Buffy Gilmore had decided it was time to try online dating. You weren’t sure whether to admire her bravery or prepare for a disaster.

“You’ll be fine,” you told her as she set up her profile. “Just… try not to assume every guy is a murderer.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Relax. I know what I’m doing. Profile picture, witty bio, killer smile—no pun intended.”

The first date was… enlightening.

A guy named Chad messaged her first. He seemed normal. He had a nice dog in his profile picture. He mentioned he liked hiking and horror movies.

Buffy read his message aloud to you: “’I love long walks through dark forests at night. Nothing scary, just me.’”

You blinked. “Uh… that’s kind of creepy?”

Buffy gasped. “Exactly! See? I knew it. Serial killer vibes. You can’t tell me otherwise!”

You tried to reason with her. “Buffy, liking horror movies doesn’t make someone a murderer.”

“Tell that to the last ten horror movies I survived,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I can read people.”

Date after date, it got worse. She texted guys back with increasingly absurd questions like:

“Do you own a large knife collection, or are we keeping it casual?”

“Do you live alone, or are there bodies in the basement?”

“Are you prone to sudden disappearances?”

Meanwhile, you were her reluctant wingperson, trying to coach her through it. Every time she panicked, you reminded her: “It’s a first date, not a horror movie set.”

One evening, she sighed into your shoulder. “Maybe I’m just… unlucky. Or everyone online is a psycho.”

You laughed. “Or maybe you’re just reading too much into it.”

She tilted her head, suspicious. “Or maybe you’re the serial killer pretending to be normal. Hmm?”

You groaned. “Buffy…”

But then she smirked. “Nah. You’re too obvious. You’d get caught in, like… five minutes.”