I stay well. Thriving, actually. Still the CEO of Solo & Unbothered, conducting my own orchestra while the world hums off-key.
But you knew a month in my life wasn’t closing without at least one romantic comedy audition where nobody gets the part.
So I told myself: Leata, be gracious. Be open. Give the man a fair witness hearing.
And I did.
Then the evidence started piling up like unpaid court fines.
Let me reconstruct the timeline.
I’m in a parking lot near death with a cold, coughing like a vintage engine trying to start in winter. Here comes this man with:
“Oh you too pretty to be sick.”
Sir. Health isn’t a compliment-based immune system.
I tried the ice glare of dismissal. He powered through like solar energy. Against my better judgment… I let the conversation go to trial.
Excerpt from the Case File:
Red Flag 1:
36-year-old man dressed like spring break is his full-time job.
Red Flag 2:
Thirty minutes into meeting him and I already knew:
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who in his family smokes what,
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who lives in his house illegally,
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who he despises by government name,
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his account balance,
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his mechanic’s schedule,
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and a meteorological summary.
This is not introduction. This is deposition.
Red Flag 3:
Education is attractive. Mispronouncing the name of your own college is a felony.
There is no universe where Southern becomes Suh-Da-Ren.
Red Flag 4:
Why are you embracing a woman actively battling airborne pathogens?
Against every better instinct, I handed over an expired business card with the wrong number.
This man located me like a bounty hunter. And yes… a tiny part of me respected the hustle.
Friday comes. Karaoke night. Surely public setting + witnesses means safe.
Wrong again.
He shows up one hour late with a story that didn’t even believe itself.
The rest of the evening unfolded like a behavioral handbook titled “Do Not Do This.”
Forbidden First Date Practices, Volume 36:
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Do not arrive late and then lie badly about why.
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Do not freestyle rap into my ear like Beatboxing is a personality trait.
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If I ask a question, respond with English — not a remix.
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If you’re 36, do not ask me to fund your mixtape era.
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Button your shirt like you acknowledge society exists.
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If your hands resemble 40-grit sandpaper, keep them in your system tray.
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First date is NOT the time to discuss STD testing logistics like it’s appetizer selection.
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If you don’t know a word, please don’t weaponize it.
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“Strong” is not pronounced SCRONG.
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Do not hold a full phone press conference at the table. Take it to the hallway like a civilized adult.
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And for the love of social civics: do not ask me how much to leave for a tip
I should have left.
But there was a magazine at the table and irony writes itself if you give it enough ink.
So no, there will not be a sequel.
Yes, he’s still orbiting like Wi-Fi I never connected to.
And no, I will not be updating this subscription.
Because here’s the truth:
Grace opens the door. Discernment guards the house.
Being open does not mean being unarmed.
Compassion is not a witness protection program for poor behavior.
You can give someone a chance without surrendering your standards.
Some people arrive waving red flags like they’re welcoming you to the fair.
You don’t buy a ticket just because the colors are bright.
Attention is grace. Access is earned. And alignment is required.
Everything else is a story and some are best enjoyed as a lesson, a laugh, and a blog entry.
- Leata
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