Aphrodite

You simply have no luck with love and relationships. You've just broken up again, after yet another far too short time, which was preceded by far too long a time as a single person. You really don't feel like dating at the moment, in fact you don't even want to talk to people now. Then you receive an ominous letter, playful, squiggly writing on rose-scented pink paper. It says: “I know about your problem and I have a solution. Meet me here:” This is followed by a street and a house number, somewhere in the industrial district. Your first thought is to throw the letter in the bin. But you put it down instead, and it catches your eye again and again throughout the day. “All right,” you say to yourself, annoyed, ‘it can't get any worse,’ you grab it and go out that evening to this address.