and it’s been 140 days since my last date.

Actually that doesn’t sound like that many days written out.

It’s been 5 months since my last date.

That sounds a little more significant.

Tonight someone did the “here’s my number let’s hang out” and I’m already trying to think of a way out.

I don’t wanna go on a date. Dates are hard. It’s cold out. I like knitting. There’s a stressful amount of tv to catch up on. TV like Lifetime’s The Good Mistress, in which a lovely girl goes on a first date that ends in sexy time and the realization that the date is her “best friend’s” husband. What kind of best friendship allows you to have never met your best friend’s husband, I can’t say, but suddenly she’s a mistress, and a good one at that, except she just tries to stay away from the guy while he threatens to kill her. I also don’t know what kind of friendly small town harbors a politician known for killing people, but I am not a screenwriter. And also reality star Donald Trump is our president and America is harboring him.

See, is it really worth a drink and an awkward conversation if I have to miss that?