There's no countin' on anything these days. Here I am watching a perfectly cliched type of movie, with no seeming danger of being provoked to thought, with a perfectly cliched plot and the perfectly cliched i-hate-everyone, gothic, tangy-outside-but-soft-and-sweet-inside chick sends a chill down my spine by chirping to the perfectly cliched geek good boy when she's ditching him on a great evening to go back to her perfectly cliched charming snake of a boyfriend (and I merely paraphrase):

I feel so Lucky. You know...how there are those couples that just stay with each other coz they can't do any better. And then there are the miserable, lonely ones. But then there are a few Lucky people who get to be with blah blah (you know where it's going).

"Fuck", I succinctly say to self.

And I don't really feel too bad for the perfectly cliched geek good boy coz I know he's getting the girl in another fifteen minutes approximately. Guess who I'm feeling bad for. Could it be a certain old, warted woman in an old age home, driving her senile roomie crazy coz she gnashes her teeth in her sleep, entirely unable to cope with an unfulfilled fantasy.

Not that I have anything against being alone but one may be excused the occasional urge for self-validation through the realization of fairy tale romances.

And thus it is that I find myself typing out a shamelessly desperate post. I hope noone I know will read it but just someone I don't know will.

Heck, I'll even heave and sigh and say, "Romeo Romeo...", or whatever else will do the trick.