“I took this guy to the bar, right? And he didn’t ask a single question about me.” Penelope says, taking a long drink of wine. You were over at her apartment, drinking and catching up. She was your best friend, talking to you about one of her many recent first dates. What she didn’t know? You were hopelessly pining over her, and listening to this was agony.

“And you know what? He was wearing these fugly jeans.” She adds, scoffing. “I guess he doesn’t have what it takes to be with a girl like me. What about you, any suitors catch your eye recently?”