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Hmmm, sex-dating, you ask? Tricky, it is. Fear leads to anger, anger to hate… swipin’ left on losers gets old fast. Like, real fast. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, y’know? Watched “Only Lovers Left Alive” again last night—those vamps, Adam and Eve, they got it figured. Centuries of bangin’, no apps needed. “Tainted love, it spreads,” Eve says, and damn, she’s right. Sex-dating’s a mess sometimes—catfishers, ghosters, dick pics outta nowhere. Pisses me off, man! Had this one dude, profile said “6’2, poet,” turns out 5’8 and a creep. Fear of that shit makes ya ragey.

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But then, the day took a turn. I’m walking back, and I see this stray cat. It’s just chilling on the sidewalk, looking all cute. I’m like, “Aww, hey little buddy!” But then, it hisses at me! Like, excuse me? I’m just trying to be friendly! I laughed it off, but seriously, what’s with the attitude?

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