So I had a bad day. It started bad right away and it managed to stay a consistent level of shitty throughout. Even now it’s shitty, because I have that stupid bad day song stuck in my head. Thank you singer of shitty bad day song, I really needed that.

This bad day has been like a greasy buildup on my skin. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I found myself crying over a Scrubs rerun. A rerun I’ve seen roughly 39,928 times. Yet I cried like a baby.

Even after a scalding shower meant to rinse the badness and cleanse my psyche the greasy shittiness continued. I knew I had reached a new level of patheticness when I found myself getting my hopes up over a line in an e-mail.

“Hello!” it said. “I found your email somewhere and decided to write.” That’s all that I could see in Gmail. And for the few seconds it took me to read that first line and click the e-mail to open it, I had decided it was very probably from the next great love of my life. Someone who was going to woo me, and find me interesting for at least a little while. Perhaps Harold had been reading iwilldare.com for years and had finally screwed up the courage to e-mail me. Maybe he could tell that I was burnt out and starting to feel lonely.

But the second line of the e-mail told me how Harold was going to be in my place in a few weeks and that he was a real party girl. Then, because I haven’t been feeling low enough today, I had to chastise myself for being so naive and hopeful. The real Harold would have know that silly girls need love to too.

Until right now I thought I was okay with my current state of un-union. In fact, I’ve been trying to convince everyone that I am perfectly alright with just going it alone. But perhaps the lady doth protest too much? Because tonight, after such a bad day, I’d have given anything to anyone just to have someone bring me a dish of ice cream.