I just returned from the dinner party. It was for Mark, my best friend since kindergarten, and Sarah, his new fiancée. She seems perfectly adequate. Pleasant demeanor, stable career in accounting, no overt red flags. I even gave the toast. A well-received performance, I believe, based on the perfunctory applause and several pats on the back from relatives I haven't seen since the last major life event. My delivery was smooth, hitting all the requisite notes: humor about their initial awkwardness, sentimentality about their future, genuine enthusiasm for their happiness. What I didn't verbalize, of course, was the pervasive sense of internal discord. The incongruity between my external presentation and internal state is becoming increasingly pronounced. While I articulated congratulations, a distinct undercurrent of something… else… was present. It wasn't envy, not precisely. More like a pervasive, low-level irritation. Mark, who has historically exhibited a less-than-optimized approach to personal relationships, has now secured what society deems a "successful outcome." Meanwhile, I, having meticulously pursued various dating methodologies for the better part of a decade—online platforms, social events, even a brief, ill-advised foray into a singles hiking group—remain in a state of unpartnered stasis. It's a data point that consistently defies my statistical predictions. I keep replaying the scene. Everyone was so genuinely HAPPY. A collective effervescence. And I was part of it, smiling, laughing, raising my glass. The whole performance. I observed my own hand shaking slightly as I clinked glasses, a minor physiological aberration I quickly suppressed. It’s not sadness. It's more like... a malfunction. A system error. My emotional apparatus seems to be generating an output inconsistent with the input. The expectation is joy for a friend. The experience is... this. This quiet hum of discontent. I need to get some sleep. The commute tomorrow is going to be brutal.