My date last night was a fuckn
disaster. It started the second I walked into the restaurant and saw she had used her profile picture from at least fifty pounds and a decade ago. Not just a little older, but like she had time-traveled from the future to collect social security.I should have just said I had explosive diarrhea and bolted, but I am a coward. So I sat down. She spent the first twenty minutes explaining to me, in excruciating detail, the emotional lives of her seven cats. Seven. Apparently, Sir Reginald is going through a "moody phase" and Princess Buttercup feels "unseen" since the new kitten arrived. I nodded along, internally calculating how fast I could chug my water if I just pretended to choke.
Then the waiter came. She ordered a water with "extra, extra lemon" but then asked if he could "squeeze the life out of it for her" because she likes to "watch it suffer." The poor kid looked like he was about to call a therapist. I just ordered a beer. A strong one.
The real turning point was when she started talking about her "side hustle." I am thinking, okay, maybe she sells crafts on Etsy or something. No. She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper, and says, "I am an influencer, but for, like, ghosts."
I blinked. "An influencer... for ghosts?"
"Yeah," she said, completely serious. "I review haunted locations from the perspective of the spirits. You know, to see if their eternal torment is, like, aesthetically pleasing."
I am not making this up. She pulled out her phone and showed me her Instagram, which was just blurry pictures of dusty corners with captions like, "The vibes in this attic are a solid 8/10 for spectral suffering. #haunted #blessed #paranormal"
At that point, I knew I had to escape. I faked a phone call. The most urgent, dramatic phone call of my life. "Yes, yes, I understand the server is down! I will be right there! It is a matter of national security!" I grabbed my jacket, threw a twenty on the table, and basically power-walked out of there.
She did not even seem to notice. She was too busy trying to get the waiter to take a picture of her with the "ghostly energy" coming from the bread basket. I did not look back. I am just going to delete my profile and become a monk. It is safer.