Goldmund - EvelynThis is the way of all rom-coms: you will love someone, when you're young. They will break your heart. You will meet them again, in the city, when you're older. Things will be different. Your friends, sassy and otherwise, will tell you, hey wait, isn't that--the one you told us about? Shouldn't you--be a little wary? Pish-posh, you say, or maybe: fuck off. You abandon your friends for the hard drug of resurrected first love. Things are good. Then there's a betrayal: out late with a co-worker, laughing it up? Or a misunderstanding that turns into an epic three-hour argument, replete with citations of past domestic sins, name-calling, and long, hateful rhetorical pauses. Suddenly it's raining all the time everywhere. You get fired. Catastrophe. You keep hinting to your friends that they should go retrieve your first love, maybe, you don't know, throw you a surprise party where the first love is hidden behind the offer letter for a new job. But your friends aren't speaking to you anymore because you told them to go fuck off in the first act, and now there are no third acts in American rom-coms. Homeless, friendless, jobless. Not an outcome you had in mind when you friended your first love on Facebook.[Buy the Malady of Elegance]