In case you forgot, Sunday is the annual buzzkill also known as Valentine's Day. Though there's never been a better time to be a single lady, there's something about a day dedicated to coupledom that can really take the wind out of our self-sufficient sails. That's why, all week long, ELLE.com will be celebrating the modern-era single lady—from the way she's portrayed in media to the kick-ass things she does (that have zilch to do with relationship status) to the way she Treats. Her. Self. Ready, ladies? Let's get in formation.

"How did you meet?" is usually the first question anyone ever asks a couple. Everyone likes beginnings, and we want to hear the incredulous twists of fate that brought two people together: Were you sitting next to each other on a plane? Locking eyes in the subway? Accidentally taking your future soul mate's coffee order by accident? We want the meet-cute.

The "meet-cute" is a common movie trope late film critic Roger Ebert once described as "a comic situation contrived entirely for the purpose of bringing a man and a woman together, after which they can work out their destinies for the remainder of the film." It's Hugh Grant spilling orange juice on Julia Roberts in Notting Hill. It's Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan calling into the same late-night radio show in Sleepless in Seattle. It's Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack reaching for the same pair of gloves in a store in Serendipity.

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I was only ten years old when Serendipity got me addicted to meet-cutes. The totally ridiculous tale of two strangers going on a perfect New York City date, parting ways, and leaving it to fate with only a phone number written on a dollar and a book, then finding each other again years later, enthralled me. I watched it no less than five times and even made a habit of eating at the exact café in the movie, despite its notorious three-hour waits. I proudly wore the "hopeless romantic" label, blasted Taylor Swift's love songs, and on every street corner I turned in New York, I fantasized about stumbling upon my meet-cute, too. 

There were some close calls. And in my head, they replay like movie scenes:

Failed Meet Cute #1: The Umbrella Guy

There happened to be an unexpected, torrential downpour just as I was leaving my summer internship and a handsome, red-headed stranger, umbrella in hand, just happened to be going in the same direction and offered to share his shelter. He held the umbrella over me all the way from 10th to 7th Avenue–which, in the city, can feel like a marathon. It was long enough of a walk to learn that his name was Scott, a Mississippi native living in Brooklyn, who lived two years in France prior, and was an event planner working on the fifth floor of my same building. Alas, as we walked into the subway, he was going downtown and I was going uptown. His train was at the platform already so he rushed off with an abrupt, "Nicetomeetyou!" while swiping his metrocard. Though I was on the lookout for his rust-colored hair every day for the rest of the summer, I never saw him again. 

Failed Meet Cute #2: The F Train Guy

A younger Hugh Jackman-lookalike took a seat next to me on the subway and, upon one of those people giving away free sandwiches—they're among the MTA's most common characters—entering our car, he turned to me and asked, irreverently, "Can I get you a sandwich?" He proceeded to ask me about my Kindle and I, convinced a guy like him couldn't possibly be interested in me, thought he just wanted specs on a slightly-outdated e-reader. I only got the clue when he said, "You are so beautiful," and, then, disappointed in finding out how young I was (19!), admitted he was about to ask me for my name and if I wanted to go on a date. His stop, 71st Street/Continental Avenue, came up and he left me with a "take care" before disappearing forever.

Failed Meet Cute #3: The Always-in-a-Suit Guy

This guy who I always saw on my bus, and who was always dressed like he walked out of an Esquire editorial, finally ended up in a seat next to me. I was staring down at my phone when I heard "Excuse me, can I sit here?" I looked up and did not, thank goodness, gasp or otherwise make a fool of myself. He said hi. We talked the whole ride...and I found out he had a girlfriend. That was it. 

I've recounted these stories and more to close friends of mine, always ending with a "Wouldn't that have been a great start to a love story???" I fantasized about what-could-have-beens with these complete strangers. I'd imagine telling the how-we-met story one day at my wedding. 

Even when I did eventually meet a guy where there was potential, I eventually sabotaged things when we got to the "talking" stage because I ran away with my imagination. I started telling EVERYONE I knew about meeting this guy (we bumped into each other at the food table at a picnic! Then again at a party where we locked eyes across the room!), and what might happen, and let anyone who would listen know a meet-cute was finally! Working! Out!!! Of course, things always ended quickly. I invested and obsessed so much in romanticizing a perfect beginning that I barely ever made it past the starting line.

"I invested and obsessed so much in romanticizing perfect beginnings that I barely ever made it past the starting line."

Things changed when I did what at the time I considered unthinkable: I downloaded Tinder. Even if the stigma of meeting someone online has lifted in recent years, I felt defeated. This is an engineered meeting, I thought, not something genuine. Even people I knew who met significant others on dating apps had fake stories at the ready. But, slightly traumatized after sabotaging the previously mentioned potential meet-cute-turned-relationship, I was in IDGAF mode. I swipe, swipe, swiped (mostly left) and waited to see what would happen. I was only on the app for a week when a guy named Anthony, for whom I'd gladly swiped right, messaged me, "How's it going, Kristina?" He didn't waste any time setting up a date for drinks the next day. "I have you saved on my phone as 'Tinder Kristina, haha'" he texted me. I thought: Is this really happening???

We went to a bar. We had a couple of drinks. We kissed. I introduced him to my favorite late-night pizza joint. I survived my first Tinder date! And it was my last. Two years together later and I barely even think about how we met. I tell my parents we met at a bar (which isn't entirely untrue!), but to everyone else, I just tell the truth. It's even become a point of pride to admit I met my boyfriend on Tinder. "We were each other's first Tinder dates!" I'll say and think, heck, that is pretty cute. "I told my boyfriend that you and Anthony are my gold standard," my friend Stephanie–who also met her boyfriend on an app–once told me, "You are the OG Tinderella story."

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Hugh Grant spills orange juice on Julia Roberts in Notting Hill.

Have you ever noticed how rom-coms end right when the protagonists get together? In Serendipity, John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale both uproot their lives and end engagements (Cusack's character calls off the freakin' weddingday-of) and the story fades to black. What happens next? Do the characters realize they're actually awful for each other and wasted all that time? Do they grow old together? Do they date for a few months then mutually break it off? We don't really get to see the happily ever after. That's not quite the case with real life. In real life, we always find out what happens...for better or for worse.

Anthony didn't spill orange juice on me. He didn't run into me on an elevator or stop me on the subway. His photo popped up on an app, and when I finally stopped obsessing over how a love story should start, one started. 

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Kristina Rodulfo
Beauty Director

Kristina Rodulfo is the Beauty Director of Women's Health—she oversees beauty coverage across print and digital and is an expert in product testing, identifying trends, and exploring the intersections of beauty, wellness, and culture. Prior to Women's Health, the Filipino-American, NYC native and NYU alumna was at ELLE.com for four years. As Senior Beauty Editor, she reported and co-produced the Webby Award-nominated documentary Beat: How Drag Queens Shaped the Beauty Industry and hosted the millions-viewed video series "Beauty Haul." She can never decide whether or not to get bangs, feels naked without winged eyeliner, and will never shut up about running the NYC Marathon.