I'm sprinting through the freaking airport, trying to catch my plane. And let me tell you, I'm not a runner. Exercise is not my idea of fun and sweating without having sex, is not my idea of a good time. But a promise is a promise, and I'm already two days behind on fulfilling this promise, thus the reason I'm sprinting. After months of several bad dates and miss-adventures in the men department, I'm left drained and in desperate need of booze.
New York city's dating pool is severely lacking and it's forcing me to go where no smart woman in my position should ever go. To San Francisco where my best friend Ryder lives. I've been dodging going there for years because I'm in love with the guy and he only sees me as a friend. I thought if I found someone else to fall head over heels for, that I could move there, and I wouldn't have any of those deep longing feelings for Ryder because I'd be feeling all that for the other guy. We could all live happily ever after, but that was wishful thinking, and now I'm a nervous wreck, sweating through polyester while running through the airport.
