I went to the gyno to get weird spotting checked out, and guess who’s behind the desk scanning my insurance? My massive gym crush. To make it totally unhinged, he handed back my file with a sticky note asking for my number, completely oblivious to why I’m actually in the waiting room wanting the floor to swallow me.

Breathe out: reproductive organs have terrible comedic timing, but you have zero reasons to feel guilty. Your uterus doing weird mid-cycle things is basic biology, not a character flaw. Here is the reality check: receptionists process hundreds of files a day, but while you were dreading the exam room, all he saw was the girl from the gym walking in. He wasn't cross-referencing your symptoms or judging your hormones; he was busy working up the nerve to write that sticky note without his hands shaking. You don’t owe a crush your entire medical chart before a first coffee. Take care of your health first—get the spotting sorted with your doctor—and then shoot him a text. Keep it light: "Bold move with the sticky note. I'd love to grab a drink, as long as we pretend you never saw my insurance card." Let the gyno handle the spotting, and let the cute desk guy buy you a drink.