Once upon a time in the bustling heart of Brooklyn, Sarah swiped right on a guy named Dave who had a charming smile and a peculiar bio that read, “Professional goat whisperer.” Intrigued and slightly amused, she set up a date at a hipster café famous for its artisanal avocado toast. As they sat down, Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. For starters, Dave wore a flannel shirt indoors, and his breath smelled like he’d just spent the afternoon munching on grass. But she shrugged it off—everyone has their quirks. Midway through their conversation about sustainable farming practices, Dave suddenly leaned in, his eyes wide. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. Before Sarah could respond, he whipped out his phone and showed her a video of him performing an interpretive dance with a herd of goats. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he exclaimed, his face radiating pure joy. Sarah blinked, unsure if she should laugh or run. The video was thirty seconds long and included a goat named Gary who clearly wanted no part in Dave's dramatic artistry. “Okay… that’s definitely something,” Sarah said, biting her toast a little too aggressively to cover her discomfort. But Dave wasn’t done. “I have some goat cheese in my bag if you want to try it! I made it myself.” He reached under the table and pulled out a suspicious Tupperware