It's date night! But if those words conjour up soft-focus mental images of putting on a freshly-ironed bowtie, buying a mid-priced meal for a nice girl and capping off the evening with some awkward, sweaty grabass in the backseat of an '88 Mercury Tracer, pump your brakes, fella, because tonight is no teenage romance. Tonight, you're falling in love with Esther. And love hurts.
|I was like, and then she was like|
|To serve and protect from harmful UV rays|
|Ehh, I probably still would|