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Eli and Tom - Who Deserves My Love?

Dear Tom and Eli,

Sorry to bother you with this, I know you’ve both got a lot on your minds, like “What the heck do I wear when I show up to the Superbowl?” The answer of course is Adidas track pants, Air Jordans  and a customized blazer-hoodie, but it would be seriously embarrassing if you both took my advice and wore the same outfit. 

Anyway, it has come to my attention that there is a competition going on between the two of you, and it’s time it was settled. All of this football stuff is pretty much a jousting tournament to decide who will win my heart, but it’s all so unnecessary! I’ll just come out and tell you how this is going to end. 

My decision comes after much labor, effort, and consultation, but I have to say I am not happy about having to choose between the two of you. If this were an arranged marriage and my parents were like “Hey, we’re going to arrange a marriage for you, but we’re giving you a choice between this dude and this dude,” I would be like “What the hell, mom and dad!? I like two categories of men - basketball players and economics professors DON’T YOU KNOW THAT!?” But I guess it could be worse. 

Tom, you are indisputably handsome. I am attracted to your nice teeth and your sexy body. But it takes a lot more than lust to keep a life-long commitment afloat. Also, it doesn’t matter how sexy you are, an Ugg Boot endorsement is totally unacceptable. And I don’t really understand why you would ever do shit like this. It seems like you do have a larger than usual capacity for emotion (number 199, blah blah blah), but I know you would make me feel inferior to your previous smoking-hot loves with well-intentioned but insensitive comments like “Oh honey, why do you have those bags under your eyes?” and “Wow, do you think your unusually large, round butt is a result of your adorable peasant genetic background?” This would cause me to reply defensively and illogically with something like “DON’T YOU REALIZE HOW HARD I WORK!??” when the real answer should be, “Well, sweet Tom, this is just the hand I was dealt, and I’m doing the best I can with it. Thank you for loving me anyway.” You can see the challenges that would lie ahead for us. Not to mention your hair stresses me out[1]. 

Eli, I think our biggest challenge would be that I don’t like or care about football. Psych! That is the least of our worries. You’ve got some real drawbacks and the foundation of any good relationship is honesty and meanness so let me tell you what they are. First, you kind of mumble. Actually you seriously mumble and it’s pretty unbearable. Just chill, it’s worth it to take the time to pronounce s’s at the end of words. Other problems include: 1) when you smile it’s hard to tell if you are reacting to the real-life situation or a kitten joke you just told yourself in your head, 2) My family thinks you are humorless, cardboard, incapable of love, etc. They also think living in Massachusetts is a good enough reason to be a Patriots fan – I disagree, but my family has a weasely way of being influential, 3) You live in Hoboken. Why? 

But Eli, your sexiness is dramatically underrated, and the third category of men I like is underdogs. I suspect there’s a lot of intelligence and tenderness hiding behind all those long pauses and blank stares. You’re goofy and silly, and you’re the kind of man I can imagine rolling around in bed with on Sunday morning and being like “no YOU look like a pug,” “no YOOOU look like a pug.” Wouldn’t that be fun? You’ve also overcome a lot, and you’re close with your mom, and you’re about to win the Superbowl AGAIN. That’s right, I said it. So after you win, let’s give it a shot. 

With future love for Eli, and perpetual ambivalent like for Tom,

Catherine