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Dating is the worst. Oh well, at least your hair looks good. Keep it shiny and frizz-free with Garnier, and you'll have #OneLessGirlProblem.
The foot sadness is real. This was a big mistake. Big. HUGE.
You were looking forward to a date with a tall dark-haired pillar of man, but you’re actually sitting across from an average blonde dude who probably owns a lizard. What is happening.
Like the guy who brags about his fantasy team five times before the appetizers arrive. Boring! "Lets talk about me now."
"Cool. Thanks for letting me know."
Like, he loves "rap and country," and you're worried your tastes are too niche, and are you destined to be single forever?
It’s cool, you’ll just sit there.
OH-NO-SOMETHING-BAD-HAPPENED-GTG-K-THANKS-BYE.
You're borderline hysterical. Is this embarrassing? They look worried.
Like, you keep saying “like” way more often than you actually, like, do in real life. HELP.
Welcome to Drunk Town, population: your face. Now your date knows how many kids you want, and what their names will be, aaaaand there's probably not going to be a second date.
Do you have spinach in your teeth? Bathroom break. BREAK TIME.
Should you split the check? Should you pay? Should he pay? SKLGIQ%USLGH.
Or, basically hugging/knocking into each other and rushing in opposite directions.