I'm No Good At Anything. Not Men.

Oh God, What's Wrong With Me? Why Does Nothing Ever Work Out?

I Will Not Drink More Than Fourteen Alcohol Units A Week.

One Minute You're Closer To Someone Than Anyone In The Whole World, Next Minute They Need Only To Say The Words 'time Apart', 'serious Talk' Or 'maybe You...' And You're Never Going To See Them Again And Will Have To Spend The Next Six Months Having Imaginary Conversations In Which They Beg To Come Back, And Bursting Into Tears At The Sight Of Their Toothbrush.

As Women Glide From Their Twenties To Thirties, Shazzer Argues, The Balance Of Power Subtly Shifts. Even The Most Outrageous Minxes Lose Their Nerve, Wrestling With The First Twinges Of Existential Angst: Fears Of Dying Alone And Being Found Three Weeks Later Half-eaten By An Alsatian.

Sink Into Morbid, Cynical Reflection On How Much Romantic Heartbreak Is To Do With Ego And Miffed Pride Rather Than Actual Loss