I’m looking for that really crowded room. The kind filled with random people, four legs short of a fire hazard, and squashed bubbles of laughing, talk, and intimate exchanges. And me standing, amid the static murmuring and intermittent explosions of mirth, waiting for my moment.
When from across this room of crowd, stands another, and our eyes should meet.
One glance, held frozen, with the tacit acknowledgement of having found our kismet within each other.

What? What do you mean that’s not how it happens? I’m reading from the script here, and it’s pretty direct:

Crowded room, check.
Eyes meeting, check.
The smile-and-look-away, check.
The look-again-and-hold stare, check.
The subtle approach, check.
The easy-introductions, check.
The finding-you-have-absolutely-absolutely-everything-in-common-including-
mutual-interest-in-modern-poets, check.
The long-conversations-into-the-night ending with the numberswap, check.
The I-had-a-fantastic-time-speaking-with-you-this-evening-hope-we-can-
encore sms later, check.
Subsequent daily phonecalls/emails, check.
Feeling like you’ve found-the-missing-puzzle-piece-and-your-soul-is-now-complete, check. Meeting the parents, check.
Beautiful-lilies-roses-organza-memory-making wedding, check. Blissful-domestic-harmony-cute kids-candyfloss-pretty things-promotions-overseas holidays, check.

I’m just working off what I’ve been given. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t adlib through this. This is breach of contract.

Dammit, I’m getting a new agent.