Alright, buckle up, because I’m about to tell you the absolute most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me on a date. And trust me, I’ve had my fair share of moments that would make a romcom protagonist pack up and switch to a life of solitude in the mountains. But this one? This one takes the cake, the bakery, and the entire pastry industry.

So, picture this: I went on a date with a man who was single… yet very much accounted for, if I’m being honest. We had a mutual friend who had, in a way, introduced us, and I had spent a good amount of time actively dodging him. Why? Three reasons:

1. He was Nigerian.
2. He was Nigerian.
3. He was Nigerian… and for 11 months out of the year, very much not single.

But who was I to deny myself a good time? And a good time we had. We had been lurking in each other’s Close Friends stories for a while, so it felt like we had known each other forever, which was actually the truth—because he was a DOG a pit bull to be exact, and I was a peacock mixed with a swan. A black swan, to be exact.

For our date, we had planned to go to Topgolf, which sounds cute, right? WRONG. This man did not make reservations. ON. A. SATURDAY. And when we arrived, he had the audacity to be shocked that it was packed. Now, being the Gemini he is, he did what Geminis do best acted a whole fool. He tried to buy a spot, and when the employee wasn’t budging, he hit him with:

“You work at Topgolf. I know you need this money, bro.”

I, being mortified but also internally screaming with laughter, immediately apologized while he stormed off in full Gemini theatrics. Since I am the queen of problem-solving (and avoiding secondhand embarrassment), I made a reservation and suggested we kill time at a bowling alley across the street.

Now, let me tell you, things at this bowling alley were out of pocket in the best way possible. I was getting complimented left and right by men, by women, by bartenders, by the spirit of the bowling alley itself while he was getting absolutely dragged.

The employees started calling him Kevin Hart (he was short and loud, so fair), random strangers were asking why I was with him, and my personal favorite moment was when I made him get us a full pitcher of Hennessy and Coke. And yes, we were the only Black people in this entire establishment, making the situation even funnier.

Fast forward we’re tipsy, having a great time, and finally, it’s time to head back to Topgolf. And y’all, at this point, I was blitzed. Like, my golf swing was looking more like a game of whack-a-mole than anything remotely athletic. I don’t know if I was swinging at the ball or fighting my own coordination, but I do know that in the midst of all this, I managed to knock over seven glass cups. SEVEN.

Somehow, despite his earlier Gemini theatrics, he wasn’t the public spectacle of the night anymore I was. The man who walked in thinking he was king of the jungle was now just a tired zookeeper, trying to wrangle his wild, slightly tipsy peacock-swan hybrid back into civilization.

But wait, there’s more! On my way out, I had to use the bathroom, and that’s when I met the three sweetest drunk girls ever. You know the ones those drunk girl angels in the bathroom who hype you up like it’s their divine mission? They were telling me I was beautiful, that I deserved the world, and that he was the problem. And you know what? I did not believe them.

So, in true drunk girl fashion, I stumbled out of that bathroom, looked at him, and thought: You know what? They’re wrong. It’s HIM.

Fast forward—we had a nightcap. Am I proud? Not particularly. Do I regret it? Not at all. But the real embarrassing part? The fact that after everything, we ended up geting in a nasty fight about a month after and blocking and unblocking each other twice and are currently on our third go-round.

Because here’s the thing I knew he was a dog, and he knew I was a stunning, elegant, slightly chaotic peacock-swan, yet we both decided to tango and take turns seeing who could be the bigger public embarrassment.

And honestly? I wouldn’t change a thing. That date built character and taught me one of life’s most valuable lessons: maybe, just maybe, we should all have a little shame sometimes.