Before everyone grabs their pitchforks and comes to Chill deBreeze’s side, let me set the record straight: The Protagonist still likes Will. I would break up with her if she told me that she stopped liking him, his writing, or his social media game. Because let’s be real: you would have to psycho to not like TGDAG or Insufferable Marriage Announcements or his all-too-common #HumbleBrags (while she is definitely psycho, she’s not this sort of psycho). Bottom line: she still appreciates his work, but has lost that “blushing and getting clammy hands” feeling whenever she reads his posts or listens to his slightly effeminate voice on the PGP podcast. (Does anyone else think he sounds a tad like Rob Fox?)
So how did this happen? I think that I would be pretty accurate when I say that we all thought that she would leave me for him. She liked his writing, she liked his dad-bod (or his “dad legs” as Dorn so eloquently put it), and most importantly, he just has that “it” factor. He’s got that “I know I love vacations and girly-ish drinks and that I probably shouldn’t be standing here with a completely unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, but I don’t give a fuck” sort of vibe. Nothing beats a man on the high side of 30 with that sort of unfounded unwavering confidence in himself. It takes a special type of person to stand next to Dillon and take a picture like this.
That’s a bold move, Will, but I think we all respect it. From the amount of TFM transplants that occupy this site, I think we all appreciate a little relentless optimism in our talents. Hell, every time I shoot a three in pickup, I’m convinced that it’s going in despite my atrocious high school basketball career. But this confidence can only go on for so long. It only takes three or four missed threes over the course of a couple hours of pickup before they stop feeding me the rock when I’m standing in the corner waiting for my perfect time to reenact circa-2005 JJ Redick. I may still be convinced that all my shots are going in, but Iron Mike, Coach, Texas Mel and Chicken-legs Kyle certainly aren’t going to think that anymore.
Will, don’t get me wrong. We love your work. We discuss how Caroline is the ideal match for Todd in TGDAG; we talk about how jealous we are that Jordan got close enough to you where he could actually give you the cold shoulder; we laughed together at your
atrocious amazing interview skills with the Chainsmokers (also, Rachel, shoot me a GChat; Will’s got my email). But I think she’s finally seen through the smokescreen. You once said that “I probably eat too much, I probably drink too much, and I probably should be further along in my life than I am at age 29.” I think she may be apt to agree with you.
Now I can’t stand up here on my high horse saying these things without being honest about myself too. I’ll match your brutally honest opinion about yourself. I drink too much cheap red wine, I ignore The Protagonist too much during
Touchdown Tommy’s worship services Patriots games, and I have a little pouch over my stomach that I don’t think I’m ever gonna lose. So Will, I guess what I’m trying to say is that neither of us are good enough for her. And it pains me to say this, but I think I know who she now favors, and it’s something that surprised me.
This person is nearly twice her age. This person can’t putt for shit. This person can’t write a sentence to save his life. This person has a terrible social media game. This person lies about his ability to dunk. This person does not like fajitas. This person does not know the difference between “to” and “too.” This person uses Apple Music. This person is Dillon Cheverere.
I know, I know. I wrote an article about how she doesn’t have a crush on him. But times have changed. She’s listened to his voice on the PGP Podcast. She’s seen him without a shirt on a cruise. She knows he loves Jordan Spieth as much as the next guy. And let’s all be real: he’s got a great head of hair, he doesn’t get hangovers, he doesn’t practically die after walking around at a golf tournament for a couple days (cough, Will, cough), and he was one of the original people with TFM.
It was a shock to me too, Will. It’s a tough pill to swallow. I’m over here, getting her J. Crew shorts and monogrammed flasks for her birthday while pouring her glass after glass of red wine, doing everything I can to keep her from going to the dark side, and Dillon is just standing over there with his cocky AF grin and his cush job and she falls for him. Will, you and I put out piping hot content while Dillon puts out lukewarm shit, and yet she still goes for him. It’s done; we’ll just pack up and go home.
Dillon, if you’re reading this (I know you are; you read everything that talks about you), I have some things to tell you. One, congrats. It was a good fight. I put up all the resistance that I could, but enough is enough. I’ve lost, and I’m waving my white flag. Two, don’t you ever, ever take anything away from Will again. He’s got more talents and is more devoted to content than you can even dream to. And three, watch out: The Protagonist moves on to new dudes quicker than Johnny Football can ruin an entire career. But good luck with her: you’ll need it. .
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