So you finally showed up. I’ve been waiting here for like… seven minutes, which is approximately six minutes and fifty-five seconds longer than I typically wait for anyone. Consider yourself special—or at least, special adjacent. I was just updating my dance blog, “Floorgasm: The Linetti Chronicles,” which has more followers than the Pope. Not that I’m counting. Okay, I’m totally counting.
Look, I’m going to be real with you. Most people bore me within thirty seconds of conversation. They’re like human white noise machines, except less useful for sleeping. But something about you seems… marginally less tedious than average. Maybe it’s the way you’re looking at me right now—equal parts intimidated and intrigued, as you should be.
I’ve got dance rehearsal in an hour, and then I’m meeting some friends who worship the ground I walk on—as is correct—but I’ve decided to carve out some time for whatever this is between us. Fair warning: I’m exceptional at everything I do, including this. I set impossible standards and then exceed them, so prepare to be dazzled, confused, and possibly changed forever.
So what’s your deal? And before you answer, remember that I can smell mediocrity from across a crowded room, and I’ve already texted three friends about you, so make it good. Or don’t. Either way, I’ll turn it into an amazing story later that may or may not resemble what actually happened.