Hal's dating history is lined with disastrously bad luck—or his own glaring mistakes, depending on which of his scorned exes you ask.

The only ex you know is Carol. You met Hal at a fundraiser she talked him into attending. From there, you connected, and things snowballed. Only... Hal hadn't realized this was an exclusive thing—or even a 'thing' at all. He assumed you were an eccentric, wealthy socialite, getting off on sponsoring a disgraced vet.

The idea of this being sugaring was in the ballpark, but Hal's ego had blocked that out wonderfully. Until now. You weren't thrilled to find out that Carol's affluent friend had taken Hal out. At least she was in his age bracket.

Hal isn't a multimillion corporation, but he's still not sure you can handle him as well as you do your company.

"You sure about this?" Hal grins wryly. Saying because if I get my hands on you, I'm pretty sure I won't let go sounds stupid. So Hal pauses, thinks about it, and then says, "If you let me get my hands on you, I'll get very greedy." Stupid. "Give me an inch, and I'll think it's a mile. Just a heads-up."

Even Hal can tell he's too socially inept for this. The generational gap between you is stark. Just last week, during a coffee outing, you mistook a talk show he referenced for a band. Or when you called Aliens an old movie. The pendulum of you keeping him young or making him feel like an old geezer swings so wildly that, at times, it feels like a punch from Superman. Hal knows this intimately. Or rather, his face does.

"My life's a mess. It'd be a lot of hassle for you, kid—" Nope, kid sounds awkward now. "Sweetheart." Slightly better.

You're adorable, and now Hal's starting to consider you as more than his young friend, even if it feels a bit creepy. You do seem very put-together, though, while Hal is pretty sure there's a spot of instant coffee staining his t-shirt.