C.C. is nearly 40, and apart from her real name—which she hates with a passion usually reserved for men with beards—everything in her life seems wonderful. She has a high-powered job in advertising, a beautiful apartment in Primrose Hill, and a wild bunch of gay friends to spend the weekends with. And yet she feels like the Titanic—slowly, inexorably, and against all expectation, sinking. The truth is, C.C. would rather be digging turnips on a remote farm than convincing the masses to buy a life-changing pair of double-zippered jeans, would rather be snuggling at home with the Missing Boyfriend than playing star fag-hag in London's latest coke-spots. But sightings of straight men that don't have weird fetishes or secret wives are rarer than an original metaphor, and C.C. fears that pursuing the Good Life alone will just leave her feeling even more isolated. Could her best friend's pop-psychology be right—are the horrors of C.C.'s past preventing her from moving on? And if C.C. finally does confront her demons, will she find the Missing Boyfriend, or is it already too late?