Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Take Bar Trivia Too Seriously

Bar trivia is an awesome idea. What better way to spend an evening than drinking beer and answering ridiculous questions about obscure topics no one should really know about? Personally, nothing makes me feel more manly than proving I know that the fifth stage of the modern pentathlon is pistol shooting.

There is one key problem with bar trivia, however. Just like the guy on every slow pitch softball team that spends $800 on a bat and keeps track of slugging percentage, there is always one person who takes bar trivia too seriously.

That person is me.

It’s not like I mean to get so overly involved. I’d love to sit back and act like I don’t care that our team thinks Lionel Richie wrote “Maneater” when I know that Hall and Oates are responsible for that musical gem.

But inevitably I find myself dissecting every question and taking it hard when my CLEARLY superior knowledge of mid-'80s basketball trivia is called into question. Perhaps the competitive family "Jeopardy!" nights created some bad habits I never quite overcame?

My issues aren’t limited to what happens on my team, either. I’ve been known to take a casual trip to the “bathroom” just to make sure no one is cheating on their smartphones. Not to mention the rage that builds up in my system when someone gets a tiebreaker question correct that no one would know without cheating. Chances are if someone is able to say exactly how many centimeters tall Mount Washington is, they are probably consulting their pocket version of Wikipedia.

I’ll have to work on my bar trivia approach and crank the intensity down a notch or three. It might take time. Until then, my tendency to ruin bar trivia may make me a bad boyfriend.

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Reader Submitted Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Ain't Gonna Toss Her Gifts Out

From Zack, who, let's face it, isn't gonna toss these things out.

It starts out innocently. She'll browse through my bookshelves, and wedged between some obscure book on Plains Indian mythology and a copy of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, she'll spot a worn copy of War and Peace. And because the man in the clouds hates me, she'll pick it up and see the inscription: something long, sappy, and ending with te amabo semper. Incidentally, giving your boyfriend a copy of War and Peace with a sappy Latin inscription is hereby declared the official metric standard of dorkiness. [Ed. note--That phrase translates to "I will always love you." Was she a Whitney Houston fan, perchance?]

Or she'll look for a Q-tip in my bathroom and find half a dozen unused bottles of cologne that make the drawer smell like a forest on a beach during a rainstorm. Yeah, they were all given to me by my exes, and I never got around to throwing them out. (I hate wearing cologne).

Or that painting that she likes that hangs in my living room. She doesn't know it, but one of my exes painted that. If you could see the back, you'd find a little dedication.

Look, my house is chock full of these little Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, and I'm not about to throw them out. They are exes for a reason, after all. I liked War and Peace, and I love that painting, and I honestly don't see why I should get rid of them just because I've seen the naughty bits of the people who gave them to me.

So let's skip the arguing, the debating, and the sulking. We both know how this ends: I'll be too stubborn to throw them out (though I will concede and let you toss the colognes), and you'll add them to the list of things in my house you plan to sneakily get rid of.

I can respect this because it's your house and you can decorate it any way you like. But if we move in together, this shit is hittin' the curb first.

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Make Ridiculous Promises About Things I Have No Control Over

"You're not going to get stung by a jellyfish. I promise. I'll protect you."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew they were a complete lie. It was just a hunch based on mathematical probability: The ocean is a huge place and there are literally thousands of people up and down the beach. The odds of one of us ACTUALLY getting stung were virtually slim to none.

So, you can imagine how shitty I felt ten minutes later when we're sitting back on the beach and she's staring daggers at me while the bright red rash from the jellyfish sting grew increasingly bigger. Damn you, jellyfish.

Why the hell did I make that promise?

I make outrageous promises all the time; I barely even notice myself doing it. When I was on the phone with a girlfriend late at night and she heard a sound in her apartment that made her nervous, I immediately countered with, "Don't worry. It's nothing, I promise."  What if there was some crazy axe-wielding maniac in her kitchen? Why did I just promise her that she would be fine?

Some more greatest hits from my false-promise past include, "It's not that spicy," "We won't run into my ex at this party," and many more. Believe me, there's quite a few.

