Confessions of a Self-Diagnosed Asshole

I think I might be an asshole.

I am not comfortable about this, but there are some meaningful facts that imply that I may be indeed an asshole.

Exhibit A: My Car

I was watching Silicon Valley, and there is a scene where one of the characters fell into some money, bought a yellow Corvette, and returned it because when looking in the reflection of a window, he said ‘I looked like an asshole’. I have a yellow Corvette. And Silicon Valley is way more insightful than I am.

Exhibit B: Gym

There is a new commercial for Planet Fitness with a ripped gym rat looking at himself in the mirror, posing and the like. The asshole says ‘there is not enough mirrors in here’. Planet Fitness says that this asshole will NOT be at their gym. I go to the gym. I preen in front of the mirror at times.

Exhibit C: Clothes

I own Lucky jeans. One is even ‘slim fit’.

Also, I have a few shirts that are ‘large’ but fit tight.

Exhibit D: Politics

On multiple occasions I have been found complaining about paying too much in taxes and that homeless people should simply ‘just find a job and leave me alone’.

Exhibit E: Online Dating

I have swiped left/right on Tinder just to people watch and have no intention of meeting them.

Yes, this is some damning evidence that I maybe am becoming an asshole. In my defense, much like a werewolf in mid transition, I am not completely there yet. I still ride the bus to work, I do not go to the gym to ‘hit on chicks’, I have an ample supply of Lord of the Rings/Game of Thrones mash-up shirts that I wear daily to work, I am no Trump supporter, and I am not a predator in the online dating world. But there is no question that if this trend continues, I may become a full-fledged, 100% douchy asshole.

Hate to cut this short, but it is lunch time and I have to eat some kale and tell everyone about it.