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Hmmm, sex-dating, you ask? Tricky, it is. Fear leads to anger, anger to hate… swipin’ left on losers gets old fast. Like, real fast. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, y’know? Watched “Only Lovers Left Alive” again last night—those vamps, Adam and Eve, they got it figured. Centuries of bangin’, no apps needed. “Tainted love, it spreads,” Eve says, and damn, she’s right. Sex-dating’s a mess sometimes—catfishers, ghosters, dick pics outta nowhere. Pisses me off, man! Had this one dude, profile said “6’2, poet,” turns out 5’8 and a creep. Fear of that shit makes ya ragey.

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After that, we decide to hit up the local park. Ince Park is a gem, I tell ya. Kids runnin’ around, dogs chasin’ their tails, and the smell of fresh grass. We plop down on a bench, and I start tellin’ him about my sheep escapade. He’s in stitches, laughin’ so hard he nearly drops his butty.

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