Bog.
You've always wondered why you kept hanging out near that damn pond with the band. Gosh, you gasp, there's a reason why the cops never caught you smoking here: the annoying insects, the dirty clothes, the heavy mud, the sickening feeling and the stinky smell.
"You know what man? I'm done!" That's Andrew, the rebellious guitarist who insisted on coming with you. You never quite bothered figuring him out, thinking he wasn't such an interesting puzzle to solve but now, you understand why it could have been useful. You eye him suspiciously as he gets out of the cold water and sits on the ground, his hands held high in surrender. "There is just no way I'm doing all this for a girl and her fucking hair clip!" You stand still for a couple of seconds before you burry your hands in the dirt once again, scanning the bog for a needle in a haystack.
"Please just give up man, you lost it, never gonna find it. It's rained all night, it's cold and you have to meet with the Dean in an hour! How the hell do you think I'm going to explain that?"
Actually, the Dean has already called you, but that's irrelevant to your point. Andrew might be trying to be nice; he might also just be ambitious. Perhaps he wants you to make him the lead singer of the band once you're gone. Thing is, you don't give a damn. "I never asked you anything. Not my fault if you can't stop yourself from helping people."
An eternity and fifteen minutes later, you see him close his eyes as realization (or sobriety) hits him. "Greg, how did her hair clip end up in your pocket in the first place?"
Well, that would require a piece of information you're not willing to share with Andrew at the moment, involving details on you and Lisa's personal life. She's stunning, beautiful, smart and reliable. And you've just spent half an hour going through some dirty thick brown mud to find her hair clip because you already know that's the only thing you'll get to keep from her for a very, very long time.