I get it. You own an acoustic guitar. You cover the outside of your guitar case in stickers of indie bands I’ve never heard of. You have a quirky, “interesting” guitar strap. You’re moody, you're introspective, and somehow, when you combine that instrument with the three whole chords you actually know, every girl on the planet suddenly wants to sit near you.
Are you kidding me?
Back when I was in high school, your type knew the basic chords to The Calling’s "Wherever You Will Go" and Bon Jovi's "Bed of Roses." What is it now? Something by the Jonas Brothers or Maroon 5?
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
You have brilliantly engineered a way to carry the one thing you're good at everywhere you go. And honestly? I am incredibly jealous. True that.
But think about the logistics here. What if oil painting was the thing I was best at? Would it be socially acceptable for me to just casually haul around a canvas and an easel, and when girls ask, "Oh, do you know how to paint?" I could effortlessly reply, "Oh, this old thing? I guess I forgot I even had it with me." Or what if I was really good at pottery? Should I start lugging around a massive kiln and a pottery wheel on my back like Patrick Swayze in Ghost? Because that is exactly what you do. You pretend you just happened to have a four-foot hollow wooden instrument attached to your body. Like the entire scenario was just a happy accident.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
One of these days, I am going to steal your guitar and replace it with a set of massive orchestral handbells and those white gloves handbellers (or is it just “bellers”?) wear. Let’s see how easy it is to secure a date when your entire musical repertoire consists of aggressively swinging a giant brass bell.
Ding dong, and fuck yourself, Guitar Man.
Are you fucking kidding me?
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