The cover of Cosmo’s 50th anniversary issue is proof of the power of hypnosis: Each of the Kardashians serves their own unique fierceness, attempting to stand apart from each other while still appearing as a cohesive unit, mesmerizing you with their chic bedhead and smoldering eyes. It isn’t until you reach Khloé and her shock of blonde hair that you snap out of your Kardashian fever dream and wonder: Where the hell is Rob?
A bajillion words have been spilled about the importance of the Kardashians, and I endorse every single one of them, but the Kardashian we talk about least is actually the most interesting: Rob. Sweet, beautiful, notoriously heartbroken Rob.
Rob is the antihero of our time: His father died when he was very young, he watched helplessly as his sisters became famous by savvily monetizing their hotness, and all he got was a stupid fucking sock line and paparazzi following him every time he wanted some In-N-Out.
The Kardashians are famous for being real, but Rob is the realest. Really, which do you see yourself in more: the beautiful bombshell who wraps her car in velvet, or the guy who gets so upset about mean internet comments that he skips out on his sister’s wedding? There is no permanent Instagram filter on Rob’s life. He “smokes weed, drinks beer and plays video games all day” and Instagrams stills from The Life Aquatic. Rob Kardashian is all of us.
Rob deserves more than a bit part on his sisters’ reality show and a fling with Rita Ora (who?). He deserves to be released from the prison of his sisters’ success, to find a nice girl to play video games with, to start a new, quiet life somewhere where no one knows his name. Rob deserves to be free. Free Rob.
Rob is probably returning for the next season of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Perhaps the best we can hope for him is a spinoff called Keeping Up With the Kardashians: Rob’s Revenge.