On the plus side, at least my promise-breaking scenarios are mostly ridiculous. There's a lot of guys out there for whom breaking promises about serious stuff is second nature. Those guys, unfortunately, are the true bad boyfriends and should be avoided at all costs. Boyfriends like me should be, well, tolerated begrudgingly.While I can promise to be a good dude and treat you like the classy lady that you are, I might also promise that it definitely won't rain this weekend if we go camping. And when it inevitably starts drizzling, you can add it to the long list of things that make me a bad boyfriend.

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Will Not Offer You Some Of This Delicious Snack

Lay off me, I'm STAAAARVING!

OH MY GOD, THESE CASHEWS WERE THE BEST GAS STATION PURCHASE EVER.

Normally, I'm like, "Damn, should I get cashews? Nah, not this time. They're too pricey." Seriously, it's like $2+ for a relatively small bag of cashews. Nuts are expensive. Usually, the highest level of snack I'll purchase is the large bag of Combos.

So to celebrate treating myself to this serious roadtrip snack splurge, I quickly wolf down the entire bag.

In front of you.

Ahhh...shit.

I'm sorry, but if we ever dated, I'd probably forget to share my delicious snack with you. Sadly, I wish this applied to just cashews, but that's not the case. You can add movie popcorn and the side of fries at dinner to this list as well. It's not that I don't WANT to share, it's that I forget. I slip into the "food zone" and start snacking away. Next thing I know, there's an empty bag that formerly held cashews in front of me and you in the passenger seat with that look on your face.

I feel like I'm not alone on this; I think it's a dude thing. I've never sat down with one of my guy friends at lunch and offered him some of my fries or said, "Hey, you gotta try a bite of this sandwich." It's just not what we do. My female friends and co-workers don't even blink at splitting lunch or sharing a snack. Rather than shoulder the blame for this, I'll go ahead and burden the entire male gender instead.

So, while I can promise you that I will try to remember to share, your best bet is to get your own bag of cashews. And that makes me a bad boyfriend.

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Reader Submitted Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Will Openly Flirt With The Cute Girl At The Record Store In Front Of You

From our reader Rich, who is really being a bad boyfriend here:

It's Saturday morning and we're laying in bed watching Say Anything or maybe re-watching the second season of the U.S. version of the Office because that season is frickin' awesome. Around noon we decide to grab brunch at that little breakfast place a few blocks away that you like so much. Afterward, we decide to go to the record store and look around a bit and that is where I ruin the entire day.

I bring my stack of records up to the counter and exchange pleasantries with the girl working the register. As she's ringing me up, she makes a comment about the Cherry Valance album I picked up for 3 bucks. In turn, I compliment her for choosing to play The Gun Club's "Fire of Love" in the store.

From there we somehow get to talking about how each of us were at the MC5 show that Evan Dando played with them a few years back and how we both think "New Wind" by 7 Seconds is a highly underrated album. I'm laughing and agreeing with pretty much everything she says, and even as she keeps glancing over at you silently standing next to me, I make no effort to leave. I'm throwing some of my best game at her and even though you're right there, she's going with it.

This goes on for probably longer than a transaction for four records should take, but I'm enjoying talking to a cute girl that has the same musical taste that I do (no offense to you, but I can only listen to The Beastie Boys and White Stripes so many times before I go crazy). We finally leave but not before I mention to her that I deejay Monday nights at the dive bar down the street and that she should bring some records down sometime, maybe do a guest spot.

Of course we get in an argument on the way home and eventually I apologize for being a dick. Everything is cool again--until we go to the bar that night and I openly flirt with the girl working the door.

Holy shit, you ARE a bad boyfriend. Are you wearing a "What Would John Mayer Do?" bracelet? Because I feel that is something that he would do. Um, yeah, good luck with that.

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Will Move To Portland After We Break Up

This has happened to me more times than I'd care to admit: Shortly after breaking up, my exes tend to move to Portland, OR aka the farthest possible corner of the United States (excluding remote Alaska or Hawaii). C'mon, was I seriously THAT bad?

So I've decided to turn the tables. After we break up, I'm going to move to Portland.

