As the afternoon drags on, a more existential type of angst will set in. Good Lord, was I put on this earth to be a corporate wage slave? Run around from place to place getting worn out doctors to sign on the dotted line. I'll probably die in a plane crash before I get to climb a mountain, sky dive, become a mother, or a wife - what order is that supposed to happen in? Maybe I will catch a horrible disease. Hell, the horrible disease has probably already lodged itself in my body. The Bird Flu! I caught it from the guy who snuggled to close to me in the elevator. What were those white spots on his shirt?
Clearly, I am destined to die before finding true, lasting, meaningful love. Is it possible I could at least have lasting, meaningful sex before I die?

That's Just TodayLast night, I was on top of the world. I thought to myself: I'm exactly the person I wanted to be when I was growing up. I am a sexy, single girl with a Sex and the City lifestyle (minus all the shoes, llingerie, and money. But, I do have girlfriends who have time to brunch with me).