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Worst part? The awkward intros. “Hey, u up?” Cringe, fam. I’d rather die. One time, matched with a poet—her opener was “Roses are red, let’s bang.” I’m deadass laughin, like, “Aight, respect.” Didn’t work out, tho—she ghosted mid-haiku. Sex-dating’s a gamble, bruh. You win some, lose most. Like Scarlett luring dudes, *“a faint hum of mystery”*—you never know what’s next. I’m obsessed with the absurdity. Carl the iguana still haunts me. What’s your take, fam? Hit me up.

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I finally decide to head home. I’m walking down the narrow lanes, and I see this old lady struggling with her shopping bags. I rush over, feeling like a superhero. “Need a hand, ma’am?” She looks at me like I’m a weirdo. “I’m fine, dear. Just a bit slow.” I mean, come on! I’m just trying to be nice!

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