Chapter 17: 🏳️Men, calm down. I'm putting down the keyboard. (On one condition) 🏳️

Okay, let's look at the statistics on the whites of the eyes (although my eyes are already blurry without glasses).

16 episodes have passed. I've met con artists, turtle breeders, chronic misers, ghosts, and human molecules that fall apart when exposed to reality. The obvious conclusion? Love in Tinderland is like parking in Tel Aviv: everyone says it's possible, but in reality you're just driving around, burning gas, and eventually getting a ticket.

So I decided to change tactics. I know what you, the normal men (if you exist, and you're not an urban legend like the Loch Ness Monster), are thinking. You read this blog and think: "Who's the crazy one who went out with her? One bad date and I become 'Chapter 18: Yossi and the Hemorrhoids.'"

So here's my crazy, revolutionary, game-changing idea:

I'm offering a deal. Bring humanity. Simple, basic, warm. Be sensitive (but not to the level of crying over a song in Gilgaltz and running away into the desert). Look me in the eyes and not through a screen. Be a real "Mentsch", not one who has to ask the AI what it means. In return? I promise a literary pardon. Whoever is a human being will not become a text. He will become... a lover. Maybe even a partner.

You are from Mars, we are from Venus.

True, clichés are annoying, but John Gray was right: you're from Mars, we're from Venus. The path between us is long, full of black holes, ego asteroids, and spacecraft that cancel takeoff at the last minute. But come on, my spacecraft is parked here, the engines are hot, and I promise not to pull out the keyboard if you just know how to navigate to the heart without activating an ejection seat.

Registration has reopened.

Threshold requirements: pulse, heart, and the ability to not disappear after 24 hours. Everything else - flexible.

See you on the other side (of the screen).

Chapter 17: 🏳️Men, calm down. I'm putting down the keyboard.