Do you ever look at two people hopelessly in love and feel… repulsed?

That’s how I sometimes feel as a person in love. It’s ten times worse when you’re the lonely person out of love. I’ve been there, too.

A few weeks ago on a five-hour flight, I sat next to a man in his fifties with pretentious being his main personality trait. Just some foreword: I despise airplane conversation. Not a fan. It’s like a never-ending elevator ride. I hate it so much that sometimes when my phone dies, I keep my headphones in and occasionally bop my head to keep up the elusion that I’m listening to music.