7 Types Of Schmucks You’ll Most Likely Date In Your 20s

Your 20s are that crucial time of exploration you’ll never get back when, say, you’re in your 30s and doting on your loving family. But right now, there’s always time for the shithead-next-door. That way, too, when you’re at brunch with your girlfriends you can say: Thank God I didn’t end up with that loser. So here are seven types of schmucks you might meet along the way to the one.

1. The Stoop Hippie

   
 We’ve all seen them; those guys that spread peace and love outside your apartment. They’re typically wearing high-top converse and chain smoking American Spirits. They’re freelancers and they love pizza without cheese.

They also love to talk about the next rooftop concert a few blocks away or inadvertently sprinkle the smell of marijuana on your work outfit. And yeah. The word “date” doesn’t enter their vocabulary. Nope. It’s just peace and love, man.

2. The Pothead

This could be a lot of guys, who may have gone to Harvard or even own their own company. But chances are, it’s going down the drain because all they can do to function is get high.

Sure, it’s fine to take a drag of Mary Jane, but the aftermath of most or all of your dates will revolve around dead-end discussions. It just doesn’t piece together a lasting relationship, now does it?

3. The Comedian

You can probably spot one of these from a mile away. Why? Because this kid is needier than a 4-year-old crying for a piece of candy before dinner. Sure, some chemistry was instant, but their constant approval-seeking will get old fast. They’ll be soliciting so much attention from strangers that you’ll easily forget when they’re not performing, preparing for their next big chance to get discovered. (And um, btw, it’s this Saturday, in case you forgot.)

Just smile and muster a laugh at one of his Stewie Griffin impressions. Next!

4. The Mama’s Boy

He’s sweet. He’s understanding. And he’s just the right amount of calm, collected and clever. But he has to be home by 10 p.m. on weekdays and around midnight on weekends. He still lives at his parents and his mom needs him to check the cupboards. She thinks she saw a rat in there.

No matter how cute this guy is, he’ll always need his mom’s approval over yours. Probably best to let this one go, even if he has good credit and could just maybe be the father of your future children.

5. The Know-It-All   

                 
You went to college. Your degree is hanging on the wall of your falling-down Bushwick apartment. But it’s nothing compared to the knowledge of the know-it-all. He just, well, knows a lot more than you can or ever will. And Jesus-fucking-Christ, does he let you know. Everything you know, he’s ready to tear down with a, but what about or did you know?
Word to the wise, probably best to just skip even a simple hangout with this one altogether. You’ll be too pissed to talk after he’s opened his mouth even once, much less to stick your tongue in there to shut him up.

6. The Mooch

He might be poor. Or he might just be insanely frugal. But either way, he doesn’t believe in going Dutch. He believes in completely saving his resources (however small or large those are) and he believes in being waited on hand-and-foot. So sure, you guys can go out for dinner, but don’t expect him to even drop the tip, much less the bill.

He’s like to be very charismatic or handsome or both. However, his welcome runs out rather fast, even if he’s good in bed, too. You’re in your 20s, for God’s sake. Unless you’re a trust fund baby, you’ve only got so much money to throw away on this Mooch.

7. The Artist

He loves classical music, antiquing and describing the difference between French modernist expression and impressionism. But yeah.  He’d rather be eating some biscuits at that coffee shop over there than carry boxes of clothing up the stairs to your new apartment. He was hit with the creative muse and he didn’t want to callus his hands. Um, ok. Thanks, but no thanks.

Then there’s one schmuck who comes along who’s the least shitty. And even if he’s a little too schmuck-y, there’s always divorce, right?