Fair. And true.
But this is exactly the kind of hazardous situation I find myself in when I linger in society past sundown– two young people were having a perfectly lovely first date and I interrupted it, arms flailing, screaming, “Little Michael?!?! Is that YOU?!?!?”
Zero chance he got laid after that.
I’m never leaving the couch again.
Sorry, Little Michael.
(For interrupting your date. And for calling you “Little Michael.” Last night and in this post. Also, sorry about this post).