When I hit puberty, I started secreting ultra-fragrant bear pheromones from my armpits. Now I get mauled by a bear, like, several times a day. Consequently, my dating life is a disaster.

When I get mauled on a date, the process usually goes something like this:

1) My pheromones make a nearby bear ridiculously horny.

2) When the bear enters the restaurant and inevitably discovers through experimentation that it is not anatomically possible to have sex with me, it begins to brutally maul me in a fit of merciless rage. This typically ruins the date.

Whenever I go on a date, I try wearing extra-strength deodorant, which does wonders masking the horrific stench of my pheromones to humans, but has zero effect on bears. Also, my hippocampus has been clawed up pretty bad to the point where I’m borderline lobotomized, so I always forget to put on the deodorant.

Sometimes if a date is going really poorly, I just go to the bathroom and do a bunch of jumping jacks until my pheromones waft through the restaurant. After I get mauled, girls usually pay for my dinner, or at least split the bill.

There have been times when, mid-dinner, a bear cub mistakes my pheromones for its mother’s scent. I usually try to defend myself in these cases because bear cubs are pretty small, but then I just end up beating up a cute little cub, which is never good optics from a social standpoint.

I can never experience a romantic walk in the park because I would have to move at a snail’s pace in order to avoid sweating. That’s why my favorite spot to take dates is the zoo, where we watch the bears go absolutely apeshit as they get all horned up for me and start banging on the bars.

But the biggest problem in my dating life is that I am very ugly, independent of the bear scars.