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Me:Fine. Just stop texting me and enjoy your date.
Nate:Don’t see how that’s possible, but okay. Goodnight, Lottie.
Me:Goodnight Nate.
Nate:Did I do something to offend you or piss you off somehow?
Me:No. Why would you ask that?
Nate:Because this one is even worse than the one with the cat.
Me:Nate…
Nate:I’m serious. This one can’t stop talking about puzzles. PUZZLES!!! Seriously?!
Me:Maybe she’s trying to break the ice by sharing her hobbies with you.
Nate:Or maybe she’s trying to kill me slowly from boredom. I feel like I’m dying.
Me:You’re not dying, Nate.
Nate:You sure? Because I definitely feel like I’m losing brain cells just listening to this woman talk.
Me:Try to talk about your own hobbies. Maybe that will move the conversation along.
Nate:She won’t let me. I haven’t gotten a word in since I walked into the restaurant.
Me:I’m sure you’re exaggerating.
Nate:I wish. Another dud.
Me:Women aren’t duds!
Nate:Well, if they were, you sure have a knack for finding them for me. You sure I didn’t piss you off? This feels like torture.
Me:You didn’t piss me off, and a date is not torture.
Nate:Sure fucking feels like it to me.
Me:Just give it a chance.
Nate:Whatever. Just find me a new one.
Me:You haven’t even finished that date yet, and you already want me to set you up with someone else?
Nate:That should tell you something.
Me:Fine. I’ll set it up.
Nate:Thank you. Goodnight Lottie.
Me:Goodnight, Nate.
Me:The date must be going off well. You haven’t texted me once all night.
Nate:Promise you won’t get mad?
Me:Why? What did you do?
