She sat across from me, discussing her love life and the desire to find that serendipitous story which according to every fairy tale should have fallen into place by now. She lived in New York City, all of her other relationships had come into existence surprisingly and excitingly, the next one should be here by now. She was 35, so it was time, according to her maternal or societal clock.

I looked into her eyes as she told me a story of a more tranquil moment in time for her, “My skin was amazing, I lived simply, and I was…