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Little known fact, tho—back in the 90s, before apps, folks used newspaper ads for hookups. Called ‘em “personal columns.” Horny losers writin’, “Man seeks woman, no strings, must like cats.” Imagine the balls it took! No pics, just vibes. Now we got dick pics flyin’ left n’ right—progress, huh? Makes me laugh, but also kinda pissed. Where’s the mystery? Everybody’s oversharin’. “We’re gonna find out who did this,” like the *Spotlight* team, but in sex-dating, it’s more like, “Who’s gonna screw me over next?”

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, really rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I dash for cover under this awning, and guess who’s there? The barista from earlier! He’s laughing, and I’m like, “Dude, you jinxed me with that tree bark coffee!” We end up chatting, and he tells me about the best spots in Bilgaard. Apparently, there’s a hidden park with the biggest oak tree. I’m all in.