A WET Review

I don’t know what I was thinking when I saw you that fateful Walmart night. You were elegant in your simplistic and modest design, carried yourself with dignity and poise; that’s probably what got me. But when I picked you up and brought you home, there was an immediate and nagging feeling: would you be worth it?

I’ve been told that relationships are sometimes defined by their limits. This is one of those cases and sadly I realized how limited our relationship was going to be almost immediately. Birds gotta fly; fish gotta swim; I need that kind of freedom too. Don’t tell me I can and can’t go. And don’t hold me back from even trying, that’s even more annoying. Even in our intimate moments where we’re shooting up generic Triad soon-to-be-victim #85, you’re not giving me much to work with. It’s the same thing over and over again. Get in position, activate slow motion time, mash away until objectives are sated, repeat ad nauseum.

After spending a few hours with you, I don’t think you’re my type. And it’s definitely not your presentation, since you definitely have that down. The Tarentino-styled flourishes and homages tickled my fancy. Your music taste is impeccably fitting. But you’re shallow. You don’t challenge yourself to try new things. I don’t see myself getting much out of this relationship.

Sorry, but I think we’re probably better off friends. Thanks for the memories.

Song that sums up my feelings of the game: Felt (Slug and Murs) – Woman Tonight

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