Why I Don’t Work Out, Eat Right, Study Enough, Or Shower Every Day

Robert Langellier

 

It won’t matter. No matter what I do, I will never experience the kind of love that my friend has found.

My friend’s name is Garrett, he wrote for Guest Week last week, and he’s an asshole. Don’t let the pure-spirited friendliness, warm smile or genuine intentions fool you; his girlfriend’s name is Molly, they have been in love for five months and 29 days, and they are both giant tools.

Excerpts from Facebook:

"Dear Garrett,
You are asleep right now and i'm about to go to bed but i just wanted you to know that meeting you was by far the best thing that has ever happened to me. The first time i ever saw you I prayed that one day i would be able to meet you at least once. And now i cannot imagine my life without you. I love you with all of my heart and i cannot wait for the airport. Once i have you back in my arms there is no way i will ever let you go. I hope you are sleeping well and that you feel better in the morning. Or at least i hope this message makes you feel a little better. Kiss kiss my love
Molly"

"Dear Molly,
I got over 11 hours of sleep and am feeling much better today. Our talk yesterday gave me a lot of time to think and now that I've slowly convinced myself that I can't be superman, it's going to be much easier to not sit here and stress myself over the edge. Ever since I saw you sophomore year I wanted to just be able to say hi to you, and now that I've finally gotten the chance I didn't want to mess that up, but I know now that I can't, so I can stop working myself to death and just concentrate on coming home to you in one piece. I love you more than anything and am counting down the days until I'm back at that airport. 45 days, 8 hours. And I have good news for you later today :)

 

I hate this. I do. It’s disgusting. They’re so emotionally slutty with each other. The only thing worse than this is the undeniable fact that it’s cute as shit. Most people would have judged the daylights out of this couple from the few Facebook quotes up there (yes, they talk like that in person, too). I would judge it too, if I weren’t witness to its extremely public splendor. See, this is not “one of those couples.” You know what I’m talking about.

“Those couples.” The ones that include that girl who falls in love with everything with a sizeable dick and a dollar bill or that guy who’s so in love with falling in love that he thinks he’s fallen in love with every girl that struts by him. “Those couples.”

Molly + Garrett — Gally? Marret? Margaret? — are actually in love. I know this because deep down I’m not grossed out by their Facebook sex. I love seeing it. I Like it at every opportunity to click my approval on it. They talk openly about their unbelievably premature marriage plans. They generally prefer the company of their faces on a computer screen to the company of real humans. I am often completely ignored when I enter his room during a Skype session (we’re real friends though – I double checked). He has a custom mug sitting on his countertop with her face on it. You know. Real love.

My problem is not that I don’t like seeing it happen. My problem is that it makes me look bad. Like what the fuck, guys, stop. You’re 18. I’m 19. Readers, you’re probably under 20. I don’t talk about getting married. What the hell even is that? Marriage is for people who are my dad and my mom. I still treat girls like I’m in kindergarten. I throw rocks and things at them to show my affection. Look at Hannah. She’s my girlfriend that I abuse. What if she met Garrett? Girls like to be treated right, and he actually provides that. What an asshole.

Another problem is that Hannah has met Garrett. We Skype double-date sometimes, me and Hannah and Garrett and Molly. Cute in theory, but really it’s only cute from the right side of the room, because their puppy talk makes me and Hannah’s affectionate ridiculing of each other look kind of platonic. I don’t want a platonic girlfriend. I just want to yell at her for insignificant things without looking like a dick all the time.

Let’s be honest. We can all pretend that we’re happy that this kind of destined love exists somewhere, and that maybe it too is in our own futures. That, like Conor Oberst said, “I love their love and I am thankful / that someone actually receives the prize that was promised / by all those fairy tales that drugged us.” Fuck that. Drake’s more popular. I’m doing me, and Garrett’s ruining my chances with his womanly romance. My god, he’s so chaste. In 2010. So is Molly. I had to look up “chaste” online to double-check what that word even means. Damn it.

So how can we ever compete?

My battle plan is extraordinarily complex. I am not giving up, never. Instead, I intend to utilize mediums such as Classic Brian to advertise Garrett Richie of Room 710, Mark Twain Hall in Columbia, Missouri to the widest female audience I can, hopefully then inciting a widespread swooning of girls around him, instigating a terrifying breakup, and therefore ironically proving, by attracting all females to Garrett, that even the most dedicated love is futile, thereby bringing him down to our level. If I cannot be the best, I will destroy the best. Good luck to you, Garrett. #