Damn, girl. At least I have a wife. At least I have a significant other. You, on the other hand, will remain alone and, eventually, die alone. You see, girlfriend, I’m not doped up on antidepressants nor do I have I spent over 6,900 hours on a fucking message board engaging in depressive behavior masquerading as an online “hobby”. Tell me, Guinastasia. How long have you been on anti-depressants? Who exactly are you behind the drug? Do you even know who you are behind the mask of SSRIs? You don’t even know who you are. You’ll never find a man because you’re emotionally needy, socially awkward, and bereft of intelligence beyond 9th grade. Because I kind of respect you as the one the senior cult-members here, let me give you a pro-tip. If you want a man, get yourself off the antidepressants, and see a psychologist to overcome your issues. Antidepressants and relationships don’t mix. Seethis and this. Good luck, because you’re going to need it your baggage. Your clock is running out. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.