I walked into a new coffee shop this morning, and the vibe was just right.

So before I even ordered, I meticulously scouted the perfect table for my 'protagonist deep in thought' moment, complete with a dramatic sip and a pensive stare out the window.

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.

I spent all of Sunday morning meticulously meal-prepping, labeling containers, feeling like a domestic goddess of wellness.

By Tuesday evening, I was eating lukewarm cheese straight from the block, staring wistfully at those perfectly portioned quinoa bowls.

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.