted to study cheese. That means crap when you're getting a PhD. Do you mean mozzarella? Feta? Gorgonzola? And how many years aged?

Me: "I don't know. I like all cheese."

Now there was one professor in particular who studied cheese. I decided early in my second year I wanted to work with him. But you can't flat out ask someone to be your mentor for the next three years and potentially for the rest of your life. A delicate dance must be had. You should probably meet their parents first.

Now my dream adviser has three masters - one from an Ivy League - along with his PhD. He also lives my dream life: No kids, avid outsdoorman, knows his coffee and espresso. Can you imagine a better life? He also is more reserved than me, which isn't hard to be. However, this leads to thoughts such as the below.

Me: Does he like me? Does he want to be my adviser? Wait, he's laughing at my joke. Maybe he likes me.

I promised myself I would declare my intentions by October. You know, the fact I wanted him to be my life mentor, I mean adviser. What ended up happening: "I really like cheese and would like to learn more about it."

Dream adviser: "I'm working on this new cheese aging process if you would like to get involved."

New timetable: I would ask him to be my adviser in January.

January comes around. Me: "I have really enjoyed working on the aging process of cheese. Can we work on this this summer? I mean, the rest of my PhD?" Except I omitted that last sentence.

Everyone: Why didn't you ask him to be your adviser?

1.) The last time I asked out someone was over a decade ago. Why do you think I'm gonna hop in this pool any faster? 2.) What if he says no? I don't have a plan B. And I slacked this past semester due to burnout; I'd rather ask him once I've proved myself worthy. 3.) Do I even want to study cheese? Do I want a PhD? What do I want?

In April, Dream Adviser emailed me that we needed to discuss the cheese project. I planned to go to his office hours, but this girl beat me to it, so by the time I made it into his office, I had class in ten minutes. I tried to act casual, but I had chugged a Trenta iced coffee beforehand in case I ended up proposing.

Dream Adviser: "I know we said we'd work on the aging process of cheese this summer. Do you still want to do that?"

Me: "Of course. I'll work on anything as long as I can work with you, I mean, cheese."

Dream Adviser: "Well, we could work on some other aspect of cheese. Something theoretical?"

Now in academia, "theoretical" means dissertation. This was my chance!

Me: "I've actually been wanting to talk to you; I'm sorta interested in working with you on my dissertation."

*holds breath*

Dream Adviser: "What do you mean sorta?"

Me: "Well, it depends if you're interested."

Dream Adviser: "I think it could work."

And the stadium goes wild! Ladies and gentlemen, I had an adviser!

Meanwhile, my other class had begun, but you can't run away after you get engaged. I remained in Dream Adviser's office for the next 30 minutes discussing what cheese pairs well with: Bacon, tomatoes, figs, etc.

When I finally arrived to class, my friends asked where I had been. "I just got an adviser," I said with gusto similar to announcing a pregnancy. "Expect a dissertation in nine months!" JK, we're more on an elephant's gestational cycle, which is 21 months.

And let's be real, a dissertation is probably as monstrous as birthing an elephant.