I was at a coffee shop the other day, meticulously arranging my scarf, latte, and phone to achieve peak 'effortlessly chic' aesthetic.

Meanwhile, my brain was just frantically trying to recall if I turned off the curling iron.

He said I was 'too picky' because I wanted a guy who could hold a conversation and, you know, ideally have a job.

Meanwhile, his dating profile said 'seeking a woman who's naturally gorgeous, a gourmet chef, and loves watching all 8 seasons of my favorite anime.' Pretty sure we have different definitions of 'picky,' fellas.

I went to the grocery store to pick up some milk, but as I was walking down the aisle, I felt the urge to add some flair to my shopping experience.

So, I started voicing my inner monologue out loud, 'I'll just grab this gallon of 2%... the choice of a woman who's given up on love, but still holds on to hope... and also needs cereal for the week.'

My date told me he loved how 'effortless' I looked.

I almost choked on my perfectly-crafted oat milk latte, knowing my 'effortless' bun took three attempts, a handful of bobby pins, and a silent internal scream.