It was all so long ago now. She could not recall when her opinion of her dad in prison had changed into something bordering on contempt. She was still...grateful, even happy, that he had taken the fall for her, but not proud of him, if that would have been the way to say it, she thought. She’d cried her eyes out so many nights about it all, what had happened. Then, one night there were no more tears only a kind of malaise, a kind of emptiness. Then there was James, and she was saved. James. We walked about a little around leister square and Charing Cross road, till I spied a guy in a sleeping bag in a shop doorway, just in a small turning off Trafalgar square, we approached the guy, who had a long straggly beard, and was rather unkempt, we started talking to him, first we offered him a tenner so he could get himself something to eat later, he was at first suspicious, but I soon put him at ease, smiling at him, and loosening my coat a little, so he could see how short my tartan. ." She sniffed a little, more tears coming down now. "Time and time again I've started to feel like maybe there was some hope. Even though I've heard all of the stories about you, about how you'll screw anyone. Even though girls are always coming up to me and asking about you, trying to get me to introduce them to you, I still had some hope. I kept deluding myself, telling myself that you really were a nice guy. That you really weren't doing all of these things that I was hearing." I am a nice. Sadly you’ve never heard from Jennifer again after that night, life must be hard out there, or that’s what you tell yourself.The overwhelming lonely feeling crushing you, distracting you from work and compounding your anxiety eventually compelled you to sign up for a dating agency. Surprisingly the agency ranked you highly on the looks scale, describing you as a “Good looking young man with that Androgynous look and a lovely smile.”The confidence boost their flattering profile bestowed upon you.