Watch out. They are looking for you. They are going to see you coming a mile and a half away. These people are vile, shady and, most of all, addictive.

He's the one with the gorgeous eyes and luscious lips who wants to "meet for a drink." She's the size zero in the red halter top who purrs "Let's get out of here" in your ear.

You try so hard to walk away. To say "no." To never call again. But these kinds of people are more addictive than crack cocaine -- and almost as dangerous.

Welcome to Penn State -- the home of the professional hook-up artist.

Hook-up artists are an odd breed of men and women. Like vultures, they prey upon the weak. Though they usually inhabit bars, parties and frats, some species have been known to take up residence in alcohol-free venues. However, they all are mysteriously unavailable and fear commitment like it was the creation of the anti-Christ. They continuously seek out one thing: Lovers that they don't have to, well, love.

Essentially, they are taking advantage of people.

It's one thing when two people are clear on their expectations of a rendezvous right from get go. If that's your game then, playa, play on. However, hook-up artists are different. They actually promise relationships (through words or actions) to the people they are taking home on a regular basis.

Note to hook-up artists: Yes, a promise is a promise. Pretending to "forget" promises made while in a drunken stupor is not acceptable.

In this world where you can win millions of dollars in a lawsuit against a cigarette manufacturer for giving you cancer, personal responsibility is at an all-time low.

As women and men of the 21st century, hook-up artists would like to think they are exempt from all dating responsibility too. This includes liability for other peoples' feelings.

Maybe it's trite, but I find that disgusting.

So why do hook-up artists constantly scam innocent people? Perhaps they are afraid of a predicament even more nonsensical than single life: Falling in love. Relationships are not easy. Especially in college. Career goals, life outlooks and travel add extra hardships to these "pre-real-world" relationships.

On the other side of the coin: Why do people let themselves fall for emotionally unavailable men and women? Perhaps it's because they want to repair these hook-up artists. But, engaging in a relationship with someone you see as a "fixer-upper" is only going to lead to heartache.

A person isn't a '67 Chevy pick-up with flat tires -- you can't just pump up the tires and drive to L.A.

Hook-up artists might say they are searching for the perfect guy or girl. But as Carrie Bradshaw on Sex and the City once said, "Welcome to the age of un-innocence. No one is having Breakfast at Tiffany's anymore. No one is having An Affair to Remember."

Instead, to paraphrase Bradshaw, we are stuck settling for breakfast from a snack machine in Willard Building and engaging in affairs with people we'd much rather forget even exist.

Think about it: When was the last time you were on a "real" date? (Drinking at a bar or frat party to the point of inebriation does not count.) Real dates don't have to cost money, but they do cost time, effort and thought.

With hook-up artists taking over in State College, "real" dates have become more rare than mini giraffes.

In my personal, completely unscientific, random poll of Penn State students, almost no one has been on a real date since they came to State College. I don't doubt that some people have, but then again, I'm sure mini giraffes exist too.

It's a sad day when 20-somethings have simply given up on dating and real relationships.

It's not fun to watch a friend go though detox after a hook-up artist has left him/her to embark on the infamous 9 a.m. "walk of shame" on College Avenue in sub-zero temperatures after yet another hook-up with the con man or woman.

Most people I know have grown tired of watching friends become addicted to a "relationship" with a Hook-Up Artist, who promises the moon and stars, but wants nothing more than casual sex.

No one should need to see a psychiatrist to begin dating normally after leaving this little bubble we lovingly refer to as Happy Valley -- home of the professional hook-up artist.