Yep, that's right. A few weeks after our teary-eyed breakup, I'll be packing my bags, renting a truck, and moving out to Portland to become a copywriter or a graphic designer. Or maybe a green architect. I'll probably end up waiting tables for six months to a year, but whatever.

And you're going to HATE it. I'll make sure of it.

I'll kick things off by posting Facebook photos of my EPIC cross-country roadtrip. They'll be of me in front of the Grand Canyon, standing under the Las Vegas sign, eating at In 'n' Out Burger. While you're sitting in your boring apartment working your boring dayjob, I'll be twisting the knife in by having mind-blowingly fun roadtrip adventures.

Once I arrive in Portland to my modest apartment that I'll share with "some guys I knew back in college," I'll proceed to send you e-mails documenting the following highlights:

- I'll tell you about the amazing locally-grown organic free range coffee shop I found right around the corner from my new place. In your imagination, the lattes there will be 1,000 times better than any latte you've ever tasted.

- I'll tell you about all the great indie record stores that I've discovered, where I just so happened to find an original pressing of your favorite record. Not to mention, I totally bumped into the banjo player from Fleet Foxes there too! Great dude; we totally hit it off.

- Then I'll post photos from a really amazing kayaking trip I took with some granola-loving backpacking kids I met at work. Every single picture will look like it came from a coffee table book titled, "The Most Beautiful Natural Setting You've Ever Seen."

Lastly, I'll tell you about how I started playing cello in an instrumental space-rock project. We started playing shows at the Food Not Bombs collective house and the dude I met from Fleet Foxes totally joined the band too! Now, we're opening for Fleet Foxes on a few West Coast dates.

Basically, with each e-mail, I'll make you despise me more for all the fun I'm having while you're trapped in your boring, uneventful East Coast life. By the time you move on, find someone new, dump him and move out to Portland yourself, I'll be long gone. You see, there will be a new hipster mecca by then. And, it's so obscure you probably haven't even heard of it yet.

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Things That Make Me a Bad Girlfriend: I Will Hate Your Pet

I know there's been a heated controversy over who deserves more scorn, dating someone with a cat or a dog. Me? I can't stand any of 'em. Your dog jumps on the bed while we're spooning and stomps on my face. Your cat is a little dickhead that hisses at me when I try to walk in the kitchen. They both get on my nerves.

I'll take it one step further: your fish is boring. Your hamster's cage smells like urine-soaked wood. Your rabbit poos everywhere. Your bird is a squeaky motherfucker. Your pet rat freaks me out. If you have a snake, I wouldn't return your phone call, much less come over to your house to meet it. And, you already know how I feel about your giant, uncaged iguana.

The only pet I don't completely hate is a plant. All it needs is water and a little love. That you can keep.

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Reader Submitted Things That Make Me a Bad Boyfriend: I Will Hate Your Cat

Buckle up, cat lovers. Our darling reader, Colin, is comin' out swinging against our furry, meowing little friends. Well, not literally. That'd be uncool. But, he definitely has some strong words for them. Let's hear what this Garfield-hater has to say:

I'll be up front: I hate cats.

"But wait!" you say. "You have a terrible allergy and that makes you biased!" It's true; I can't be in a house with a cat for more than ten minutes before I've used up all the tissues and I'm three seconds away from clawing my watering eyes out of my skull.

But, not so fast! I keep a special stash of extra-strength allergy pills that I use solely for the occasion of going to visit someone who has a cat. I even dated a girl with cats for two years. But, I still can't stand them.

This weekend there was a story in the news about a golden retriever that jumped in front of an 11-year-old boy who was being attacked by a cougar, and then the dog fought off the cougar until the Mounties came. Find me a cat that's going to do that. You can't!

Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate the adorableness of a cat. I was at a New Year's Eve party where a tiny cat was curled up on a big stack of pillows and I was even heard to say out loud, "Aw, that's adorable." But it ends there.

I'm sure your cat has a great personality. And truly, I want to hear all about how he sits in the window and stares at the squirrels all day. But, a cat is like a bad roommate: He eats all the food, he hogs the sofa, and he pisses in places where he shouldn't be pissing. You just wish he'd get up and DO something for once.

