"I don't think this is going to work out."

Wait. What the fuck? 

I stare at Alex, the man I've come to know over the past few weeks. He sits relaxed in his chair across the table from me, looking perfectly content as he takes a swig of his coffee.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask.

"I don't think this is going to work out, Erin." The clunk of his ceramic mug on the tabletop closes his statement, like a gavel closing a court hearing.

I sit there in shock as his words sink in.

Is this seriously happening? Again? 

My throat burns in anger as I stare at his emotionless face. "Oh," I stutter.

"Look, it's not you, it's me."

Seriously? He's using that line. 

"Sure," I say, rolling my eyes and gathering my bag.

He doesn't show an ounce of sympathy towards me as I stand up and look at him in disbelief. "Have a nice life," I mumble while walking away.

The cold autumn air hits me like a ton of bricks when I stride out of the coffee shop. I use the clicking of my heeled boots to steady my breathing, trying my hardest to stay calm. I refuse to cry this time; I've wasted too many tears on men who don't deserve them.

As I round the corner, my car comes into view. I sigh in relief, but my mood shifts again when I see a yellow envelope trapped under the windshield-wiper. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," I say aloud, grasping the ticket firmly in my hand.

I slam the car door shut and groan loudly. Could this day get any worse? It's been a disaster since the get-go: I was late for work because I slept through my alarms, stained my blouse with toothpaste, and didn't drink my morning coffee. Now, to top things off, I've been dumped – if you can even call it dumped – and got a parking ticket.

I want to scream in frustration, but I choose to thrash my hands against the steering wheel instead. Afterward, I grip the wheel firmly, attempting to calm myself. Getting worked up is pointless, especially now.

I unlock my phone and start the engine. "i'm so tired..." by Lauv begins blasting through the speakers. How ironic.  Rolling my eyes, I turned the volume down and put the phone to my ear, listening to the dial tone hoping that Becky will answer.

"Hey, it's Becky. I'm unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave a message," her sweet voice chimes before the abrupt beep blasts through the line.

"Hey Becks, it's me. So, it happened again...  Anyways, call me back; I need a girl's night."

I hang up the phone, toss it into my purse, and pull into traffic. Vancouver's evening rush-hour is the worst: cars are bumper-to-bumper, pedestrians are everywhere, and most of the drivers are stupid. My regular twenty-minute drive ends up taking over forty, and by the time I pull into my apartment block's parkade, I am beyond frustrated.

Pouring myself a large glass of wine is the first thing I do after entering my apartment. After the day I've had I need it. My phone dings multiple times while I'm taking my makeup off. I choose to ignore it. It's more than likely a notification from one of the various hookup apps I have installed, which is the last thing I want to look at right now.

On my way to the couch, I stop by the kitchen and grab my wine. But just as I get settled, the apartment's intercom buzzes. "Oh, come on," I groan as I pull myself up. "Hello?" I say into the speaker.

"Erin, it's Becky. I have wine!"

I press the button without hesitation. Becky always knows how to pick me up after a bad day, especially after the amount of them I've had recently. I am beyond grateful she's in my life.

After propping the door open, I stride back into the kitchen and pour Becky a glass of wine. As I'm placing the bottle back in the fridge, I hear Becky enter the apartment.

"Hello?" she sings.

"Hey, Becks," I groan, placing her wine glass next to mine.

"You started without me?" she asks, glancing at my half-empty wine glass on the coffee table.

"I couldn't wait, and I didn't know you were coming."

"I texted you, you goof."

"Oh, shit," I say, walking back into the kitchen to grab my phone. She was right, she had texted me.

"Alright," Becky starts, taking a seat on the couch with her wine, "what happened this time?"

"God! I'm so fucking tired of this happening!" I say, sitting down beside her. "What is it with men in their late twenties and only wanting to hook up? Like, don't they want to find someone to settle down with?"

"Not everyone... thinks ahead, like you do, Erin," Becky says, taking her time to choose her words wisely.

"I thought things were going great with Alex. We went on a few dates, and I thought we were hitting it off. But now that we've had sex, he's just brushing me off."

