You Don't Know Jack Schmidt

I’ve always been the social butterfly.
The girl with an Angry Vagina Box.
The one who goes home with just about anyone for a booty call.
So, why in the hell am I lying in bed alone on a Friday night downloading a dating app onto my phone?
Wait, what? No. Why am I creating a profile?
No, no, fingers! Stop scrolling!
Whoa…he’s cute.
Kind of nerdy chic, but cute.
Ugh! Why am I drooling over this guy who boasts a strong set of morals and only matching socks?
Who the hell is this guy?