I swiped right on Match and there she was: Sophia, a bio that read “Loves dogs, hates olives, can’t wink.” Clearly, a keeper. We agreed to meet at a coffee shop nestled in the heart of the East Village, where the air smells like ambition and burnt espresso. I arrived first, nervously sipping on my overpriced cold brew while pretending to be deeply engrossed in a book I’d never actually read. Sophia walked in, and I swear, she managed to wink with both eyes. Not in sync, just one after the other. It was like an ocular seesaw, and I was immediately intrigued. The coffee date was more of a sprint than a marathon. We covered everything from our favorite TV shows to who had the better bagels – “Brooklyn, obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes so hard they nearly did a 360. I countered with “Have you tried that little place in Astoria?” and got a half-smile. Score! Then, something changed. Right when we were discussing the universal truth about subway delays, she glanced at her phone, her eyes widening like she’d just seen a ghost; or perhaps, a menu with olives. “I completely forgot I’m double-parked,” she blurted, which, in Manhattan, sounded believable enough. “It was great meeting you,” she said, giving me a smile that somehow managed to be both charming and apologetic. I watched her leave