"Zoe Dates a Guy Who Only Speaks in Twitter Quotes"
Zoe met him at an open mic night.
He had the beard, the rings, the vintage boots, and the mysterious aura of a man who probably owned at least two crystals and a playlist called Mood (With Intentions).
His name was Trevor, and he opened their conversation with:
"You're giving soft life but with revolutionary undertones. I see you."
Zoe blinked. "Sorry?"
He nodded slowly, gazing at the ceiling like it held the stars.
"It's giving goddess energy. But like... grounded."
She should have walked away.
But she was wearing lashes. And the air smelled like artisanal doughnuts and regret.
So she said, "I'm Zoe."
He responded, "I don't do names. I do vibes."
---
Date #1: Vegan Café
Trevor ordered "air-fried consciousness" and said grace in hashtags:
#Gratitude #CleanEats #ColonialismIsStillAThing
Zoe ordered fries.
He said, "Fries are capitalist distraction carbs."
She said, "They're salty heaven sticks."
He took a selfie mid-chew and captioned it:
"Even when they feed the body, the soul stays hungry. #WokeWithKetchup"
---
Date #2: Art Walk
He wore a trench coat in 28-degree weather.
He paused at a mural of a banana with wings and whispered,
"This is about oppression."
Zoe asked, "Of fruit?"
He shook his head.
"Of the soul. The banana is us."
She smiled politely and updated her WhatsApp status to:
"If he speaks in tweets, does that mean I'm dating a thread?"
---
Date #3: His Apartment
Minimalist.
One bean bag, three incense sticks, and a projector playing lo-fi anime edits.
He handed her a smoothie. "It's got matcha, moringa, and multigenerational healing."
Zoe sipped.
It tasted like blended plants and accountability.
He looked at her and said seriously,
"If we kiss, it's not just a kiss. It's the collapse of ancestral trauma."
Zoe nodded. "Okay, I think I need a nap. And maybe therapy."
---
Later that night, she texted Pauline:
Zoe: "I went out with a man who only speaks in social media captions."
Pauline: "That's not a man. That's a walking TED Talk with lips."
---
At breakfast the next morning, Pauline passed her a plate of pancakes and said:
"Don't date philosophers who haven't healed from their poetry phase. You'll end up crying in someone's bean bag chair."
Zoe sighed. "It's wild out here."
Sir Squawksalot added, "Hashtag dump him."