I’m The Gorgeous And Delightful Woman In The Movie Who’s All Alone In The World

Hi, it’s nice to meet you! Because I somehow don’t know anyone.

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I’m the beautiful, warm, funny, smart, and caring twenty-six-year-old in the movie you’re watching who hasn’t made any friends or lovers in the dynamic city of millions where I’ve lived for years. It’s almost as if I’m a blank slate, waiting to be shaped by plotlines that would be complicated by my having any preexisting relationships.

Despite my sparkling eyes, sunshine smile, incandescent personality, and pretty much every other desirable human quality, I have almost no human contact. So, I’m available to fall in love unexpectedly, or be the prime suspect in a murder. What I’m saying is, I don’t know if my future will be a romantic comedy or a crime thriller, but I’m certain that for now, it’s plausible that a sweet, bright, ravishing woman hasn’t met anyone.

The reason I don’t have a boyfriend, as I will repeatedly lament, is that I’m too busy, or shy, or zany for men to notice that I look like a fashion model. It’s like they say, you’re never more alone than when you’re surrounded by other people. That’s what it’s like for me. I’m all by myself, with no way to meet any of the attractive men who would ask me out if I so much as glanced at them. It’s a lonely existence.

I only know four people in the entire city: an old widow who feeds pigeons in the park, an old man who sells me a newspaper every morning, a flamboyant dog walker who makes sassy comments, and a workplace colleague I have lunch with, who is also sassy. No close friends, or nearby family, or anyone else who knows I’m alive.

Lately, however, even my few acquaintances are tiring of me. Yesterday, my office lunch-buddy told me, “It’s getting old. I can’t listen to your wistful disappointment every time you don’t have a date on Saturday night. Meanwhile, I’m out trolling bars for any grungy, drunk action I can find.

“I mean, what’s the problem? Join a gym. Show your face in a club for five seconds. Glance at any straight man you see. Instead, all you do is sigh, and muse dreamily about meeting someone. It’s fucking annoying.”