by The Second City
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Apr 01, 2015
Seriously—where did they go???? HELP HIM! He’s a sweet guy; he just never met a fabric he liked.
This guy is so wasted that he has to constantly hold onto something—bar, wall, a friend—as though someone is slowly taking away his spinal cord and he’s fusing with the floor. Normally you wouldn’t touch this guy—except you are also this wasted.
I love these guys. Dressed impeccably, well-groomed and fresh, and absolutely so dumb. He is just so happy to be here–with you–in a restaurant with spaghetti and cake. He is delightfully confused about global warming, social justice and what exactly Benghazi was, but he looks like a Lawrence brother and by god, you going to take him home.
Seriously, ever other guy on Tinder is either holding a jaguar cub, sitting next to a Bengal tiger, or has his head in a Cheetah’s mouth. Where are they meeting these cats?And why am I supposed to be impressed that they paid money to touch baby cat slaves? I don’t know—but I jumped him anyway.
Italian? Spanish? Serbian? All you know is his implacable accent is adorable, his breath smells like peppermint, and he’s the only guy in the club with jeans that fit his ass. Get it, girl.
Oh my god, he was so cute. He was perfect: gentlemanly, had a job, owned a condo, reads a ton, called himself a feminist (or maybe you just willed that on him), and all his clothes fit correctly. You would date this guy in a heartbeat, exceptwhaaapfthhhhhhugggggh who was that????? Whatever, at least the margaritas were free.
Erin Lann, @erinlann, is a comedian in Chicago and regular contributor to The Second City Network.
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