JULIA
What did I expect? I should’ve known better.
Sarah had always been terrible at setting up blind dates. Every single one was a story worth locking away in a vault and never speaking of again.
And yet here I was, sitting across from another disaster in the making.
I could still vividly recall the rapper who had forced me to listen to his entire mixtape. In his car. For two hours. He’d bobbed his head to his own lyrics, snapping his fingers off-beat, waiting for my reaction like I’d tell him he was the next Kendrick Lamar.
Spoiler alert: he wasn’t.
Then there was the guy who had dreams of becoming a professional clown. He made me mime with him for an hour in his living room because he believed in “interactive bonding.” I had never wanted to scream more in my life.
And let’s
