Ragazzo Solo, Ragazza Sola | Stephen Merchant / OC

Chapter 1

It's strange, really, how life seemed so eager to grant my wishes just when I decided to stop chasing them. It's like the only thing I ever needed to do was tell myself in frustration - fuck this, I give up! - and here it comes, with an absurdly sassy "what took you so long?".
Which is not far from truth, to be honest. I wonder why I spent so much time and effort looking for that mythical "wife" when my current strategy clearly doesn't work - all the girlfriends I dated never stayed longer than a couple months, and the crush would always go away without even a chance of turning into a full-blown romance.
So, I decided to give it a break, just for a while - enjoy the last days of my stay in LA, then go back to London, immerse myself neck-deep in work with Ricky, and maybe reconsider my attitude towards relationships.
This little epiphany, a realization as simple as it is unlikely, just happened to descend upon me right in the middle of a party, one of the few that I gave a try here in California. The thought resurfaced on top of my absent reflections as I wandered around the house looking for a quiet place. It was there for a while, actually, in the back of my mind, and maybe that's why tonight the music was too loud, the dim lights were too depressing, and the crowd of people was too annoying. A reminder of the fact that deep inside I still was an introvert. When I was younger, I blamed my insecurity, but as the time went by, I realized that I simply didn't enjoy crowds and parties as much as a company of my own. Another thing about myself that I ignored for too long.

I found my way to the balcony and for a few minutes simply stood there in silence, looking down at the lights of Downtown LA. Even for late August, the night was cool and windy; still, compared to the hot and smoky air inside, it felt refreshing, so I just wrapped myself tighter in my jacket.
I was ready to turn around and leave, but the life decided it was a perfect moment to finally give its response.
I heard clicking of the heels approach me from the back, then - a tired sigh.
A tall redhead entered my side vision: she was in late twenties-early thirties, dressed in black jeans and light blue denim jacket, and she certainly was the type I wouldn't try talking to at a party - the one that had "keep out" written all over her face. Experience told me she was either taken or simply not interested in my kind. So I let her stand next to me and observed her with a corner of my eye.

She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her handbag and offered me one. I shook my head, and another minute or two passed in silence, as I felt it, a bit awkward, since she already acknowledged my presence, but wasn't really eager to start a conversation.
She rested against the porch for a while, inhaling smoke with what seemed like a precise pattern of 10 seconds. Then, as nicotine entered her system and her posture relaxed a bit, she looked at me and spoke with another sigh:
"I hate parties."
I couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"Says a girl in a flat full of LA's biggest party monsters."
"Fair enough", she sighed again, this time with a grin, and pointed with her cigarette back to the crowd behind the balcony door.

"My friend dragged me here. Says it's a good place to find a boyfriend."
"Really? To be honest, my first impression was that it's the other way around."
"What, that I'm here to get rid of one? Or that I'm taken and just generally too scary to approach?"
"Well... Yeah. I guess, both", I admitted as nothing less direct came to mind. She pretty much summed up my first impression. That did not seem to bother her, though, so she grinned again:
"You're not the first to tell me. My friends are convinced socializing helps with that, just to increase the chance, I guess. But I've been here in LA for 4 years, and guess what - no sign of a worthy companion."
"Never would have thought a lady like you can have a problem with that."
"You'd be surprised. LA is full of assholes as much as of handsome men. These two actually go together most of the time. And I have way too much self-respect to bear it all just for the sake of not being single."

"I'm sure some of my friends back in London would be really jealous if they heard you now."

"Oh, that I get too", she rolled her eyes. "For some it's hard to understand that being on the other side of the spectrum is just as bad.  The truth is, though, I don't really want a boyfriend, and all the stuff that comes with him. It's something I'm doing fine without, you know? But I can't get people around me to understand it. I mean, seriously, is that really hard to comprehend that it's okay to be single?"

I didn't answer, feeling that she needed to speak out her mind. She saw that I was listening and turned slightly to face me:
"It's like... All the people I know - they're so convinced it's their sacred duty to get me to date someone. Like, if you are not in a relationship, you're a lesser person somehow. Do you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, sure," I replied. The situation sounded quite similar. My patterns of behavior and general opinion on relationships proved that I also believed in all those things. So I added:
"And it gets harder every year, you know, the pressure, the expectations, and it just feels like your time is running out..."
"Right?" - she agreed, visibly relieved that she was understood. "I'm turning 34 this year, and I hear about it every goddamn day. And you know, getting someone is actually the easiest part."
"Oh. I think I know what you mean."

"You do?"

"Then comes the part where you wake up next to a woman, you look at her and ask yourself: why did I start dating her, again?"

"Yeah", she laughed. "Pretty much. I mean, yes, I don't mind dating, but get me someone I would stay with for more than a week! I've seen people enough to know their quirks before they kick in. Besides, once they find out I have close to too much experience in romance, they leave."

She sighed again.

"Sometimes I feel like I've already wasted all my chances back in college."

"Sometimes I feel like I've never even had a chance", I responded. She frowned at my words, but had to agree:
"Yeah, and maybe a little bit of that too. It's just easier to accept the things as they are. As I said - is that really a problem? You, me, fellow loners - we tried, it didn't work, so why keep trying if we know how it ends, right?"
"That's what I'm thinking", I smiled. "I spent all my life looking for that special one, and... you know, maybe she doesn't exist?"
"Yeah, like... They keep taking about "better half", "soulmates" and stuff, but why do we have to have someone to be complete?"
"We don't. 
"Damn right we don't. Look at me, I'm a bachelorette with a 10-year experience, do I look incomplete? Do I look unhappy?"
"You look tired and annoyed."
She chuckled.
"Wrong. I look free and independent."
"Well, that's one way to put it..."
"And those things you said, tired and annoyed - they're easily curable. First, coffee, and second, a better company-"
She trailed off the moment these words came out, realising how indirectly insulting they sounded, and added:
"By company I meant those who brought me to the party. I quite like our conversation, to be honest, although my neck already starts hurting from looking up at you."
She put out her cigarette and stretched out her hand:
"I'm Carina."
"Stephen."
We shook hands, and quickly, without breaking contact, she pulled up my jacket sleeve to look at my watch.
"Excuse me... Oh, look. I've been here for 20 minutes. Now no one can say I left too soon, - she declared, stepping back from the porch, - As much as I enjoyed talking to you, streets down there look like a much more exciting place than this. So I'll be out of here, if you don't mind"
"Yeah, okay. See you, Carina the Free and Independent."
She waved at me, and turned around, heading inside. I heard her hills clicking on the tile floor, then the sound drowned in music and voices.
I sighed and looked at the closed balcony door for a few more seconds, silent again. Was that the woman I wanted to meet for so long, gone before I realized what happened? An opportunity that was laid out carefully, and I missed it?
I considered catching her before she left and at least ask for her number. But didn't she just say that none of that intrested her?
No more chasing, I reminded myself, and dismissed the idea.
Finally, I turned back, ready to leave, when the door opened again.
"I forgot my phone. Thank god you're still here", Carina explained, crossing the balcony with wide steps, snatched her gadget from the porch and left again.
Second chance, I thought, and maybe the last chance.
So this time, I had a quick decision to try and catch the luck by its tail. I rushed in after:
"I think I'll go too. No need to say goodbye, I don't know anyone here anyway."
She smiled, as if she expected that to happen, when I continued:
"You said you wanted some coffee? I know a place."