Ten Houston Dudes You've Probably Dated
|Triple Tri via Flickr|
The Die Hard Longhorn Alum
See The Die Hard Aggie Fan, only replace maroon with burnt orange and a silhouette of some sort of cattle. They're interchangeable, really.
The 30k Millionaire
This guy. I mean, we all know this guy. He pulls up to your house in a BMW, and he makes sure to tell you it's a BMW as you step in. He doesn't let you put your feet on his floor mats, though, because after all, it's a BMW. You're left to somehow lift your feet inches off that imported plastic mat, your legs cramping from the muscle tension it takes to do so while he drives fast as hell down I-10 because, well, Beemer and all. You pull up to the overpriced restaurant, and he barks at the valet about not touching the buttons.
He then proceeds to spend the entire dinner forcing you to gag from disgust as he talks about how much money he has, and how much his car cost, and how much ass he pulls because of his money, money, money. And yet, on the way home, he invites you back to his mother's house, where he lives, because he can't afford his lifestyle with well, his Beemer and all.
The Inner Looper
The Inner Looper. This isn't the guy who lives in the inner loop, it's the guy who can't live without the inner loop. He's a trembling little girl when it comes to driving outside of the confines of his comfort zone, convinced that areas of the city that aren't snuggled within the 610 borders are full of some Tobacco Road/Deliverance type of folks, complete with sawed off shotguns and terrible taste in shoes and music. And when you suggest that you should meet for the steak frittes and a martini at Flora & Muse, he spends the next hour rocking in a corner in some little hipster bar in protest. He will never leave the loop for you. NEVER.