In a caffeine (and despair)-fueled fugue state somewhere between studying anatomy and doom scrolling my X feed, I wrote a rambling post on Reddit. It was a 1000-word treatise arguing how it may suck to be a doctor financially. For reasons that defy both logic and good taste, it went viral (ok it wasn't bad, its quite analytical yo).

After marinating for 2 h4 hours in the glow of this fleeting, anonymous validation, my brain, dangerously inflated with hubris, decided the only logical next step was to go on a date. It is indeed a rare occasion that I escape the purgatory of the library and convince a member of the opposite sex to be seen with me in public. It begins with constant brain signals that say, "Don't screw it up!” This is a principle I tend to violate with the same frequency that I misplace my stethoscope.

My medical school isn't too far from the undergraduate campus. One of my friends has been trying to set me up with this girl for like 3 months. Well, Sunday is the day, I decided. The date was going well. Shockingly well. Her name was Sophia (the “ph” kind), and she was an art history major. She laughed at my jokes, which is usually a sign that she either has a spectacular sense of humor or a poor understanding of English (I don't know; she's an international student, so... yeah).

And then I saw it. THE machine.

You are never winning this! — *The death star…*

A tiny, adorable Labubu doll, suspended by a single thread. The goal? Feed the machine a coin, and time the release of a small cutter to snip the thread. Time to perform the vasectomy and win the girl.

"I can win you that," I said, with a surge of (fake) confidence.

Sophia smiled politely. "Oh, you zon't have to."

"No, I insist," I said, already feeding the machine its first token. "It's all about understanding the physics. Also, I'm Masters level in Overwatch 2, I got this."

The first token went in. Snip. Snip. The cutter sliced through air, missing the thread by a mile. Oh, it’s on Labubu...(5 sec later)...Nada. By the 20th token, Sophia was concerned. "Are you sure? thiz looks really hard."

"Hard?" psssh.

Fifteen dollars. Twenty. Each failed attempt was a fresh psychic wound. The more stubbornly that thread refused to break, the more my composure did. My dignity is almost gone. At thirty dollars, and a small crowd of children gathering to witness the grown ass man fail at the toy game, I admitted defeat. I had nothing to show for my efforts but a sense of shame and lint in my pockets.

Soon after, we ended up at a Ramen joint. I ordered the tonkotsu with extra beef, mostly because I felt I deserved a protein-rich consolation prize.

Except that shit was like $40 a bowl (wtf!!)

Ramen that costs $40+ — *Liquid gold on that egg apparently.*

"What are you thinking about?" Titania asked, gracefully slurping her noodles. I looked up from my bowl and blurted "Oh, you know. Anatomy Anki deck…" (real smooth there WCL). She blinked. "Right."

The rest of the date was a slow, inevitable walk toward the friend zone. I tried to salvage it, but the ghost of that little vinyl doll haunted me. The whole evening? a thorough lesson in humility.

Back in my room, surrounded by unused books (who tf reads those), my laptop still running some Due Anki cards (fml), and rando scribbled notes, I realized something: For the price of that failed date, I could have bought a used copy of Costanzo's Physiology (yes I need more work), at least that book would love me back. Or, at the very least, it would be predictably, reliably difficult. Just like medical school. And, apparently, my love life.

Heart Failure.

To be a Doctor. Is it worth it? A Financial Analysis