My roommate is on a date (or, my intergallacic romance)

If there’s one thing that makes me feel more lonely than I already am, it’s the fact that I’m in this huge apartment by myself while one of my roommates is on a date.

Look, I feel happy for her, I really do. But the fact that she’s on a date and I’ve never even been on one in my life, makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me. Is something wrong with me?

I like to believe that I’m just too good for the men of this world. Maybe there’s another planet like Earth in another galaxy, and someone is thinking the same thing. Maybe sometime in the future, we’ll meet each other and know.

I used to believe that when I was younger. I told my parents, I told my friends, I told myself. The reason I haven’t been in a relationship is that there is no one on this Earth that wants me. That my perfect someone is from a different galaxy and one day, when we improve space travel for the public, I’ll go to that galaxy and meet that person. Okay, that sounds like something from a comic, but I wrote a paper on it, so maybe I thought of it first?

The story went how you would expect. I would hop on a shuttle out of defiance from my parents, the first shuttle out of the world. Then I’d space jump to the next few hundred galaxies over so that I wouldn’t be able to get back. In that new galaxy, I would land on a human sustaining planet and there, in the lobby or buying a hot dog (do they have hot dogs in other galaxies), I would see the one.

Wishful thinking, huh? You see, with all the time I have on my hands and the fact that I hate being around people, you start to create stories. This is what I’ve been doing my whole life, creating stories. I’m pretty sure I’ve told people stories that are not true. I want to sound like I’m a cool person… So you’ll like me.

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