30.

It's official. I'm either going to die single because I've put myself in a convent or I'll say yes to a marriage proposal I didn't want. Both would be done to avoid awkward dating situations that I apparently find myself in a lot more often than I desire.

Case in point: I somehow agreed to let a middle aged black man buy me a smoothie the next time he sees me.

I'm obviously not equipped to handle myself in the real world.

Sweet Jesus, I'm so awkward.