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While it’s true that tequila can mysteriously sneak up on the best of us at the end of the night, you actually like to start off with tequila, which automatically makes you a masochistic weirdo. However, it also makes you impressively goal-oriented: you don’t drink to get drunk, you drink to get cray, and how are you supposed to get there by sipping on weak ass cocktails for three hours?

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In order to bag a Princess/live happily ever after/be a hero, princes have to be: ripped, two weeks away from coming into their inheritance, live in a castle, and have a face like looking directly at an orgasm.