Being a high-demand romance-comedy actress is an extremely hard job to do when people fall in love with you very, very easily. It’s not my fault that these co-stars look at me like God took his sweet time sculpting me into existence—because maybe God really did. Call me a narcissistic, pompous , but I’m just stating the facts.

Even after eight breakups and twenty-three flat-out rejections, it really doesn’t get better. Whoever said it’s better to be loved than to love must have never been me. Sometimes I actually feel like quitting my job altogether, but I remember how good I feel every time one of these men look at me with adoration in their eyes, so instead of sulking about my weakness, I jump into practically every job opportunity thrown at me in hopes of… maybe finally finding The One?

Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic, after all. A beautiful, goddess-like hopeless romantic.

For this decision of taking movie jobs back to back, my mom decides that I’m a workaholic. My dad says that as long as I’m not doing a scene, he’s fine with my work-life choices. My publicist says that I’m going too fast—that I’m going to use up my image as South Korea’s first love if I keep playing the same roles over and over again. My friends say that I’m a lucky . My CEO doesn’t care as long as I bring in the cash.

Everyone in my life right now has different opinions about me and my growing career, and I usually don’t care about what others have to say about me. 

My manager, though, that Kim Taeyeon—don’t get me wrong, I love her, but she really is a —really doesn’t try to hide the fact that she thinks I’m bat crazy. She’s been yapping on and on for the past hour about how I don’t understand the concept of love—because, and I quote—what these men feel for me isn’t love, it’s infatuation, and it’s probably just lust most of the times. Just because I said that Park Hyungsik—an absolutely incredible actor and a charming, charming man—might or might not have a crush on me. We’d met again last week as guests on this new variety show, the first time in two years meeting each other since our last drama where we had both starred as supporting roles. He’d texted me this morning asking if I’d be up for coffee when I’m free, and I’d told Taeyeon that he might be into me. It’s completely normal for me to think that he might have something for me, right? I mean, he asked me out, for pete’s sake. 

I can’t stress enough how wrong Taeyeon with her ranting is being right now. From what I’ve learned through movies and books, love is something that makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. At least half of the men that had confessed to me said that I made their stomachs feel like a freaking zoo every time I’m around them, so there’s that!

“Butterflies in your stomach don’t mean bat,” Taeyeon fumes, running a hand through her newly-bleached blonde hair, “that just means attraction. A-ttrac-tion!”

I look at her with a scowl through the mirror as I put on the second step of my nightly skincare routine on my face harshly.

“Gently, Jisu,” she glares at my movements, and I’d be shaking my head in amusement at how she manages to be angry at me for two different things simultaneously if not for the fact that I’m pissed at her, too, so I rub my face harder to spite her. My dermatologist hates it when I’m being rough on my skin, and Taeyeon usually becomes the receiving end of Mrs. Kim’s scolding and nagging when it comes to my skin. “, you’re such a brat.”

I roll my eyes. “Why are you so against the idea of me being loved? I’ve worked hard to achieve this physique and face, so why can’t you just accept that fact and move on?”

“Ha!” she yells suddenly, surprising me to the point I knock my make up remover bottle off of my vanity, “that’s it. You think love is about looks—it’s more than that! You’re being so superficial right now. You just proved my point further.”

Taeyeon is just jealous.

“You’re just jealous that no one loves you, unnie,” I mutter, reaching for the discarded plastic bottle that has somehow managed to roll under the table angrily. Taeyeon looks scandalized.

“Now you’re being petty. I have a freaking boyfriend, Jisu,” she looks at me sourly. I almost gag. Her boyfriend, some dude who works in one of the bigger broadcasting stations—I can’t remember wh