A dog is like a wingman. He's watching out for you and he's got your back. He gets you girls in the park. Cats don't do any of that. A cat makes you work for them to even acknowledge you, whereas a dog's love is unconditional.

I hate cats, and that includes your cat. And that makes me a bad boyfriend.

As cat lovers, all we have to say is:

[Previously: Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Will Hate Your Dog]

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Cry At Movies

Here's another thing about me that a lot of girls say they want in a boyfriend, but haven't really thought through: I cry at movies. Often.

I know you complain about how you want a guy who's unafraid of showing his emotional side, but until you hear my soft whimpering next to you on the couch when we get to the end of whatever romantic comedy we've decided to watch, you might want to be careful what you ask for.

The weird thing is that it's getting worse with age. I've always been a little teary-eyed at movies, but lately, the dumbest, weirdest shit will bring on the waterworks. Hell, a month ago I cried at a Walmart commercial. I'm totally not an over-emotional person and I don't cry at regular everyday life shit, but for some reason, if it's on the TV, it's fair game.

The absolute worst are the movies involving submarines. There's always that one scene in the movie where the water is filling up in the room and they're all trying to get out before the door shuts. Inevitably, there's always one guy who gets left behind in the room and he can't escape. Then you have the dude on the other side of the door shouting things like, "I'm so sorry!" as the room fills up with water. Hollywood has been writing variations of this scene for 50 years now and it turns me into an emotional mess every time.

In your imagination, maybe the crying you're picturing is a single tear dripping down my cheek wiped away tenderly. But what do you do when there's like 50 tears and then there's Kleenex involved? And if we're talking about the series finale of Six Feet Under, we're talking BOXES of Kleenex.

And then, of course, there will come a time when I'm crying at a movie and YOU'RE not. This has already happened more times than I'd like to admit in past relationships and it ranks pretty high on the humiliation scale.

So if you're tough as nails, or can't handle me sobbing my way through another John Cusack movie*, you might just have to cross my name off your list as a potential boyfriend.


*Note: I did cry at the most recent John Cusack film, 2012, but only after realizing I got tricked into paying $12 to see one of the worst pieces of shit I've ever seen.

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Can't Cook For Shit

The holidays are upon us. It's the time of year when everyone in their mid-20s starts to feel domestic and cozy as the weather cools down and the Christmas commercials start airing on TV. It's also the time of year when I get invited to potlucks.

The potluck is the winter version of a cookout, except it's easy for me to fake my way through a cookout. Any jackass can throw meat on a grill and wait for it to finish cooking. I'm that jackass.

With a potluck, however, things get complicated. You're expected to bring a legit DISH with INGREDIENTS. I can't tell you the last time I bought ingredients and then used them to make a final product. If it doesn't come in a frozen box, a can, or from a menu, it's probably not mine.

Let's be honest here: years of being single and living with roommates and cooking for one has left me a culinary idiot. I hear people talking about buying organic and eating local foods and I have to laugh, because it's a miracle I'm even eating at all. Every time I open my fridge to find food, it's a little mini-celebration in my head that somehow I managed to not run out of groceries again.

So, unfortunately, that's where you come in. If I'm going to be your boyfriend, I'm sorta counting on you to save my life. It's only a matter of time before these freeze-dried processed high-sodium meals just straight-up kill me. I figure if I find a girlfriend who is a foodie, she could potentially add years to my life. At this rate, I feel like I'm probably clocking out at 65, which doesn't leave a whole lot of time. I need to make it until they at least invent flying cars.

I'm not asking for prepared meals here. This isn't the 1950s. But if we're cooking for two, and I have a co-captain of the kitchen to alert me when I accidentally mix in baking soda instead of baking powder, the whole thing is gonna go a whole lot smoother. I'm going to need a hell of a lot of training, because right now I can do scrambled eggs and that's about it.

So, if you're up for the challenge of teaching a totally inept dude how to cook for himself, then we're in business. On the other hand, if you'd be embarrassed that I have no idea how to pick out produce, am totally reckless with a kitchen knife, and consider Ritz crackers with peanut butter a legitimate meal option, then I'm afraid I'd make a bad boyfriend.

