I asked her out in our last year of college. Much to my surprise, she consented. A year of glorious bliss went by before she told me the truth: she was a seer, her entire future jotted down in a long bullet list. My name was prominent in several of the entries.
I didn’t mind.
After graduation I took her out for a romantic dinner. Ring in hand, knee approaching carpet, I was about to pop the question when she stopped me mid-motion.
“You’ll have to try harder,” she said, striking an entry from her list. “Be a bit more unpredictable.”