Watching your daughter being collected by her date feels like handing over a million dollar Stradivarius to a gorilla.
You should message me if you are Smart, S*xy, Sophisticated, Sassy and Spontaneous.
On our first date, I'll fly you to Paris on my private jet, where we'll watch Celine Dion perform live in concert. After the show, I'll whisk you away to a private beach resort in St. Tropez, just in time to watch the sun set over the glistening water. Or if that doesn't excite you, we could just grab coffee at Starbucks.
I like to flirt with my prefer not to say.
Shoan has not specified any interests yet. Why not get in touch with them to find out more about them?
...and why I now require a phone call before meeting anyone in real life.
Dating is hard enough without adding public embarrassment, security guards, and a runaway train. But here I am, surviving to tell the story. We all know dating comes with risks. Sometimes those risks are emotional, sometimes logistical, and occasionally — like in my case — they involve a fully grown adult collapsing in public places for no logical reason. I had high hopes for this date. We'd met on a dating app, and she seemed genuinely lovely. Our messages flowed effortlessly — witty, playful, even a little flirty in the best possible way. There's something magical about those early conversations where everything feels promising, like this could be the start of something real. In hindsight, I probably should have insisted on a phone call first. That simple, four-minute conversation could have prevented what will forever be filed under "Worst Date of My Entire Life." But no, I was caught in the intoxicating trap of good texting chemistry. And texting chemistry… lies.
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