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: Car Stereo Control Issues

As we head into the cool fall months, I usually think of mix CDs and long drives through the country. Here in Virginia, it's awesome to get out of the city for the weekend and go see the leaves change color and maybe go find a hike somewhere.

Nothing "bad boyfriend" about any of that, right? Well, kinda. You might not even notice it at first. It's kind of a subtle thing, but eventually you'll catch on--and hate me for it. On the way out the door for a drive, whether it's a six-hour roadtrip to NYC or a 5-minute drive to Taco Bell, I will always have an overabundance of music with me. Usually it's a stack of CDs or my iPod, but it's always something. What's the reason, you ask? I must have control over the car stereo. I didn't even notice it myself, until an ex-girlfriend called me out on it and called me "secret controlling." That's when I realized she was totally right.

Whenever there's a group outing, I'm always the one who volunteers to drive, no matter what. As soon as we hop in the car, I have music at the ready. It's like I'm DJing my own life and I don't want anyone else to have a turn. It's totally ridiculous and I can't stop myself from doing it.

My worst nightmare is a passenger pulling out a CD from their bag and saying "Have you heard _________ yet? It's totally amazing. We should listen to this." That person instantly becomes my mortal enemy and I'll probably hate the band strictly on principle.

I noticed it's getting worse on a recent multi-day roadtrip I took with my brother. He doesn't put up with my controlling shit, so we had agreed to take turns with the car stereo. I'd get to listen to two records, then he'd get two. It worked for a while, but then I found myself totally copping out. He'd be napping in the passenger seat and I'd lie to him when he woke up about how many records I'd played. When he was listening to something I particularly disliked, I'd use the excuse that I was "getting tired behind the wheel" and needed to listen to something I knew and could sing along to.

This is a totally ridiculous problem, right? I've never met anyone else who does this. This is probably because I always volunteer to drive, so I never even have the chance to ride in anyone else's car long enough to find out if they have the same issue

So, fair warning, if we date, we'd better have the exact same taste in music because I'm going to secretly control the car stereo and it might just annoy the hell out of you. And, in turn, that will make me a bad boyfriend.

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I'm The Sweaty Guy On The Dance Floor

You know, a lot of girls complain that their boyfriends don't dance. Most of the dudes I know would prefer to kick back a few beers in the comfort of a booth or a table and don't really ever feel the inclination to shake it on the dance floor.

I'll be honest with you right now: I'm not that guy.

I know what you're thinking. You love dancing too. When the dj plays "Material Girl" by Madonna, you and your girlfriends are out on that dance floor in the blink of an eye. Wouldn't it be great if you had a boyfriend who wanted to do the same?

Maybe. But you haven't thought it through all the way.

I dance at bars, at house parties, at weddings. And here's the thing: I dance hard. I don't think I'm necessarily the greatest dancer, but I don't let that stop me from literally dancing for hours straight.

Here's where the problem comes in: Long after you've stopped dancing, I'm not only still out on the dance floor dancing with complete strangers, but now it's 1:30am and I'm a hot sweaty mess. When the inevitable Facebook photos start popping up, I'm the one people ask about. "Looks like fun, but who was that gyrating, red-faced, sweaty bearded dude?" That was me. I am that guy.

Some people make it look effortless. Some people never break a sweat. I am not fortunate enough to be one of those people. But, I refuse to let it stop me. So unless you love gross sweaty dudes who dance shamelessly to Lady Gaga, then you might want to reconsider letting me be your boyfriend.

[Photo credit: Karen Seifert]

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Will Abuse Our Friendship To Win Internet Contests

Okay, so I know I've only been here a short while and I haven't quite earned my keep. However, I figured since I spend most of my time on this site convincing people why I'm a bad person, I thought this would fit quite nicely.

A few weeks ago, I entered a local photo contest run by the Richmond transit authority to win a free iPhone. As it turns out, only four people entered the contest. Pretty good odds, right?

Voting ends at midnight and I'm neck and neck with one other contestant.

