My fucking douche bag former Stanford classmate walks up to me “hey Jimmy, did you see the big round we just raised?” yeah man I did, congrats I guess. Glad you can stay positive even in a down round. “By the way, I saw a picture of you at Lazy Bear.” My heart stops and my throat tightens. I can’t feel my hands. Oh…fuck. You saw a picture of me…where? “At Lazy Bear. My friend took it.” No. No no no. My life is fucking over. Oh Jesus the cold sweats are starting, how did this happen? I think I’m gonna pass out, I need to get out of here—“hey dude are you ok? You don’t look good.” Wait uhhh just let me see the picture right now. “Jeez ok, uhhh this one, you at the restaurant with the Hinge date. She’s cute by the way man, nice.” It feels like a thousands pounds just got lifted off my chest, thank God that’s what he was talking about. Ohhh yeah right right right I remember that yeah cool. Nice place. Two Michelin stars. Hard to get a res there. “Yeah haha, not sure why you were so confused. Is there a different Lazy Bear you were at or something?”