Somewhere along the line you fell into The Gap. And, without really wondering why this had happened, you eventually resigned yourself to not ever making your way back out. #dressnormal, I guess.
You have way more negative opinions on pumpkin spice flavored beverages and pumpkin spice scented paraphernalia than is warranted or reasonable, and your reason isn’t that you have something against gourds or that you don’t very much enjoy the autumnal time of the year, but because you feel like you should be against all of these things because “Basic Bitches” are so staunchly in favor of them. It hasn’t occurred to you that by swimming against a pumpkin seed-laden stream that you are actually falling in with the male version of the “Basic” phenomenon.
You spend more time talking to people about how fantastic a show The Wire is than you do actually watching the show and enjoying it for pure entertainment.
Much like The Wire, you spend more time singing the praises of bacon and talking about how you absolutely adore it than you do actually enjoying the experience of consuming massive amounts of bacon. Like, just eat it, bro.
You play fantasy football with your friends, and constantly tell people that your league with the guys has molded into essentially the same league dynamic as is found on the television show The League. And you constantly rip on your married friends about how you bet their wife is the one who is really managing their team this season.
You are very passionate about a number of sports teams, and often refer to them as “we,” despite the fact that you have no connection to the team other than idol worship and occasionalyl paying exorbitant sums for apparel or to watch the real players do their jobs in real life.
You adamantly despise hipsters, but you don’t really know what a “hipster” is and are unable to succinctly describe what the term “hipster” means to you. So you just call people hipsters whenever you discover that they have different interests and engage in a different lifestyle than you do.
You own at least one gingham patterned button-down shirt, probably from either J. Crew, Old Navy, or, your old mainstay, The Gap.
Your weekend meals are often had at a chain restaurant, despite the fact that you live in a city or town where there are plenty of local, grassroots eateries around that probably have better and more unique menu offerings than Olive Garden or T.G.I. Fridays or Buffalo Wild Wings. You make a show about how you eat at these places ironically, and refuse to ever reveal to anybody that you eat there because, quite frankly, you enjoy all-you-can-eat appetizers, breadsticks, etc., and don’t find the quality to be all that bad.
You often refer to appetizers as “apps.”
When you order Chinese food, you get General Tso’s chicken, and when you order Japanese, you cop a couple California Rolls. And you have recently gotten really into ramen.
If you’re married, you often complain to your male friends about how since you tied the knot you have not been getting laid at all, and you encourage your un-married friends to never “take the plunge.”
Strength training is part of your workout regimen, but you have no real practical reason for making yourself physically stronger.
There is instilled in you a very strong loyalty to Chipotle, and you get unreasonably angry when somebody suggests that Chipotle is no better—and is often much worse—than any of the non-chain joints in your vicinity, many of which deliver Mexican food things straight to your door.
When confronted with an awkward silence, your go-to topic is almost always either the weather, or the most current mainstream story about a professional athlete behaving horribly in a felonious way. Or something about a “fappening.”
When you go out with your friends, you never point out that you all seem to be dressed in pretty much the same way without having planned it.
A sizable chunk of your unsolicited break time at work is spent surfing The Chive, Tindering on the toilet, and bragging to colleagues and friends about how you only Tinder while on the toilet.
You tell people your favorite movie is Fight Club, but you are unable to explain why, or to contribute to conversations about the film’s deeper meanings beyond dudes getting together to fight one another in random basements.
You swear to god you will punch the next motherfucker who suggests you read a book.
You adore The Black Keys and side with them in their beef with Jack White.