I thought I would try and harness the power of Shmitten Kitten to help put me back in the lead.

As we all know, everyone loves iPhones. If I'm a cool dude with an iPhone, that will surely help in landing me a girlfriend, thereby providing myself with more opportunities to be a bad boyfriend, creating more blog content, and ultimately making the world a better place.

All you need to vote is a valid e-mail address. And I promise no one's gonna spam you. I know the guy in the marketing department running this contest, and more importantly, I know where he lives.

Vote. Do something awesome on a Friday. Help me be a winner. Click on this link to vote:

http://transittalk.com/index.php/contest/

Operators are standing by: (When I say operators, I mean the Internet.)

[Update: Phil has won the contest and is now the proud owner of a new iPhone. Thanks for your help!]

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Things That Make Me A Bad Fiancé: Cubic Zirconia

Welcome to another installment of the Bad Boyfriend Chronicles. We're going to venture into a HIGHLY FICTIONAL realm here and imagine a scenario in which I've actually successfully wooed you (unlikely), kept you interested for a period of at least a year (highly unlikely), and popped the big question to which you've said yes (lightning strike).

Since we've established a few things that make me a bad boyfriend, we're going to dive right in and start off my role as a bad fiancé in the best way possible. I'm going to kick off the whole engagement with a lie:

I'm going to buy you a cubic zirconia and act like it's a real diamond.

I know that sounds fucked up, but let's just be realistic. The most expensive thing I've ever purchased is the high-def TV that currently sits in my living room. It was $2,000. To me, that's an ungodly amount of money. But, now I get to wake up to Matt Lauer in crisp high-def as I eat my cornflakes. And when I come home from work, I can watch epic movies and VH1 reality shows to my heart's content in stunning detail. Not bad!

Imagine for a moment that someone invented a high-def TV that was 1/10th the price and looked EXACTLY the same and displayed that same crisp high-def picture and looked awesome. Maybe it had some cheaper components, but only someone highly trained in HDTV technology could tell the difference. I'd be all over that in a heartbeat. Give me the cheaper TV. I don't know any better. Ignorance is bliss.

Unless you're a gemologist with a magnifying glass, you're not going to know that I bought you a CZ. Now, this isn't amateur hour. I'm not going to get some ridiculously large CZ and try to pass it off as a diamond. My entry-level marketing job and aging Honda Civic are pretty clear indicators of my income bracket. Instead, I'll pick out something reasonable that you wouldn't suspect to be a fake.

In the end, this will all be for the best. Instead of going into debt to finance an overpriced rock that you wear on your finger, I'll save a bunch of money that will be spent in our inevitable divorce settlement once you find out that I make a bad husband in addition to being a bad boyfriend and bad fiancé.

Long after the marriage is dissolved and you've burned all the photographs and other evidence of me, you'll go to get the ring appraised to sell as a final "fuck you!" And that's when you'll find out it was a CZ the whole time. That's also when I'll officially win.

Unless of course, we never get divorced and manage to live happily ever after, in which case, I win as well.

As you can see, there's really no downside to the cubic zirconia, aside from the fact that it most definitely makes me a bad fiancé.

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Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend: I Will Drag You To Civil War Battlefields

For our second installment of "Things That Make Me A Bad Boyfriend," I thought we'd steer in a direction that is much less controversial, but infinitely more boring.

I hope you didn't have any plans on Saturday, because if I was your boyfriend, there's a good chance I'd be waking you up at 9:00am to drive out to a living history event at a nearby Civil War battlefield.

I feel like most guys have their own "nerd shit." Some guys nerd out about college football, some guys are way into cars, some guys can quote lines from any comedy movie released in the last 20 years. This is some Level 1 nerdery. I'm on Level 5.

I am a history nerd. Instead of swooning over the Twilight series, you'll usually find me reading a history book. And, more often than not, I'm reading about the Civil War.

