I Shoulda Known When You Failed the Wolverine Test

Dear Guy I've Been Seeing,

Sorry, it's not going to work out. It's not you. And it's not me.

It's the wolverine.

No, we're not talking about Hugh Jackman and his razor-defying sideburns. And wolverine isn't the nickname for my new dude. It's a metaphor. For how much you suck.

You failed the wolverine test. What's the wolverine test? A friend once told me that she liked to imagine how every guy she dated would respond if a vicious wolverine suddenly crossed her path while she was with her man. Would he run? Would he fight it? Would he protect her and their hypothetical spawn? Would he start crying? Pee his pants? Twitter about it then take a picture because, hey pics or it didn't happen?

Sadly most of the guys she dated would fail the wolverine test. Big time.

What would your reaction be? Well, you would start complaining to the wolverine. You would tell the wolverine all about how no one likes minimal techno as much as you do, how much you hate your roommates, how New York is being gentrified at an effing alarming rate, how your job bores you; and that's just in the first five minutes. The wolverine would get annoyed, maybe start yawning, checking his wolverine Swatch watch for the time. Why? Because like me, the WOLVERINE DOESN'T WANT TO HEAR IT.

I shoulda known this wasn't going to work out as soon as I visualized your response to this scenario. So I'm kicking you and your big, boring mouth out. *cue up "I Don't Wanna Hear It" by Minor Threat*