Bonerkiller: Love Lockdowners

You are interested in being my boyfriend. I can tell because within thirty minutes of meeting me you have planned out our entire relationship, which you are eager to outline.

• On our first date, you will take me out for a nice dinner.
  
• On our second date, I'll make you dinner.
  
• On our third date, I'll help you pick out a cat.
  
• On our fourth date, I'll go with you to Target and we'll buy a chaise lounge for your living room.
  
• On our fifth date, we'll go to a pool party at your brother's house where I'll meet your family.
  
• On our sixth date, we'll get married.

Wait, what? I haven't even decided what I'm going do in the next hour and you've already decided on our future children's names. In the time it took to swig a pint, he's put a deposit down on our honeymoon vacation, now has me listed me as his emergency contact at work and has tweaked his will to make sure that I am the sole inheritor of his prized baseball card collection. Talking to you is like watching the final montage sequence of Six Feet Under where we see how all the characters die. Slow down there, Guy. Your rush to lock me in as your future bride is giving me whiplash.

I'm glad you have this all worked out considering that you don't know my last name or how tall I am because I haven't moved from the barstool since you introduced yourself. Although it's flattering that you'd like to be legally bound to me in holy matrimony, your zealousness rocketed from "enchanting" to "alarming" in record time. Uh, no thanks.

Oh, and I'm totally not helping you pick out a cat.