My Boyfriend's Back
This past week, I’ve been immersing myself in the haute couture of Switzerland with my new European amis. Today, my Joe-Blow American beau showed up, in a ratty Frenzy tee and jeans. Mon dieu!
How do I tell the dude that I have developed more sophisticated tastes?
-My Boyfriend’s Back
Dear Boyfriend’s Back,
I know the type… Shows up with a sense of entitlement bigger than a school bus, dressed like a ragpicker, and thoroughly incapable of appreciating anything in life finer than PowerBait with a Bud chaser.
And there you are, sitting in a gaufre chambre with some cat named Clos, sipping absinthe, when El Dufo walks up and says, “Favre is coming out of retirement again and I get stuck here in Heidiland.” C’est bummer!
Here’s what I’d do: tell him you want to meet him back at the hotel for a little “fun with CSS, if you know what I mean.” Then split.
I can’t believe I have to figure this stuff out for you. Pathetic.