Chapter 1: Independent Liberal Seeks White Trash Man Child

I have a type, and it is a problem.

Perhaps I have these wildly romantic notions about scruffy-ass man children who casually spit on the ground and get too many criminal-level speeding tickets because I dabbled in far too many romantic novels in high school. In those years, my brain was growing and I was stuffing it with literary plots featuring the Matt Dillons and the Johnny Pacars and the Brandon-Flowers-as-Mr.-Brightsides who tend to stew about for a bit before they come to their senses and save the day. (Or they just sit around in guyliner, which is a perfectly acceptable hobby.)


I have a type, and it is a problem.

Part I: Deep. Background.

  1. “Andy Dwyer, Alcoholic.” The first boyfriend (and love) was a giant construction working doofus with a kind-but-careless heart. The roman numerals “VII” are scrawled across his chest, and a drunken-looking playing card decorates his outer bicep. He introduced me to Marlboro Reds, creepy antiques, stargazing and hickeys. He also went to jail on the weekend of my 19th birthday and lied to me about it.
  2. “Renaissance Mullet.” My most recent ex-boyfriend is training to be a brewer. He taught me how to change my oil while Killswitch Engage roared on the garage radio. He has very long eyelashes and, thankfully, better tattoos than Andy Dwyer, Alcoholic (which is not related but fairly important to note). As of late, he’s sort of rocking the curly mullet look. That’s all you need to know.

I have a type and it is a problem.

Part II: You too can find a White Trash Man Child in his natural habitat.

How to spot a White Trash Man Child in the wild: They love the SACRED SECOND AMENDMENT and will probably unload a handgun in your room as part of their weird mating dance ritual, while Brad Pitt’s Fight Club abs flash on and off the TV screen in the living room. (Nope, no human washboard for you. Sorry.)

They will also probably tell you about their love for psychology and their “never-ending intrigue” with the Joker.


There are two possible outcomes when you entangle yourself with a White Trash Man Child.

He either:

A) Goes to jail and consequently gets dumped. OOPS.


B) Does something really stupid that you warned him not to do, and consequently gets dumped. LATER.

It’s been a bumpy ride.

Join the dumpster fire and follow my ill-fated quest for love!

As Chapter 1: Independent Liberal Seeks White Trash Man Child comes to a close, I invite you to partake in *cue lights* Chapter 2: Independent Liberal Has Enough of This Nonsense. (Coming soon!)

*Please note: I do not own the featured art. In fact, it is a piece by the lovely Sandro Botticelli, and you should go see him do his thing.