Her sourdough starter had veto power

She asked if she could bring a friend to coffee. I'm usually a one-on-one date guy, but I said sure. She arrived with a jar of sourdough starter strapped into a little insulated bag. "This is Gregory. He helps me read people." Fine. People name things. My vacuum is Deborah. But she put Gregory in my chair because the sunlight was better there. I moved. She asked what I wanted from a relationship, then held the jar near my mouth so he could "get the full answer." A bubble appeared. "He's skeptical," she said. I asked how she knew it wasn't approval. Apparently approval was two bubbles, and I shouldn't argue with someone who had excellent instincts. She ordered a pastry, looked at Gregory, and canceled it because it might be upsetting for him to see bread. When I said I was heading out, she asked if I'd apologize to the jar for creating a tense environment. I told Gregory I hoped he found what he was looking for. She later texted that he hadn't risen since our date. Somehow I got blamed for emotionally unavailable flour.