To quote the iconic, Oscar-losing 2002 film Spiderman, “With great power comes great responsibility.” Lately, I feel a lot like Peter Parker, and not just because my girlfriend keeps getting “kidnapped” by much bigger, stronger men.
The universe has provided me with an opportunity to be the ultimate hero. My best friend Erik is newly single after nine years. Yes, you read that number correctly. NINE YEARS. I’ve had dogs that lived shorter than that. This dude was in the same relationship since eighth grade. Back when Ashton Kutcher was a national icon and we still thought My Chemical Romance was deep.
Nine years is a long time to be in a relationship, especially at such a young age. After almost a decade of monogamy, he’s being let out into the wild learning how to play the game before the game plays him. I met Erik in 9th grade. Now I’m not even good at math, but it’s easy to crunch these numbers. This means that for the first moment in the history of our friendship, single Erik is on the loose. So I’m gonna do what any halfway decent friend is supposed to do, and wingman my boy the fuck out.
This is my greatest challenge yet. Winging a dude who hasn’t been single in nine years, dragging him out to bars and clubs and trying to get him into some chick’s tampon tunnel. This will require a lot of work ethic, dedication, and whiskey. But I’m up to the task. I was born ready. My entire life has been to leading up to this moment.
God himself has bestowed this great responsibility upon me because he trusted my well-trained wingman instincts. I humbly accept this historic opportunity and I promise to not let God, Erik, or myself down. Being a wingman is an art, it takes years and years of meticulous training to master it. On top of that, there’s nothing more fun than hitting on a girl for someone else since the stakes feel so damn low. If you face rejection, who gives a rat’s ass? They’re not rejecting YOU, they’re rejecting your friend. They’re using a delivery system to relay that rejection to him, not shooting the messenger.
Let’s look at it like boxing. Every great fighter had a great trainer that helped to build them up. Basically, I’m Cus D’Amato and Erik is Mike Tyson, except I’m not an obese Italian man and Erik hasn’t developed a drug problem yet. This is our chance to show the world who the heavyweight champ of douchebaggery is.
I have faith that we’ll be successful in our mission. Three months from now, my friend will have every curable STI known to humankind and he’ll be knee deep in paternity lawsuits. I bet my Certified Wingman License on it..