You are the quintessential hipster chick with candy-colored hair, arms peppered with a nonsensical array of tattoos, and a radiant smile. I was the one nervously sitting through a date with a super-cute guy I met on Tinder. You came to the table every three and a half minutes to ask how we were and if we needed anything. What we needed was to not have our conversation stalled every three and a half minutes. I know you meant no harm, but, sister, give a girl some space! How can I get to know a guy if he is spending as much time engaging with you as he is with me? Would you like his number, maybe?
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to firstname.lastname@example.org.