If I didn’t find true love by the thirteenth year after the first transfiguration, I was doomed to be that animal forever. If it wasn’t for that itty bitty fact, I wouldn’t bother with this mess of dating. Or feel desperate enough to use cursed dating apps. Sure, they made it easier for antisocial people like me, but hell, there was little to no vetting process. Any sort of self-centered jerk could smile pretty for his selfie and make a half-decent profile.
