JD: My brother and sister have spouses, so that only adds to the glaringly obvious notion I am the only one without another half.

JD: My mom was so happy when I said I was bringing someone—I knew I couldn’t reveal the truth to her once I started fibbing. That’s where you come in.

JD: I know it’s horrible.

RB: Tsk, tsk, JD. It’s not cool you lied to your mom, but I can understand why you did.

RB: You were pressured and thought of an immediate solution. Deceiving people can be tough. It’s one thing to say you have a significant other. Bringing someone to an event is a serious commitment to the lie. I want to make sure you understand that.

JD: Shit. I never thought of it like that. I’m an asshole for roping you into the lie.

JD: I know it’s your job, but is it ever icky to you?

RB: Occasionally. It’s a tough line to toe.

RB: On one hand, I’m helping someone out who appreciates me being there. On the other hand, I’m encouraging dishonest behavior. I go back and forth.

RB: Regardless, I’m here to help you. And I’ll do that however I can.

JD: That’s great to hear. Hopefully you don’t think I’m an asshole right off the bat.

JD: I’ve felt sick over it ever since. I debated not even reaching out to you.

RB: You seem sincerely upset. You don’t strike me as a bad person, and I’m sticking with my gut instinct.

JD: I’m glad I have your stamp of approval.

JD: What are you up to?

RB: I’ll tell you, only if you don’t judge me.

JD: I think it’s pretty obvious I’m not in any position to judge anyone.

RB: Fair. I’m sitting on my couch.

JD: That’s hardly lame.

RB: In my sweatpants.

JD: Also not lame. Sweatpants are my jam.

JD: Honestly, RB. You’re kind of letting me down here.

RB: Watching The Great British Bake Off!

JD: What in the world is that?

RB: You’ve never heard of GBBO?!

JD: I can’t say that I have and now I feel like I’m missing out. Tell me more.

RB: Oh it’s incredible! A British baking show where they eat biscuits, drink tea, and bake cakes.

JD: Biscuits are my favorite breakfast food. Top them with some gravy? Divine.

RB: I regret to inform you that biscuits over there are called cookies over here.

JD: Even better. Cookies are my demise. You know that meme with the clown holding the balloon and beckoning you into the gutter?

JD: If he said, “I have cookies,” I’d be halfway into the sewer before he finished his sentence.

RB: I love cookies too!

JD: There’s a television series dedicated to people making cookies?