“Are you Onicia?” I looked around; No one was within shouting distance. “Onicia Muller?” Was this God or schizophrenia? I peered into a nearby bush. If a secret intelligence organisation was recruiting me, I should respond like a Super Spy™.

I was on a dating app looking for lunch. This match promised many firsts: First South Asian guy; first honest short guy; and first charity date. The charity was on both sides – me donating attention and him donating food (hopefully).

Roberto helped a granny board the bus. “Rebecca, you got a dollar?” She was frail, wore thick eyeglasses, and dragged a heavy cart. Yo, don’t butter up the elderly just to beg for pocket change – aim for their wills!

The morning devotional had me on a spiritual high. I wanted to be like Jesus, so I hopped the fence and ditched class. Skipping school to go to the library is like calling in sick to your job for an internship that doesn’t offer college credit.

A warm body to snuggle against, silky-straight hair – winter was going great until my #1 Cuffing Season draft pick asked me to be “more natural.” What’s more natural than rocking your hair as it grows from your scalp?

Obviously, I hated myself because only an enemy would convince me to try online dating. Sadly, I would die single if I kept passively waiting for these raggedy dudes to recognise my Proverbs 31 potential.