Please Put My Girlfriend On A Reality Show

Please Put My Girlfriend On A Reality Show

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I don’t ask for much in this life. I’m a modest man who lives a low-key, humble lifestyle. Up until this point, I’ve done everything right. I was in the National Honor Society in high school and captained my golf and tennis teams. I went to an esteemed state school and became the social chair of my fraternity, all while remaining on the Dean’s List semester after semester. My internships, while grueling, allowed me to get a middle-management job at a decent company. My career trajectory seems to be trending upwards.

But what I ask is this: please, please, please cast my girlfriend and her friends to be on a reality show.

These girls are absurd. They were all in the same sorority and now live in a townhouse together in Midtown. Every time I go over to their place, it’s like they never left college. They still have all of their same inside jokes. Half of the girls still hook up with the same guys they did back in school. Hell, they even still wear oversized sorority shirts over their Nike running shorts every single time they go to the gym.

Every Sunday, they have a family dinner where they recap their weekends. Being that my girlfriend and I go out less than the others, I sit there with my mouth open wondering how they can still act the way they do. It’s like they never graduated. Every weekend, they drink in their Ubers like they’re on a bus to a formal. They dress like they’re going to a “Boats And Hoes” themed date party. Last week I walked into their living room and I saw one of them pouring a bottle of blue Boone’s Farm into a Gatorade bottle for her trip to Whole Foods.

I’m too afraid to ask how they maintain this lifestyle with their jobs in fashion marketing and sales even though I assume their parents float them some amount of cash every month that makes my salary look like a meal stipend for an out-of-town conference. Jealous? Yeah, but I’m pretty content with the life I’ve forged for myself.

So through all this ridiculousness, you’re probably asking yourself why I’d want to subject these train wrecks to the rest of the nation. Well, it’s simple: I want to be the next Scott Disick.

Like I said, my life is on the straight and narrow. But I’m just fucking tired of it. I’m tired of working 55 hours a week in order to make ends meet. I’m tired of taking the subway rather than Uber XL Selects when traveling solo. I want to leave my receipts in ATM machines for the poor saps behind me to pick up only to hear them say, “Holy shit!” as I walk away.

Is this asking that much? I don’t think it is. I’ll start working out more. I’ll wear more white v-necks. I’ll use hair gel. I’ll buy Italian loafers. I’ll do whatever it takes as long as you put me in the best possible position to do so. I’m not asking for much other than a pay raise, a few trips to Vegas on a PJ, and a reason to act like the piece of scum I’ve always avoided being.

Please, for the love of God, just cast my girlfriend on a reality show.

If the sisterhood bond you have from college still means the world to you, you could be perfect for a new television series focusing on your relationship and living situation with your sisters. All you need is to have a minimum of four residents or live in a Melrose Place-style apartment complex.

Interested in your group of sorority sisters being the subject of a reality show? Send your info to All we need is your name, location, contact info (phone and email), age, a recent photo, and a short paragraph about why you and your friends are a cut above the rest.

Image via Shutterstock

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