[at_a_remove]

At the end, she describes what computer scientists call the Fussy Suitor problem, without naming it. Ah, but the Fussy is the problem, mostly. She has a lot of very weird bits. She keeps talking about dating "people" but she only mentions men -- are there women in there or not? She's got some kidding on the square about men's heights in the end. Going to Israel, becoming Jewish, and getting IVF smacks of geographic panic. The Starbucks bit, I just don't know how to respond to that except that she's self-aware enough to know that this is a counterproductive behavior but she just won't try to work herself out of it -- radical self-acceptance means that your flaws get to drive sometimes, too. And then there's the occupation: developing television and film projects about abortion. That's ... really hyperfocused. I'm not sure how many stories about abortion I'd want to tell and shepherd through the process of becoming visual media for a larger audience.

No doubt, dating is hard. But here we have someone who is literally making it harder than it must be, squandering her chances, full "Hazy Shade of Winter" style ("See what's become of me / While I looked around for my possibilities"). It's self-indulgent self-torment, and it makes Sartre look like he threw in two people too many into the famous play. It's certainly the end of love for her. Whew.