In this week’s story, a woman goes on a second date and gets rejected by a man she met on the subway: 41, single, Queens

DAY ONE

6 a.m. Wake up to Whisky demanding breakfast. My apartment is silent except for her little meows, which sound sick. I rub my eyes. The past few days have been an endless loop of anxiety — dating without any luck whatsoever, Whisky’s illness, school chaos. I’m a kindergarten teacher at a school in the city.

8 a.m. Sip my coffee in the classroom before the kids get here. My hands are trembling slightly. Sometimes I wonder if I’m heading toward a nervous breakdown from all the dating and centering of men who don’t care about me. Then I think, You’re gonna have a nervous breakdown because you can’t meet a guy? Get over it! I dunno. Lately, the weight of being

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