On a second date, restaurant staff came out carrying a cake and singing. I thought my date had secretly mentioned a birthday, so I stood up, clapped, and joined in at full volume. I even added their name to the song. The cake passed our table and stopped behind me. It belonged to a child I had never seen. The staff were singing a completely different name. I remained standing because sitting down felt like admitting the mistake, so I kept clapping for the stranger until the song ended. The child's family thanked me with the cautious politeness normally used for confused tourists. My date waited until I sat down, then explained that their birthday was five months away. A server brought us two forks and a tiny piece of leftover cake because, according to them, I had shown unusual commitment to the celebration. My date still refers to it as the birthday I invented.