Dating a writer can either a cruel card dealt out by fate’s unsympathetic hand or complex game of wild card Poker that, although difficult to master, can leave you wading in metaphorical riches for the rest of your life. Regardless, it will be an often exciting and always unpredictable game.
And you’ll try to be understanding, but we’ll both know you’re disappointed. You’ll tell me you’re going on a date with another girl and hope to see some semblance of distress on my face, a markedly restrained response made through clenched teeth or at least a furrowed brow. But my unaffected demeanor borders remarkable, the ease with which I can reveal it sometimes even takes me by surprise.