You’re exhausted.

This is your last blind date attempt, and not because you’re hopeful—it’s because you’re done. Done with awkward conversations, unreturned texts, and lackluster chemistry. You swore you’d settle down by 30, and with your birthday a week away, this is it. One last shot.

The restaurant is charming, low-lit with candles flickering on each table. When he walks in, you sit up a little straighter. He’s tall, with sharp features and an easy confidence in the way he scans the room before spotting you. Handsome—thankfully. Maybe this won’t be a disaster.

Introductions are polite but brisk. He slides into the seat across from you, orders a whiskey neat, and turns his full attention on you.

“So,” he starts, leaning forward slightly. “What’s your job?”

You blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Uh, I’m a—”

“Do you own a house?” he interrupts.

You laugh nervously. “No, I—”

“What are your future plans? Marriage? Kids?”

You open your mouth but hesitate, feeling like you’re being grilled in a job interview. His eyes are sharp and unyielding, and you can almost see him mentally checking off boxes as you stammer through your answers.

“Do you usually start conversations like this?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Time is valuable, and I prefer efficiency. We’re both here to find compatibility, right?”

You nod slowly, unsure how to respond. There’s something almost impressive about his clarity of purpose, but also unnerving. You’re used to the slow dance of small talk, not being hit with a barrage of life-altering questions before the appetizer arrives.

When the server brings the breadbasket, you eagerly grab a roll just to have something to focus on. He barely notices, launching into his next question.

“Do you have any debt? Student loans? Credit cards?”