"Asshole," she scoffs.

"Honestly, are some men that desperate to get laid? I stick to my three-date rule for that reason, to sift out the horny assholes."

"Ha, horny assholes," Becky smirks, taking a sip of her wine.

"This isn't the time, Becks. I'm in crisis mode, here."

"Okay, there's no need to be overdramatic."

"I'm starting to think that I am never going to find love. Maybe that's what the Gods have planned for me," I say, glancing up at the ceiling. "Am I never going to fall in love again?"

"Erin," Becky laughs, "I don't think the Gods have vendettas against you; you've just had some bad luck lately."

"That's easy for you to say; you're the one engaged!"

Becky glances down at the sparkling diamond on her finger, tilting it from side to side.

"Yeah, Dylan is great."

"Ugh," I say in disgust before taking another large gulp of wine.

"But hey, don't give up hope. There has to be someone out there for you. These things take time."

"Well, I'm done waiting," I muffle into the glass before standing to get more wine from the fridge.

"Erin?" Becky says suspiciously as she follows me into the kitchen.

"What?"

"Okay, you may think I'm crazy for suggesting this, but I heard some lady talking about it at work last week."

"About what?"

"Well, she was struggling to find love, so she went to this love guru-"

"Hold on, love guru?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, some lady in Yaletown, I think. Anyways, she said that it worked. She's been dating this guy now for over six months."

"I find that very hard to believe. Are you sure she's telling the truth?"

"I think so. She's not the type to make things up. She's one of the company's accountants, for heaven's sake."

"What's the name of the place? Let's look it up."

"Aphrodite's, I think."

"Hold on, Aphrodite, as in the Greek Goddess of love?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

I shake my head in disbelief as I sit down at my computer and open up Google. "Alright, let's see if this is legit."

Only one legitimate website pops up after Googling Aphrodite, Yaletown, Vancouver, and Vancouver love guru. The site looks decent and advertises various customer testimonials.

"There!" Becky exclaims! "That's April, my co-worker!"

"Oh, wow, he's cute," I say, sounding surprised.

"Keep reading. Here, click on the session info tab."

"Sixty dollars!" I bark, almost sloshing wine over the edge of my glass.

"Sixty dollars entails you to a reading, herbal tea, and... free advertising?"

"What the hell do they mean by 'free advertising'?"

"Who knows."

"Seriously Becks, sixty dollars for an inaccurate palm reading and a mug of lukewarm herbal tea; no thank you!"

"Yeah, it sounds like a scam, honestly."

"You're the one who suggested it!"

"I know, but April made it seem legitimate."

"I think I'll stick with Tinder," I chuff.

"Erin, you're not going to find a decent guy on Tinder. Most people use that app specifically for quick hookups."

"Fuck, I know. I'm so sick of hookups. Did I tell you about this one guy who messaged me again after we'd already been together?"

"No! Did he want to see you again?"

"Well, yes, but he had forgotten that we'd already fucked."

"No!" Becky gasps in disbelief.

"Yeah. Something along the lines of 'hey gorgeous, wanna bang?', or something like that."

"That's disgusting."

"I know," I say, rolling my eyes.

"You should really delete those apps."

"I know, I know. They've never done me any good. I'm always left feeling like a cheap hooker after meeting up with someone I matched with."

"More of a reason to go ahead and delete them!"

"You're right," I shrug, picking up my phone from the desk. "You're my witness," I say, as I delete them. "There, it's done."

"I'm proud of you."

"Yeah," I sigh. "I guess I'm going to have to accept the fact I'm going to be celibate for the rest of my life."

"You're hilarious – you won't be! You'll see!"

"Sure."

"You know what, you're coming to my work cocktail party next weekend. You're bound to meet a decent man there."

"Aren't all the men who work at that company old as hell? I don't want no sugar daddy."

"No!" Becky laughs. "There are a bunch of men in their later twenties and early thirties, and lots of them are single, too."

"Oh, well, good for me, then."

"That's the spirit!"