Now, I kinda have a geographic excuse. I live in Richmond, VA, the capital of the Confederacy. The large majority of the intense battles of the Civil War happened within a 100-mile radius of my apartment. It's interesting stuff! But here's where it sucks for you:

• On a regular basis, I will invite you to come along with me to various living history events, lectures, and maybe even a few re-enactments. You might think this is cute at first, and then you'll see how into it I am, and once the chills of embarrassment subside, all that's going to be left is sheer annoyance.

• Instead of a weekend getaway to the beach or to New York City, I'm going to propose a roadtrip to Gettysburg and Antietam. The entire drive I will share Civil War anecdotes with you. I might even make you listen to an audiobook about the battles--or Phil Collins albums, but that's an entirely different blog entry.

• I will bring up Civil War historical references while we're at the bar with your friends. It will usually start with "Did you know..." and will end with all your friends thinking you're dating a TOTAL FUCKING WEIRDO.

If that's not enough, this will definitely scare you: When I first started seriously getting interested in the Civil War, the one question everyone asked me was whether or not I would ever participate in a re-enactment. My first reaction was "Oh no, no...I'm not THAT into it." But as time goes by, and as I see the direction I'm heading in, well, I can totally see myself as a 40-year-old dude with a gnarly Civil War beard, camping out with other Civil War history dorks and shooting rifles in a field. So, if you read all this and don't think that my Civil War habits are annoying, brace yourself for some Level 10 nerdery in about ten years or so.

So basically, unless you're a National Parks Service employee or someone who is already a Civil War re-enactor (hoop skirts! yowza!), you're probably going to think I'm a bad boyfriend.

[After praising Phil for having the most perfect profile picture ever, we lassoed him into being a guest contributor. He loves illegal bonfires, Big Gulps, and daydreaming about his upcoming trip to Iceland. Check him out here.]

7 Comments

Things That Make Me a Bad Boyfriend: I Will Hate Your Dog

I'm sorry, but it's true.

I know how much the little guy means to you. He showers you with love and devotion 24 hours a day. He jumps up and down every time you come home from work. He'll cuddle up on your lap when you're watching television. I get it. It doesn't matter what you do, that dog is going to be blindly devoted to you FOR LIFE.

Which, for the record, is also why I hate your dog. Believe me, I've tried to like dogs. I've tried to get past the weird smell, the poor bowel control, and the fact that they like to destroy household items when left alone. I dig loyalty. I support devotion; just not from a dog.

I've done a lot of thinking about where this comes from. I never had a dog growing up, so maybe that is a big part of it. The main issue I have is this: I think a dog's love is cheap. When you come home from work, the dog jumps up and down and freaks out like it's been five years since the last time he saw you. But here's the thing, it does the same thing when I come home. It will do the same thing to the pizza delivery guy. It's bullshit!

Not to make this a cats vs. dogs thing, but when I was growing up, unless you were directly responsible for the feeding and care of the family cat, it did not give a SHIT about you. It barely registered your presence in the room. So when my cat would jump on my lap while I was watching TV, I knew I earned that shit. It was a love based on mutual respect and appreciation: I empty your litter box sometimes, you don't knock over stuff on the kitchen counter. I GET that. It makes sense to me.

So anyway, when we start dating, I will pretend to be cool with your dog. I won't be OVERLY enthusiastic about your canine friend, but I won't let on that I'm not a dog person, because I recognize that could be a pretty big dealbreaker. I will get secretly annoyed when you can't sleep over because you have to walk your dog. I will show the minimum required amount of affection towards your dog when we hang out. I will also wash my hands repeatedly to try to remove the dog smell afterwards. And lastly, I will NEVER, repeat, N-E-V-E-R pick up your dog's shit with my hands--plastic baggy or not.

If you turn out to be a keeper, then we'll just have to weigh the pros and cons: Mindblowingly amazing girl vs. dog who I will have to tolerate possibly for the rest of my life. With the right girl, I'm pretty sure I could learn to survive life as a dog owner. Who knows? Maybe your dog will grow on me. But for now, the cold hard reality of the situation is that I will hate your dog. And that makes me a bad boyfriend.

[After praising Phil for having the most perfect profile picture ever, we lassoed him into being a guest contributor. He loves illegal bonfires, Big Gulps, and Civil War history. Check him out here.]

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