Yes, It’s Really Me, The Sad Boy Of Your Dreams
You can stop dating regular men now, because it’s me, your local Sad Boy. I'm here to hold your hand as I agree with you that men really are totally awful—but not me because I’m sad!—and then I’m going to try and change everything about you and be mopey about it when you resist.
By 
Katie Mather
Hi. I’ve decided to stop brooding for the time being so that I can mope in your line of vision at this bar until you come over and talk to me. For you see, sweet girl, I am the Sad Boy of your dreams—here, gently sipping a beer, and being miserable. Please, come, sit with me and let’s talk about how unfair it is that nice girls like you always go for the worst types of guys. I’m not a bad guy! I’m sad! I weigh 135lbs! How nonthreatening! Feelings! Wow!
I’m just here to agree with you that men are so totally awful to women—but not me because I’m sad!—and then I’m going to try and fix everything about you and be terrible too. But in a different way, because of the sadness. Have you read ‘The Raven’? I have a (misquoted) line from it tattooed on my ribcage.
Let’s talk about things that really matter—me and how you should date me. I’ve written two think pieces on the friend zone, so I will be a nightmare if you reject me. Ugh, I’m really sad. I can’t tell you why. It would maybe help if you dated me.
Oh, my beautiful goddess-who-I’m-going-to-put-on-an-impossibly-high-pedestal-until-I-ultimately-either-make-you-marry-me-or-ghost-you, I am so interested in (fixing) you.
Sad boys like me have such trouble with women! We have so many deep feelings and not everyone understands what the point of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is.
I just love listening to you talk, because what I’m hearing are all the ways I can try and save you. I just want to take care of you forever. I want to read Vonnegut to you before you go to sleep—partly because his words are *kisses fingers* and mostly because I slip into behavior that seems like I legitimately don’t see you as a regular, functioning member of society.
Did you exist without my help before we met? I can’t remember.
And if I send you my poetry, you are not allowed to critique it unless you (correctly) say that it’s “moving.” If you say anything else, it will make me more sad. I have many layers. I work in tech but still consider myself a Creative. I think Rupi Kaur ripped me off, I don’t know how she found my private Tumblr.
Ugh, fuck me, I’m sad. 
