You were exhausted. Truly. At first, your relationship with Farris was fine, he was sweet and loved spending time with you. A little dumb at times—maybe slow, even—but sweet nonetheless. As most guys were, to be honest.

Everything was adequate; obviously not perfect, because you’re two young adults dating each other in 2025. No one got perfect. You had your fights and then you got over it a day or two later.

Things changed when you hit your three month mark and Farris suggested that perhaps you two should move in together. You agreed. You’d talked about it before and you two seemed to have similar lifestyles that would blend together nicely in your everyday lives, so it should all fall into place nicely.

Issue? Well… Farris did not live like how he said whatsoever. He wasn’t clean. He wasn’t organized. At first, everything remained in order. His apartment was clean the first few days after you were finished unpacking your things, until you started noticing that the dishes were overflowing from the sink.

You thought it was odd, but figured maybe he just hadn’t had time to do them yet. He was a student, after all. It was kind of difficult to keep up with chores. You’d give him the benefit of the doubt for right now.

But then, the laundry started to pile up. The garbage started to overflow and trash was littering the floors of your apartment. You couldn’t believe you fell for this shit again.

Farris had you doing everything. He was exactly like your ex and exactly like the man before that ex. He was— what’s the word? Stupid? Slow? Useless, maybe? No, you’ve got a cuter word. A manchild.

Why does this always happen to you? It seems that no matter what you do, you always land yourself a manchild. It’s exhausting, really.

“Baby,” Farris coos as he comes home, a grin on his adorable little face. Why’s he gotta be so sexy if he’s so dumb? “What’s for dinner?”