See Their Relationship on Facebook
Like – Comment – Kill Yourself Because You’re Going to Die Cold and Alone”
He tapped his thumb against the glass screen protector of his iPhone 6 and gently swiped up to scroll down through his Facebook newsfeed. It was Sunday morning, and he was battling yet another hangover. His body just doesn’t heal like it used to. From the days of chugging eight cups of “Hunch Punch” (two 750 milliliters of 190 proof Diesel mixed with enough Crystal Lite packets to give a small animal diabetes) at the pregame alone, to the days of sipping four Michelob Ultras at his friend’s house and calling it a night, his body had betrayed him.
He didn’t know how many more times he could progress through his newsfeed before finally climbing out of bed and beginning his day, but he was determined to reread as many posts as possible. On his third go-around, he stumbled upon a post he hadn’t yet read: “Zack Sharper Got Engaged to Lauren Williams.” He and Zack hadn’t seen each other since college, but they were good friends while they were in school, so he decided to “Like” the engagement. But then, a few stories later, the most peculiar thing happened: He noticed another friend had gotten engaged. This time it was an ex-girlfriend he met in the dorms and dated as a freshman. A couple more minutes of scrolling passed by. Then, again, it happened: A pair of friends he knew from high school had gotten engaged. “What the hell is going on?”
He rolled over in his bed, instantly and acutely aware of the fact that another body was not lying next to him. “What’s the point of being single if you’ve only had sex with three new girls this calendar year?” He wondered, looking off into the distance of his phone screen. “My husky’s gotten more action with my bed post than I’ve gotten on my bed.” He remembered how easy it was to get it in college – the constant availability and never-ceasing opportunity – just put them on the list of luxuries he took for granted in undergrad. Hell, he’d never even thought as far as the future. His longest relationship was merely a year, and most of his short-term relationships arose from extended periods of hooking up.
He decided that it was time to finally climb out of bed and begin his day.
Dreading the Monday morning that was now only 21 hours away, he went about his Sunday routine: curse the gods that Chick-Fil-A is closed, settle for Zaxby’s, and set his fantasy football lineup. He finished his chores for the day by 1 p.m. and was now presented with the proposition of what to do with the remaining hours of freedom he had left.
“I know, I’ll text Casey. He’ll surely be up for Sunday Funday.”
“Hey Casey. Are you up for Sunday Funday? Maybe hit up the Soho strip?”
“No-go, man. Chilling with the girlfriend today. We’re trying to get through the latest season of Big Bang Theory.”
He was taken back a little bit. First off, who would watch such a terrible show as Big Bang Theory? Second, Casey was always down to get drinks, what could’ve changed? Then he remembered that the girl Casey’s “talking to” recently became the girl that Casey’s dating. Not panicked, he mulled through the list of college friends who relocated to the same town as him, friends he’s met while living in said town, and coworkers. Through careful deliberation, he settled upon Sarah. Sarah was one of the “bro” girls, someone who was good looking but also someone who was chill. In other words, she was someone he could have fun with on any given Sunday.
So he texted her, “Hiii Sarah. It’s been a hot minute. Want to get drinks?”
To which Sarah replied, “Hey! How have you been? Unfortunately I can’t get drinks today. I’m going on my third date with this guy I really like. Maybe another time. Wish me luck.”
For a second time, he was taken back, but not one to fret, he would not be deterred: he would find a drinking buddy for the day.
“Wait, how could I forget?! Zack is for sure in,” he proclaimed to himself. Then, with the same impactful clarity that came to him when he first had this thought, he remembered he had just seen that Zack had gotten engaged to Lauren the day before. Another attempt thwarted, this time before it had the chance to be denied.
He then logged into his laptop and opened a PDF of his company’s employee listing. He figured he would see the name of a coworker his age who would enjoy a pleasant afternoon of adult beverages.
“Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. 24 and married. Engaged. Girlfriend. Engaged. My boss. Married.”
He looked dejectedly at the PDF – nothing more than a list of employees with successful, serious relationships. He began to wonder what dating site would work best for him, www.crossfitglutenfreevegansmeet.com or www.singleswhoareridiculouslyaverageateverything.com, when he received a text that would rescue him from his doom. One of his older brother’s friends, Ethan, texted him seeing if he wanted to grab some drinks. He knew that Ethan makes a sizeable salary working in private equity and that Ethan’s also in his late 30s, with no wife or kids. Since he needed a partner for his Sunday debauchery, he eagerly agreed to Ethan’s proposal.
The two met at Bar Louie around 3 in the afternoon. To start the outing, Ethan ordered two fireball shots each for the two of them, and without hesitation gifted the bartender with a tip equal to the price of the shots. He began to think himself, “Man, look at how successful Ethan is, and he’s not married. Perhaps that’s the key to being truly successful: don’t let women get in your way. Plus, with that kind of money, he probably gets laid all the time,” he concluded his thought.
Three hours wore on, and after orders of wings, fries, and chicken fingers, numerous shots, and uncountable pitchers, the two found themselves in a sluggish state of mind. Around this time, Ethan began to aggressively and very, very poorly hit on the dark-haired, provocatively-tatted bartender.
“Hey baby. Do you want a real tip? A real… big… tip? Do you catch my drift? I’m talking about my money.”
It was at this point he took a long and hard look at Ethan, and realized that even with his financial success, he was kind of an asshole. “Do I really want to be like this asshole, single in his late-30s, hitting on a chain-restaurant bartender who likely has one or two kids?”
He then took a good look at himself, and decided it was time to head home and create a profile on Match.com. He needed to get serious about dating, before he gets left in the dust, left to hit on single mothers, hammered, at 38 years old, at 6:45 p.m. on a Sunday. .
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