Which came first, the ovary or the raisin?!

So I’m in New York. Everything’s great. Sort of. I found a job in just one week, an alarmingly short amount of time and a feat which has garnered the astonished praise of many. And within 3 whirlwind weeks I have my very own little room complete with a tiny twin bed all to myself in Astoria, Queens. In a conversation with my new roommate about the neighborhood (I was inquiring if it was safe) she noted that its mostly filled with young artists and actors and then said, “Yeah, my friend and I were just commenting on how many single, white women we see walking around here.” “Grrrrrrreat.” I replied sarcastically.

Oooops! I’m letting my jaded side show already. Keep it under wraps, girl. At least for the first week! Jeez.

Still, there’s no doubt that New York is filled to the brim with attractive, talented, young, ambitious women. Oh yes, they are everywhere, strutting down the streets in their fashionable knee high leather boots. Having a lot of cool women around is not a bad thing mind you, its just that if these smart, sexy, successful women are still single then my odds are not so good. And what can I say; I feel my dreams of ever meeting a man wither just a little more with the crisp fall leaves. It appears to be my destiny to swim in a sea of estrogen as my poor ovaries shrivel up inside of me like two dessicated little raisins.

Sob…[alone in my twin bed]