When you don’t ask the right questions ...

Jenna nodded to the host, “Yes, this is good. Thank you,” and he walked away, leaving her to settle into her seat.

She ordered a white wine, pulled out her smartphone, and opened her dating app. She clicked the link to Ryan’s profile, and his head-shot popped up. A quiet “ouf” escaped her. He was one good-looking man: large brown eyes, barely tamed short, dark curls, planed cheeks, strong jaw. The pic caught his bare shoulders … generally she didn’t like men who took shirtless pics, but Ryan's muscles overrode her generalizations. They had swapped several messages, and she found him funny, interesting and a bit mysterious.

Shortly, Jenna heard heavy clopping. “No,” she thought, “Nooo ...,” her head jerked up from her phone and sure enough, there was Ryan, coming toward her. Jenna felt her eyes widen, and a furious fog filled her brain.

She violently jumped up from her seat. Unaware of Jenna’s interior rage, Ryan smiled his sweet, handsome smile as he reached his hand out to shake hers. As he did, his tail suddenly swished forward, startling a fly that had landed on his shoulder. 

Jenna lost it.

“You know,” she snarled, and Ryan’s friendly smile froze. Jenna continued, “it’s not like I’m a specieist or anything, but you could have told me you’re a CENTAUR! Asshole.”

Jenna pushed past Ryan and his extended hand, slammed her smartphone into her bag and stomped out of the restaurant.