Welcome to me.

I am twenty-seven and ordinary.

I live with my boyfriend of eight years in a suburb of the American metropolis in which I work. My boyfriend—let's call him Prince Henry, because that's the name I just made up for him. So. He's amazing. Everyone likes him better than me. I used to have a problem with that, but I got over it. I've grown to consider him a kind of social gimmick. Come for Prince Henry, stay for me. Because I'm the one who brings out the warm snacks.

By day, I do a computer job. It's the kind that keeps you bleary-eyed and sitting on your butt all day, but doesn't consider vision loss or hemorrhoids the kind of hazards that should be covered under workman's comp. The work is complicated and dull and underpaid. In my mind, I keep an updated list of the irrevocable consequences my company would suffer, should I ever part ways with them unexpectedly. I consider this grisly scenario a kind of sadistic fringe benefit. That's how much I like envisioning it.

At night, I've been taking classes at the community college, just for fun. I thought it would be a great way to meet new people. Unfortunately, my peer-to-peer interaction there mostly limits itself to reading aloud, in my flat, shaky public-speaking voice. I don't think my classmates are seeing my best side.

My sister moved to my city this year. I like having her here. We're like regular friends, except I question every decision she makes and she doesn't listen. Ever. Also, she doesn't know anybody in the city yet except me and Prince Henry. So we see a lot of her.

That's me. Anonymous, for the sake of honesty and grand disclosure. Now I just need some anonymous friends. Here I come. Get ready.