Sarah is struggling to remember where she went wrong. Last night at the party, she thought things were progressing relatively smoothly with Mark. How did things get so screwed up?

She told Mark, "I love the simple life where choices are effortless."

Mark said, "No simple life is without complicated choses. Where to live, where to go to school, what to read, what to plant in the garden, even, who to buy the seeds from for the garden. The choosing never stops."

"I think living the simple life means keeping an open mind when making choices. And there is no one who's more open minded than me."

"Biases are funny things. Some use circular logic. Thinking you have an open mind and no biases is itself a bias. If you thinking you are more open minded than others you are likely not."

"But really, I'm less biased than any of my friends."

Mark said, "You've fallen for the Blind Spot Bias where the mind is fooling itself, then proudly congratulating itself on its cleverness."

"No I haven't. No I'm not. What the hell is Blind Spot Bias?"

The conversation devolved from there. I raised my voice in denial, losing control of my arms. Flaying like Charlie Chaplin directing traffic in Times Square, and slapped Mark's right cheek putting his fancy Cabernet in a slow-motion flight across the room, spilling its contents like an airplane fire retardant drop. The wine quenching any fire that might have been smoldering Tom and Mimi's carpet.

Sitting on her bed, Sarah sees a text she'd not noticed.

"Coffee?" -- it was from Mark and only an hour ago.

Thumb typing like an 11-year-old after stealing a few swigs of her father's beer, "yws" then rethinking that, pounding the backspace button with her right thumb, then tried "maybr." No, that wouldn't do, "sooory, i didn't mean to hit you" No, that wouldn't do either. So she let her thumbs blurted out, "Love to have coffee." SEND Laying the phone on the bed, slumping into the chair with her hands cupping her eyes, thinking she was making a big mistake. She waited for what would happen next.

Chime! -- Oh NO! Sending her phone into flight like Mark's wine with the same wild animated juggling motions that had gotten her into this mess.

I look down and see, "How about now?" My heart sinks into my stomach.