Shani Leiman with Zivia Reischer
S ruly Geldwirth called me on the way home from his date. “That was not a date,” he told me. “That was an interview!”
I could hear a honk and the squeal of tires.
“And not just any interview,” he continued. “An über intense interview. She shot me questions one after the other, like I was on some kind of game show or something.” Now I could hear him honking. “Watch how you drive,” he muttered. Then, “I didn’t have a second to catch my breath. This was, like, the most unenjoyable date ever.”
“Sounds pretty bad,” I said.
“Yeah.” I could hear the ignition dinging, then a door slam. The background noise faded.
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