I'm single. Very single. My grandmother has a better shot at getting remarried at 92 than I do based on my prospects, or lack there of, I should say. Not that I feel bad for myself. I am perfectly happy looking at pictures of my cat that lives in Pittsburgh while receiving Match.com "e-winks" from unattractive men living in the Bronx.
So, being that I am single in New York City, I keep in thinking that something Meg Ryan'ish will happen to me. Today would have been a great time for that happen...
It is pouring down rain. I am late for a conference call because the trains are running late due to "signal errors." I am forced to get off at Times Square and then walk to my office at Penn Plaza (for those who do not know NYC, this is like a 15 minute walk). As I am running up the stairs out of the train station, my foot get caught in my pant leg, and I fall completely up the stairs onto my hands and knees. My Blackberry that was wedged between my shoulder and ear goes flying, my ugly retarded FedEx duffel bag falls off my shoulder and rolls down the stairs, and I yell "F---ing S--t!!"
In the Meg Ryan movie, Patrick Dempsey would come running over with my Blackberry and he would help
me up, and we would get married.In my life, an older women asks, "Are you okay?" Other people just stare, as I awkwardly pick up my Blackberry first, then go back down the stairs to get the duffel. I look around, no Patrick Dempsey. WTF.
That's all I have to say.
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