Did you date an alt-bro (see Gavin Tomson’s taxonomy at the Awl to confirm) for a hot, regrettable second?
Did he nod so much that you wondered if that’s why he had such a well-defined jawbone? Did he demonstate incredible recall regarding the unique origin of every article of his clothing (thrift store in Toronto, an old man’s stoop sale in Austin, a pile of discarded clothes in Prague)? Did he use the word post-political? Did he fail to remember simple details of your life and circumstance, such as “Which apartment do I buzz for again?” and “Have I met that friend?” and “Wait, what is your job, though?”
After you broke up, did he text you back three weeks later with an urgent need to recover his copy of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, because it has some margin notes that he thinks would be a crucially relevant prose poem? Don’t text back. Use the book as a coaster.