You said a man with a plan. I raise you an official plan.
One carefully orchestrated evening. Zero winging it. Probably.
What follows is a fully documented evening itinerary. Exit points are clearly marked. I thought of everything.
This is not a trap. (It is slightly a trap. The good kind.)
* If a night frees up before Tuesday, the movie option is always on the table early. The plan is flexible. The snacks are not perishable.
I found a sushi spot. Before you Google it, I know. It looks exactly like a Happy Ending Massage Parlor. The parking lot is giving cash only, no eye contact. I chose not to investigate further.
Do not be fooled. Inside is genuinely, embarrassingly good sushi. Zero Instagram presence. Full dining room on a Tuesday. The only thing they're rolling here is maki, and it goes hard.
Not the actual restaurant. Accurate energy. Trust the process.
Dinner was a 6/10 or below? We call it a cultural experience, you go home, and we never speak of the parking lot again. Zero awkwardness. You were warned about the location.
My place. A movie. A soft ass blanket big enough to share. Snacks are provided, including candy. I'm an above average cuddler, that's documented. The movie may or may not be watched.
I can tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue. Roll credits. The night ends. Or...
This is the vibe. Trust the blanket.
Credits roll and the night ends there. I walk you to your car. That's a great evening. Or neither of us moves, and we find out what kind of night this actually is.
At any point. For any reason. No explanation needed, no weird energy after. You call it, I respect it, we're still good. The door is always just a door.