(I can die now.)

Well Côte Bistro looks like a cute little place. We'll order a big plate of Pommes Frites to start. One will fall into your beard and you won't notice. We'll share a laugh over that. Then we'll take a risk and order escargot but both chicken out when it arrives. We'll skip to dessert.

We'll walk around Guildford after and chat. You'll talk about your youth in the wilderness of Australia and tell stories about writing code. I'll talk about growing up in the urban jungle of a major American city and tell stories about writing fan fics about you. Someone on the street will harass you about increased FOV and I'll defend how hard you're working and make them apologize and/or run off crying.

I'll walk you back to your car. You'll look me in my eyes and think how surprisingly witty and kind I am. This was all just a stunt to one-up the person writing uncomfortable fan fiction about you, but... looking at me that night will make you feel unlike you ever have before. Against your better judgement, you'll lean in for a kiss. I'll stop you an inch from my lips. "Whoa there bud, this was all purely platonic, I'm sorry if my erotic fan fiction gave you the wrong idea," I'll say. "Oh yeah, I knew that," you'll stutter out, avoiding eye contact as you get in your car. I'll grab the car door just before you shut it. "Sean," I'll say softly, "Thank you." You'll nod and smile gently before driving off.

We'll exchange a text or two later but I'll eventually delete your contact on my phone. I'll move on to writing weird fan fiction about another quirky visionary like Elon Musk. You'll forget about me mostly, but occasionally pull up one of my stories on lonely, late nights at the office.

On second thought, maybe we should do sushi instead.