Enjoyed a leisurely Sunday afternoon at my favorite happy hour spot, devouring my latest library find.
Guy seated next to me: “How is it you’re single?!”
I looked up from my book, propped my elbow up on the bar and rested my chin in my hand.
“Forgiving the presumptive and irksome nature of your question, the answer is as follows:
Besides the overwhelmingly disappointing inability to step it up to my level, the men who lackadaisically profess interest are petrified to send me grammatically incorrect texts.”