I’m A Smoking Hot Girl (Who Is Secretly Completely Alone)

You would never guess it. I turn heads when I walk down the street. I’ve had countless men at my job make a move on me. I’m into hair and makeup, I look like a brunette bombshell when I doll myself up. You would probably assume that I go out clubbing every weekend, in a skanky little dress with my fit body that I work so hard to keep in shape. I’m glowing and happy at work, everyone knows my name, everyone sees me as this outgoing, pretty girl who really has it together. It’s ironic, because they would never guess that while everyone says merrily to each other, “Happy Friday!” I’m secretly dreading the fact that I’ll have another long weekend, bored and alone.

I used to have friends. I used to be a social butterfly. I used to be happy.

Then life changed. I moved to a new city, and I realized that the people I had previously surrounded myself with no longer enhanced me in any way. I knew I had to move on, I knew I had to cut the cord and go on my own. And now I’m paying the price by having to experience my amazing city and career completely alone.

I don’t want another guy who doesn’t care about me to ask me out for a drink. I want friends.

I become extremely irritated when people say, “Oh my GOD, I’ve become SUCH a loser after college- tee hee!” and then a day later you see them on Instagram out with a group of friends that must’ve just mysteriously poofed out of nowhere. I can’t even explain how many times I’ve said out loud to myself, “I don’t even know why I have a fucking phone- no one texts me.” And it’s true. My phone is solely my alarm clock. I can go days at a time with no texts. I’ll longingly look at other girls on the subway in the morning who are typing away on their phones, buzzing with conversations, fulfillment, human interaction.

So, you may think I’m getting ready for a girls night on the town. But I’m sitting on my couch narrowing down my Thai food delivery options on my laptop. The door will knock, and it only ever knocks for takeout that I order too much. I’ll sit here, hovering over the terrible comfort food, scarfing it in my mouth like a monster. Then, when it’s all gone, I’ll curl back into my couch, my stomach full but heart empty. I’ll think, what now? I’ll look at my phone, see it’s 9:30 PM — time for bed, I guess. I’ll wonder how many girls are like me, and if I’ll ever meet them. And I’ll wonder how long this loneliness will last.