Author's Note: I probably should have updated this story weeks ago, but better late then never, right? I don't know what motivated me to get back into this story at this time - but I think the fact that I have only had four and a half hours of sleep may be giving me some kind of manic energy. If you like what you read, please review. If you don't, please be kind!

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All the good ones are gone.

There is not a single good man left out there, I'm sure of it. They are either already with someone, or they are so commitment-phobic that there is no point in making much of an effort in pursuing them. It seems to be a statistical fact that the number of "good" men is far lower than the number of women seeking said men. This of course means that we are now entering into the negative integers when it comes to relationships. Women, such as myself, are left with the unenviable task of weeding through the "bad" men with the faint hope that there may be one more of the good ones that got left behind by mistake. I am reminded of the fairy tale where the princess kisses the frog and then he turns into a handsome prince. Everything worked out for her in the end, but they never tell you how many frogs she had to kiss before she found the one that turned into Prince Charming. For all we know, she spent an eternity down in the ponds trying to round up amphibious creatures so that she could get the one that wasn't going to leave her with a bad taste in her mouth. Maybe they should have enclosed some kind of timeline with that fairy tale, because I want to know how many more frogs I have to kiss before one of them turns out to be something magical.

I hate sounding like the man-hater because really, I'm not. I like men. I just don't like their stupidity and insensitivity. I am even willing to overlook these less then desirable qualities from time to time but in light of recent events in my life, they are at the forefront of my mind. Much as I don't want to, I can't seem to stop thinking about Hank. I thought Hank could be my prince. Instead he was even lower down in the ecosystem than a frog. He turned out to be the pond scum. I feel like such a fool. How was I so blind? How could I not see that I was not the only woman in his life? So now I not only have the stigma of being "the other woman", but I have garnered the reputation that falls under the "last to know" category. I had no idea that Hank was serious with someone else. I knew that he wasn't serious with me, but I had hoped that he might like to be. But instead I was just someone who he could flirt with and keep him company on nights when his girlfriend worked. God, it makes me sick to think that I was little more than a bed buddy for him. There was no real emotional connection, I see that now. But for a minute I thought that I had found someone who was really interested in getting to know me.

That is what I really want you know. I don't want to go through life without someone who is fascinated by every facet of my being. I want someone who yearns to know more about who I am. And in return, I want to know everything there is to know about that person. But no matter how much attention I get, it is never the kind that I so desperately desire. I'm no dummy ok; I know that a lot of the guys here flirt with me. Heck, some of them may even be interested in going out with me. But not a single one of them tries to know me. They are content using their pretty words and innuendos to try and woo me. But the fact remains that they have no idea who I really am. I am just Sara, the single girl. Or I suppose to those that have found out, I am Sara, the other woman. Ugh! I hate that phrase yet it has being a staple of my vocabulary lately. I am thinking of just tattooing it on my forehead, since that is all I see when I look in the mirror anyway. I see a woman who was played by someone she thought was special. I bet Hank is laughing his ass off as he lies in sunny Tahiti with her right now. God I hope he gets a sunburn.

So I am back to where I started: the good ones are gone. The ones that I find instead are either two-timers like Hank, or half-hearted paramours like the guys from the lab. Man, sometimes I think that I will end up alone. Or as a crazy cat lady. Oh God.

Thankfully this pity party is broken up by the arrival of a visitor to the break room where I am mulling over my coffee. The visitor is a delivery man carrying a long, narrow white box. He looks at me.

"Sara Sidle?"

"That's me."

He hands me a form. "Delivery for you Miss Sidle. Please sign here."

I oblige and he nods his head politely as he leaves. I sit down at the table and open the box.

I am assaulted by the sweet scent of the dozen white roses that are inside the box. I am amazed by this. I lift the flowers out and a card drops to the table. I pick it up and read these words:

Sara

I was worried about you because you seem sort of down lately. I weaseled the truth out of Catherine. Please don't be angry at her.

Sara, you are an amazing woman and you deserve better than the likes of Hank. If he is too blind to see what a great person you, that's his loss. But don't let it get you down. You deserve someone who treats you like a queen, and I know that there is a king out there somewhere for you.

Be happy Sara. You deserve to be.

Warrick

Wow. This is a shocker. Warrick never struck me as the particularly sentimental and sensitive type, but I guess I read him wrong too. I can feel myself smiling and I can't seem to stop. Nor do I want the smile to fade.

I thought all of the good ones are gone.

Wrong again.