What Do You Mean You Like Him?

What Do You Mean You Like Him?

Seriously? Is this moderately not-ugly, generically dressed, fairly dry guy gonna change your life? Probably not, but you’re thinking about taking him home to meet your friends and maybe meet his parents.

He’s the peas to your mashed potatoes, hitchhiking on the forkful of your life, a pretty green to add to a perfectly smooth and buttery carb. But let’s be honest. What’s he really doing for you? Peas are gross and maybe they “complete” a meal, but they’re nothing. They just make things grainy.

He probably wears a beanie, still wears Vans, and listens to like Pink Floyd or Creedence Clearwater Revival and thinks he’s the shit. Or he only wears an ugly sweater with shorts year-round and thinks his D3 sport is a personality trait. Or he came from a major city and thinks he’s automatically better because he literally lives in the gentrified area of said city. There’s no in-between and they’re all trying to skateboard right now. Gross.

He has some redeeming qualities. Maybe he’s hitting up other girls but always ends up hooking up with you at five in the morning. Maybe he only ever leaves you on delivered for five hours and then doesn’t send ceiling pictures. Maybe he sent you a good morning text and asked you if you ate that day once, and now you think he’s gonna ask to cuff you. No. He never will. 

He probably doesn’t read. Isn’t that embarrassing? Like you obviously read if you’ve made it this far, but this man has probably never touched a page unless it was required reading. What are you gonna talk to him about? Football? Lacrosse? Another sport about strong men giving other strong men concussions? Are you gonna feign interest to impress A GUY? I have. It’s total garbage. 

What are you guys going to do? Watch NBA giants soar through the air like birds in your sweats together? Even if you get that far.

What’s his middle name? You like him and don’t even know his middle name? C’mon, you’re better than this. It’s not like you don’t want to know, you’re just afraid that if you ask he’ll get scared off and ghost you. Do you even have his number? Oof.

So the next time you dream about pulling up to his house in the Northeast during Christmas in a plaid red and green sweater, remember this: You only like the idea of him. In reality, he probably just sits in basketball shorts and plays Grand Theft Auto, hits up his boys, and then goes to sleep. Is that what you want? No. His skin is horrible and he’s going to make your skin horrible. 

You’re gonna end up super splotchy inventing scenarios where he’s just gonna be the greatest, then cry when he inevitably fails. Your friends from back home are annoyed at you for talking about him because they’re fucking guys like him too. There are no winners. Who’s worth that? You don’t like him. Stop. Unless he’s like a genuinely nice guy, then yeah, go for it.

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