I Submitted My Name For A "Soulmate Sketch" As A Joke. Now I Can't Look My Coworker In The Eye.

Okay. I need to tell someone this story because I am genuinely losing my mind, and the girls in the group chat are absolutely no help because they will not stop laughing.

It started last month. It was a slow Friday afternoon and our group chat was on fire — you know those days where everyone's bored at work and the messages won't stop?

Someone dropped a link to a psychic artist's page. Apparently there's a woman who can sketch your soulmate's face from some kind of psychic reading. You submit your name and birthdate and a sketch comes back.

We all thought it was hilarious. Like, obviously. So we all did it — me, Britt, Tanya, and Meg. We each typed in our names, birthdates, and the kind of person we were hoping to find — half as a joke, half not. We were placing bets on whose sketch would look like their ex.

The sketch arrived the next morning.

I opened it still half-asleep, expecting a generic pretty-boy face. But the man in the drawing had this very specific look — square jaw, slightly crooked nose, short hair, and these deep-set eyes with thick eyebrows.

My stomach dropped.

Because I knew that face. I see that face every single Monday in our 9 AM standup. That face belongs to Dave. From HR.

Dave from HR, who always smells like cedar and fresh laundry. Dave from HR, who once fixed the printer for me and said, "I'd fix anything for you," and I thought about it for three days straight.

I screenshot the sketch and sent it to the group chat with zero context. Britt replied in four seconds: "ISN'T THAT DAVE??" Tanya sent seventeen laughing emojis. Meg said, "Girl, the universe is literally filing an HR complaint on your behalf."

Then Monday's standup.

I tried to play it cool at work the following Monday. I really did. But every time Dave walked past my desk, I could feel my face going red.

He asked me if I was okay on Tuesday. I said I was "fighting a cold." I was fighting for my life.

Then — and I genuinely cannot make this up — last Thursday, Dave walked over to my desk at the end of the day and asked if I wanted to grab drinks sometime. Casual. Easy. Like he'd been thinking about it for a while. I said yes before my brain caught up to my mouth.

We went out Friday. He's even better up close. He's funny. He's kind. He asked me actual questions and remembered the answers. And the whole time, all I could think was: a psychic artist on the internet told me this was going to happen.

I still don't know what to make of it all. But if you want to see for yourself, this is the artist's page. Her name is Tina Aldea. Don't blame me for what happens after.

The girls are already obsessed. Britt's sketch looked like her yoga instructor and she's been "accidentally" going to extra classes. Tanya won't show anyone hers, which means it's someone we know. This whole thing feels like a crazy workplace rom-com and I'm living in it.