Ahh Sunday afternoon. Sometimes, for a single girl with some time on her hands, it can be the most depressing time of the week. I've read articles and columns about what my sister and I have coined "Sunday Night Syndrome". It starts innocuously enough, maybe a few thoughts of the coming week twinging you while you're at the gym in the morning, or maybe while you're lying in bed, making excuses not to go to the gym.
Then you have some coffee, try to go outside and find the city teeming with people, all coupled up, wrapped around each other as they walk down the street. And you feel a little smaller, a little less noticed.
Throw in the fact that all your married and relationship-ed friends are doing husband/family/boyfriend things, and a girl can really go adrift.
You picture the rest of your life as one long, unbroken string of workweeks, and paying every bill yourself, and you are fully there. In an angst ridden Wonderland where your life, in your mid-thirties, does not really resemble the 'standard'.