You have had at least one tragic first date with a guy who either worked “in journalism” or “On The Hill,” and spent the entire dinner telling you about how great it was and humblebragging about the important people he has met.
Sometimes when you’re at a party, you make an excuse to leave early and go home. You just can’t fake it, you’d rather be at home with Netflix and chicken nuggets than at some lame party, drinking just to have fun.
“Also, question: Are we too old to be pregaming, because those drinks are 12 dollars each and momma has bills to pay.”
But now, guys can look themselves up, and actually see their stats, because we all have an enormous masochistic streak.
His Varys is absolutely awesome.
The perfect, crisp representation of financial success and emotional maturity.
It’s a mistake we all make, no matter how many times we should have learned our lessons.
We’ve all seen the glossed-over eyes of a guy who stops listening as soon as it stops being advantageous to him.
They live up by Montmartre, or in the 10th (although if they’re to one extreme or the other of the financial spectrum, they probably live in the Marais or the 19th).
Under your watch, the fridge is never not-stocked. Diet Coke and Starbucks Double Shots are your drug, and you are always a dealer in great supply.