There are few things I hate more than running into people I know. I operate on a very specific social schedule: If I didn’t ask you to hang out, I really don’t want to see you. I’m charming like that. Also, the degree to which I’m antisocial is kind of crippling.

Whenever I move next, I need to move to New York. I was watching “The Adjustment Bureau” the other day and the only satisfaction the movie gave me was that while Matt Damon was risking his career and life to essentially stalk a girl he made out with for a minute three years ago in a bathroom (that is literally the entire plot of the movie), the Adjustment Bureau guys were like, “It’s New York City. You’ll never find her.”

And I was like, HOLD UP. You mean she won’t happen to also crave Subway at noon on a Wednesday and catch him off-guard when it’s his day off and he’s wearing the same thing he wore last night and honestly can’t remember the last time he washed his hair? She won’t magically round the corner at the very moment he stumbles out of the bar after last call and says something incoherent and regrettable? She won’t run into him at the grocery store and judge the tower of frozen pizzas in his cart? None of these things will ever happen in the land of wonder that is New York City? I have to live there.

I have to live there because this kind of shit always happens to me.

A trip to the mall is basically like a high school reunion, and I didn’t even go to high school in this state. An outing to dinner lands me with the guy who tried to buy me a drink three nights ago as my server and his friends who cheerleaded his sexual harassment sitting at the booth behind me. A walk from the parking lot to my apartment nets me a three-hour impromptu hang out session with two coworkers who just happened to be driving by and almost hit me in the crosswalk. A night at a bar that no one ever goes to, a location picked entirely for that reason, somehow ends up being a night at the bar that I always go to because the entire crowd of people I didn’t feel like seeing just so happened to have the same idea. Stuck in bumper to bumper traffic on Pennsylvania’s two-lane wagon path masquerading as a highway? I don’t know much, but I know for certain I’ll see someone.

God, it’s so hard being this popular.