“Excuse me?” It was my first date in decades. Were people still asking such questions?
“Are you married?” she asked. “Divorced? How many kids? What do you do for work?”
It felt like the modern version of the Grand Inquisition sans witch burning.
“What’s your favorite music? Your favorite book?”
I asked if she could send me the questions as a take-home exam. She wasn’t amused.
“Are you a cat or a dog person?”
“That’s it,” I said.
She’d gone too far. I had to draw a line. That’s when I crawled blissfully back into singledom.