**Title: Love in the Time of "Why Am I Here?"** So, let’s set the scene: I matched with a charming fella on Hinge who proclaimed himself a "worldly soul"—which I soon learned simply meant he had a gym membership in three neighborhoods and a well-practiced line about being "spontaneous." Our first date took place at a trendy bar that served overpriced cocktails in mason jars because apparently, we’re all hipsters now. He arrived wearing a shirt so tightly fitted it must have had a restraining order against oxygen. As he sat down, he flashed a smile that could only be rivaled by the “Deal or No Deal” guy when he opens the briefcase. We exchanged pleasantries about our favorite travel destinations—he said "Eastern Europe," and I said "the inside of my fridge" because that’s where I truly feel, y’know, comfortable. As the conversation flowed, I began to feel like I was chatting with a charismatic used car salesman. Between the “Oh, you love hiking?” and “Isn’t that just like SO interesting?” I started to wonder if he had a list of questions stuck to the bottom of his drink. A few cocktails in, he leaned in conspiratorially and revealed his *secret* dream: to open a bar where people would just come in to drink and not talk about their feelings. A real groundbreaker, right? I mean, who wants