And by knock-off, I mean, everything about him is straight up Rafi, from the hair to the big awful glasses to the no sense of style. Before he started trying to be me, he was just a regular, boring homo with a low-cut caesar and a lot of polos from American Eagle.
So this guy (Robert) I was in love with for like, I dunno, five minutes, is all up his buttcrack on facebook, commenting on all his pictures, leaving shit on his wall every half-hour. And he’s not even cute as me. And he’s a complete idiot, but that’s beside the point. Every guy I have ever dated always dates somebody better-looking than myself after we break up, and that’s the way I expect it to happen because I have a tendency to Level Up when dating. Most of the guys I’ve been in relationships have been better (or way better) looking than me. I mean, they’re usually not as interesting, so it’s a tradeoff, but that’s just the way the world works. I’d date the doofy-looking smart guy if he’d give me the time of day, but if the cute dope wants to be my boo for a season, let’s be boos. Whatever.
So what is Robert doing with this corner store version of myself?! Dude. The original, the real thing, the smarter funner one is a quick subway ride away, but you’re falling all over yourself for my busted copycat? I mean, I have hated that guy since the day we met and he started jocking my style, but now he is diggin around in my Man Garbage and that is not cute.
Whatever. Robert’s hung like a housecat anyway. And the last time I checked, my copycat had more split ends than a bleach blonde 80s model in a Bon Jovi video.
I’m over it now.
This probably didn’t even make any sense, but I don’t feel like proofreading it. I’ll just hide it under a cut.