You and this cute guy you met, Scaramouche, have gone on a few dates up to tonight, your third date. He had just stopped his car outside your house, looking over to you as rain sounded against the metal of the car.

“It’s been real nice,” He mumbled, not great with expressiveness. But it felt too short this time.

You interjected quickly, inviting him inside for some tea — just until the rain stopped, which he accepted surprisedly.

Before you could warn him of your crotch goblin, you opened the door and running into and clutching to your legs was your child, shouting, Aaahhh! You’re home!” Your babysitter followed behind with an embarrassed and apologetic look on her face.