That moment where you see the most amazingly beautiful woman in the world
But then you realize you haven’t even talked to her—or met her.
What the fuck?
Seriously. I mean, you clearly had very little chance in the first place; all things being equal, we’ll evaluate you at a 9% suitability rate—and that is certainly rather generous on our part.
But she’s stunning. Beyond words. It’s remarkable how she was chosen by some random (but statistically likely) odds to become who she is. Her face, her hair, her smile, and my god her eyes. Seriously. I think your odds can be pared down to 4%. Once again, we are being rather magnanimous with your assessment.
Then again, looks are superficial at best. They may be the threshold, but they are certainly not sufficient to fulfill the standards of a healthy relationship. Oh wait, she likes the same everything you do. You have virtually the same book list. Mutual movies you’ve watched separately, but came to concurrent conclusions. And, yes, that is Arrested Development she has posted there. Yeah, you gotta lock that down. But that brings you down to a pithy 2%.
Oh, she’s studying environmental science? She wants to work with animals? That’s absolutely fascinating—and something you have absolutely no expertise on. We’ll drop you to 1.5% so it doesn’t hurt as much as it should. (And don’t think your intimate knowledge of the giraffe’s evolution makes you an interesting person.)
Politically, she appears to be liberal. Religiously, she appears to be an atheist. It’s a shame you don’t have a chance with her because I’m sure you’d get along so grandly with someone you are so similar to. Congratulations, you’ve just joined the 1%.
She speaks French? 0.1%.
And the fact that you wrote this entire pathetic, sniveling post doesn’t do you any good. It is sad that you’re in the middle of New York City with nothing to do but to look a thousand miles back at Iowa to gaze at a girl you’ve never met through the artificial illumination of your computer screen. This writing isn’t insightful. It isn’t philosophical. It isn’t even romantic. It’s fantasy.
Get back down to Earth.
— Narrated by my mind
