Let’s get it straight guys: I’m nobody. Just your average short, uncoordinated, mumbling white guy.
My style is best described as “cubicle chic”, and my intellect hovers somewhere between “riveted by the Fast and Furious series” and “confused by Harry Potter”. Ask me to shoot a basketball and I’ll promptly dribble it off my foot.
Kobe!
I’m impressively average, and by that logic, you’d be thoroughly underwhelmed if you ever met me IRL. In fact, I’ve learned to leave my dating profiles completely blank, so women can at least appreciate my honesty in that I have literally nothing going on.
Luckily, Mark Zuckerberg has provided hope for all the below average guys out there (which is the first sign that this is going to be tragic, but a guy needs to dream once in awhile!)!
Facebook’s building the metaverse — an entire virtual world to explore — and inside I can be anything I want! I’ll be able to do anything I want to do! Buy cool new threads to wear! Trick out a virtual mansion of my own design! Meet and court beautiful women!
Amazing! But really all I have to say about this is…
Fuck that shit!
You know what I’m going to end up being in the metaverse?: Disappointing.
I’ll walk into the virtual room where you’re playing poker with Godzilla and a more attractive Gal Gadot, and you’ll wonder why this dude chose Mr. Potatohead as his avatar — a dumpy dude with a shitty little top hat and a cockeyed face.
What? You expect that I’ll be any better at designing and dressing an avatar than I can myself in real life?
I’ll sit down at your table, probably sneeze into my headset mic, and mumble something awkward like, “Are the cards as hot as you are tonight, m’lady?” because of course the metaverse can’t save me from what’s going to come out of my own, actual mouth. Then I’ll forget I’m unmuted and yell at my mom to get her cat off my keyboard.
Just really charming the pants off the entire table, ya know?
But maybe, god knows how, I’ll hit it off with Gal Gadot. More likely she’s just willing to throw me a bone because luckily there’s no way I can get her pregnant in the Metaverse. And so she decides to come home with me.
Oh baby. Game on!
Well, I hope she likes a minimalist aesthetic, because I haven’t done shit with my virtual apartment. It’ll look like a fresh game a Minecraft — just a pixelated floor floating in an empty void. While everyone else in the Metaverse is buying NFT art to fill up their walls, I’m just sitting on a chair in the middle of an empty warehouse like I’m being ransomed.
To be clear, I haven’t bought art for my real apartment. Do you really think I’m going to open my wallet for a place for a virtual Mr. Potatohead to fart around in?
So I won’t be Cassanova in the Metaverse. But at least there are all the experiences! I’ll be able to slay virtual dragons, surf virtual waves, and hit virtual home runs in Yankee Stadium!
Fantastic!
That really does sound amazing… for anyone halfway decent at video games. I, on the other hand, suck at them. Do you think I‘ll get any better when you add a third dimension and tell me to use more than just my thumbs to control my avatar? No chance.
So that leaves… porn.
Let’s be honest. Like most sorry dudes, I’ll probably just be in the metaverse for the porn.
Except being so out of the loop, I won’t have VIP access to all of the cool virtual brothels. Instead you’ll see me walking out of a tinted storefront, carrying a bag of discount nudie NFTs — mutant frog women and half-finished Hentai.
You’ll follow me home to my apartment where I’ll sit alone like the last piece on a chessboard, my arm flailing like an Italian gesticulating in an argument. Then you’ll hear me fumbling around with a tissue box, swear under my breath, and yell at my mom to bring a fresh box of Kleenex…
“Quick!”
