Disappointed after wasting an evening attempting to spot/stalk blue-haired magazine mogul and Nylon columnist Peaches Geldof at her Williamsburg abode, after which you hoped to get her to instantly fall in love with you and convince her to leave her “husband” for your sorry arse? Wondering why that cute guy at your local coffeeshop isn’t interested in talking to you about anything except what type of milk you want in your latte? Feeling woefully insecure after noting, day after day, that the special, wonderful someone you see every morning on your subway platform, who you stare at imagining your future children would look like and whether they’re a viable life partner, never seems to give you a second glance?
Sure, we feel you.
Perhaps you should loiter, creepily, in your best duds, smiling winningly, at Beford Avenue L station, where mistletoe was spotted yesterday.
Perhaps someone will steal your Metrocard.
Perhaps they will silently judge your outfit.
Perhaps they will laugh in your face.
Or, er, well, hmm, perhaps they will TOTALLY make out with you. It would be a Christmas miracle. Believe, you cynical bastards.