I took her to a super cool underground speakeasy in LA, one of those places no one knows about. She ordered a Midori Sour and told me she doesn’t really like to drink (red flag, I’m a partier), she hates bars (second red flag, I love a good bar, and quite a few bad ones), her aspiration in life is to be a stay at home mom and have an army of kids (Oof those red flags just keep comin’), and she’s a virgin (at 28?!?! Strike four—I’m out!). Then she says she feels feverish and wants to leave—NOW. She pukes twice on the way back to her place and is burning up when I drop her off. She’s so sick I have to help her to her door and awkwardly meet her parents while she retches. Oh yeah—she lived with her parents too. Of course within a few days I’m sick as a dog too, with one of the worst stomach flu’s I’ve ever had.

Our son says it sounds like a terrible first date but honestly, it coulda been worse.