Trust me, I know it’s a desperate act going on a dating show. But I can’t be single for the rest of my life. Seriously, I had no kind of romance during my high school years, college years, and no one in my workplace catches my eye. At this point if a dating show doesn’t work I might as well just accept the fact that I’ll die alone, maybe I’ll have twenty-something cats to make up for it.

But here I am, sitting in a dressing room, my last chance. It’s decorated pretty nice, stuffed closets, filled with various different styles of clothing. And a full-body mirror, with lights all around it. I look in the mirror and I see myself in a very expensive looking dress, its hot pink and has a giant bow in the back, complimented with a matching one in my hair. The dress starts off short in the front but slowly lengthens to the point of touching the floor in the back. Only problem is it’s made of that one itchy material I hate. I was assigned a personalized hair stylist too, a nice formal bun was what she recommended. I agreed. There wasn’t much communication between us. Not that I was complaining or anything.

I don’t usually have high hopes for things like this, but the host certainly seemed sure I’d find, “_love._” I thought, and still do, that his confidence was just a way to get more contestants, but something about the way he advertised it makes it seem like he was _more_ than certain.

Suddenly, I got startled when I heard my name being called out. I have a poor habit of dozing off too often. I should really try to work on that. I scrambled my way off the little platform I was standing on and made my way towards the dark velvet curtains and the illuminating light peering out of them. I tried smoothing out my dress even though it was already wrinkle-free. I noticed my hands were suddenly more sweaty then I would’ve preferred. And yes, even though my love life is basically nonexistent, I believe no amount of experience will ever make me feel so laidback before meeting a poteinal romantic partner.

I finally make it towards the curtains after what feels like ages, and slowly open them, letting the bright light blind me. Only once my vision clears, it’s _not_ what I expected. I was told I would be seated across one male contestant, and see if we shared a spark. Both chairs are empty though. I stare at the grinning host, eyes wide. And then the _crowd. _Each audience is dressed similarly to me, outstanding outfits with stylish hairstyles. Maybe they were just requested to dress formally? But that’s not the only thing, their eyes aren’t opened, they seem to be knocked out? I turn back to host, catching one last glimpse of his wide, creepy, smile that looks like it’s been glued to his face before my vision goes black and I feel _something_ hit the back of my head. Soon I would be joining the crowd.