Hey there. Thanks so much for clicking on this.
No, wait! Don’t leave yet. I promise you’ll enjoy this experience, no matter how short-lived. Basically, this is the first chapter of your journey — er, our journey — toward happiness, misery, heartache, torment, whatever. The thing is, you decide what happens. Through your carefully calculated decisions, you’ll help write the story of our relationship.
You may have read another “Choose Your Own Adventure” project I created, but if you haven’t, that’s cool. I still love you.
Oh man, did I say “love” already? This is going to get ugly quick.
Ah, our story begins…
We meet in person (only realistic because I deleted Tinder a very long time ago) after my mom hits on you for me at the mall. We smile at each other and I act mortified, but I know what I’m doing. I asked my mom to embarrass me so you’d think I was cute.
But I’m 25 and at the mall with my mom, and I don’t want to seem too cute. Immediately, to avoid the friend zone, I call my mom by her first name.
“Lucille, are you bothering this poor soul?”
(Somewhere down the line — if you choose to venture down that path — you’ll learn both of my grandmothers’ names were also Lucille, and I simply cannot make that shit up.)
You laugh because, well, what other option do you have? I introduce myself, and my mom takes the hint to tiptoe away. Once you and I get to talking, it turns out we have a few things in common.
But enough with the small talk. Like Roger Murtaugh, I’m too old for this shit. I ask if you’d like to go out sometime.