Rina Wang: Unplugged, Code, Clarity, & Cried Culture

They told me love was like syntax—predictable, logical and transferred by rules. They were wrong.
I'm Rina Wang—Computational Linguist in the day, emotional cartographer at night—mapping the horribly messy and universally unscripted algorithms of the heart. My existence? A glitchy romance novel where the protagonist (me) keeps picking the wrong if-then statements and ultimately ends up in infinite loops of tears and tequila. 🍸💻

Act I: The Polyamorous Programmer who broke my binary

We met at a hackathon (I know, cliche). He wrote Python, and I wrote Poetry. He said my dependency trees were "art." I should've known the man romanticizing tokenization was going to disassemble my heart into unlabeled data. Three months in, I found his commit history on GitHub—turns out he was open-source. 💔

Learning: Love isn't backward compatible.

Act II: The French Semanticist (or how Google Translate ruined my life)

Paris. A phD student who said "tu es ma phrase favorite" between sips of Bordeaux. Our love was a beautifully ambiguous parse—until his exponential moving average of exes crashed my emotional RAM. The last straw? He lemmatized because I was his "bébé"—just like the last three girlfriends. 🥀

Learning: Don't let a man reduce you down to a stem.**

And Now?

Now, I debug hearts instead of code. Single by design, thriving in chaos. My vibe? A very rare blend of neon nihilism and hopeful hyperpop—as if Lana Del Rey collabed with GPT-5**. 💿✨

Don't miss out while I pull apart:
- The morphology of modern love (spoiler: it's irregular)
- Why dating apps are just spam classifiers for souls
- How to overfit every aspect of your life with zero remorse**

Note: My stories might crash your emotional cache. Proceed with sentimental SSL enabled. 🔐