A couple weeks ago, I went on a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad date.

This date was the queen-mother of horrible dates. Sitting through the entirety of the date was like having to poop at your friend’s house while everyone is waiting for you in the other room: awkward, time-consuming, and painful to imagine other people overhearing it.

In fact, continuing with this metaphor—since love and shit are so interwoven—this date made me feel like someone intentionally squatted over my hopes and dreams, with particularly hairy upper thighs, and just let loose.

Too graphic? I’m sorry, I’m just trying to give you some small glimmer of how uncomfortable I felt that night. Is it working? Do you feel uncomfortable? Excuse me while I also force my political views on you and resort to chucking a fork at you from across the dinner table when you refuse to agree with each and every one of my political views (aka the best ones).

As soon as my date and I laid eyes on one another, I knew. I think he knew, too. The world has approximately 7.4 billion people. As humans, we like to force meetings via social media and online dating. But sometimes, two people out of those 7.4 billion are just not supposed to meet.

I had a frantic urge to shut the door on the heavy awkward tension between us. Mayday, mayday! Abort! Game over!

Looking back, I wish I had. Doing so would have saved us both about 15 bucks, the most strained dinner conversation of our lives, and on his part, a tiny rant from a cranky blonde lady (whoops).

But how does one shut a door on one’s date, immediately after seeing their face, without turning into the world’s biggest jackass?

Here’s how: One does not. When a person slams the door on another person’s face immediately after seeing them for the first time, one becomes the world’s biggest jackass. Not to mention extremely vain and incredibly judgmental.

So yeah. I pretended like I wasn’t a vain asshole. I opened the door, and we went on a date. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad date.

The only good that came out of the hours of torturous attempts at basic connection (“Do you read at all?” “No.” “Nothing at all?” “No.” “…”).4 I did eat a Brickroom burger. And it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single girl can never regret a Brickroom burger.

Dating is the worst. Next time I have a chance to go on a blind date, I’m going to nope the heck out of there, bundle myself in a burrito of blankets, and watch "Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt."

Or maybe I’ll move to Australia.