So, I matched with this pretty hot chick on a dating app. Her profile pics were like a rock concert—edgy, confident, and she had a small but unmistakable face tattoo. I thought, Wow, she must be artistic, deep, or at least way out of my league. Maybe she’s a tattoo artist who got a little too carried away with her own canvas, like a Picasso who accidentally painted a grocery list.
We met at a coffee shop, and she was even more stunning in person. But as I got closer, I realized her face tattoo was… a barcode. Like, the kind you see on a can of beans. My brain immediately went into a frenzy. Is she secretly a robot? A human QR code? If I scan her, will I get a discount on something? Maybe a lifetime supply of awkward first dates or a free upgrade to my dating app profile.
Trying to keep my cool, I casually asked, “So, does your tattoo have any special meaning?”
She smirked. “Yeah, it’s my ex’s favorite energy drink.”
I nearly spilled my coffee. “Wait, what?”
She laughed. “Nah, just messing with you. I lost a bet.”
A bet. This woman permanently marked her face because of a bet. I was both horrified and deeply, deeply impressed. Maybe she’s a professional gambler who just couldn’t resist the thrill of a lifetime tattoo, like betting your house on a game of rock-paper-scissors.
Fast forward to the end of the date, and things are going great. We’re walking outside when a guy at the checkout stand of a convenience store yells, “Hey! Can I scan your face? I need a price check on Red Bull!”
I thought she’d be annoyed, but she just shouted back, “Nah, babe, I’m premium. No discounts!”
I knew right then—this woman was either the love of my life or my future greatest regret. Either way, I was in. Maybe she’s just really good at making me laugh, even if it means I’ll never forget the time she turned into a human barcode. Or maybe she’s a secret agent on a mission to infiltrate the energy drink industry, and I’m just her cover story.
She’s got the sizzle of a jalapeño and the humor of a stand-up comedian, but I can’t help but wonder if she accidentally used a Sharpie instead of a tattoo machine. Why turn a beautiful face into a permanent game of “Where’s Waldo?” with a giant ink blot? I’m disappoint!
