“Oh my god,” I suck in a breath, trying to regain control. “Yeah. Yep. Okay. You desperately need help. Alright,” I say, bracing myself. “Tell me about the rest of the date. How did it go?”
“Like… every detail?”
“Yes. I need the full play-by-play so I can assess the level of damage.”
“Okay.” He takes a steadying breath. “We met at the restaurant.”
“First question,” I interrupt. “Did you offer to pick her up?”
“No. She wanted to drive herself.”
“Fine.” I nod once. “But next time, you still offer. Points for effort.”
“Got it.” He immediately reaches into his pocket for that tiny notebook and pen.
I blink “Are you… taking notes?”
“Yes. It helps me process. And later I type them up, so technically I go through them twice.”
I press my lips together, fighting a snarky comment because I know he means well. “Okay. I admire the commitment. What happened next?”
“When I arrived at the restaurant, she was already there, so the hostess walked us to our table.”
“Did you pull out her chair?”
“Yes.”
“Good. At least chivalry isn’t dead.” I roll my hand. “Go on.”
“We sat down. And then I froze.”
“Define froze.”
“I fiddled with my napkin. A lot. And I couldn’t think of anything to say.”
“Do you have nothing in common?”
“I know she’s a librarian. This was our second date.”
“Second?”
“Yes. I asked her out once before.”
“And what did you talk about then?”
He pulls out his phone, scrolls, then turns the screen toward me. “I made a list of questions.”
I stare at him. “Like a job interview?”
“Sort of. It keeps things structured.” He winces. “But I used all of them on the first date.”
“So by date two?—”
“I had nothing left.”
I close my eyes for a brief second. “That feels… rehearsed.”
“I get nervous,” he rushes on. “My brain just shuts down. It’s like I lose control and then I start rambling about random things.”
