38 Are you my weirdo?

So you know the kids’ book *Are You My Mother?*

For those not familiar, a mom bird leaves to find some food and the (not too bright, let’s face it) baby bird hatches, can’t find her, and decides to hop out of his comfy nest and go on a quixotic little quest to locate his mom. He asks just about every living and non-living thing he encounters if they’re his mother.

It’s me, I’m the dumbass baby bird, you’re the mom bird (just bear with me here), and this is me yeeting myself out of the comfort of my perfectly good nest to try to find you and probably getting myself eaten alive in the process.

You, mom bird, are:
* A man
* Not a real bird
* Bizarrely funOntario, kind as hell, open, mature, communicative, an excellent writer, a good all-around human, able to laugh at yourself and me and the ridiculousness of life.

You are not:
* A dog, a cow, a Snort, or an East Coast finance bro (sorry, you guys are boring AF)
* A pushy creep (this won’t stop the pushy creeps but I have to try)
* Going to reach me via the chat function; DMs for life

I didn’t think I’d ever be here on OA again, but it turns out I really like that sweet sweet dopamine and getting my stupid little heart broken. So put on your cute little polka dot kerchief and come find me already.