So, there I was, scrolling through Facebook, minding my own business when I saw a match pop up in my messages. His name was Derek, and his profile was a delightful mix of hiking photos and those “I love my dog” posts. Plus, he was a self-proclaimed “adventure enthusiast,” which, let’s be real, sounded much cooler than "I sit on the couch and binge-watch Netflix." We started chatting, and things were going swimmingly until Derek suggested we meet up at this trendy little café known for its organic, gluten-free kale smoothies. I was down, because hey, anything that isn’t a potato chip is a win in my book. Fast forward to the meeting day. I walk into the café feeling like a total snack, ready to see if he lived up to his profile hype. But, the moment I spotted him, I felt like I’d walked onto the set of a low-budget horror film. Derek was sitting at a table with his golden retriever, who was wearing a little bandana that said “I love my hooman.” Cute, sure, but then I noticed that Derek was wearing an actual dog costume. Like, full-on fur, floppy ears, the whole shebang. “Woof!” he grinned, and I realized we must have interpreted things differently. I thought he was talking about loving adventures and the great outdoors, but he apparently took “adventure” as an invitation to live out