Social dynamics have largely remained the same since the first group of Romans decided to single out their weakest homie for flaunting that F/W 202 B.C. toga praetexta like it was still hot come February 201 B.C. Throughout the history of time, people have always in one way or the other prescribed to the theory that your squad is only as fire as its weakest link. Somewhere in your team, there's always that one person who doesn't seem to get it. Whether they're manually RT-ing a certified platinum tweet or showing up to the BBQ with paper cups and potato salad, everyone knows that one guy in their group who literally confuses the popular Adidas sneaker for the popular gay English singer.
Each and every clique is home to the dude who throws up bricks like they're Josh Smith trying to do their best J.R. Smith. Like, throwing up so many fucking bricks that they could start a masonry company and have their sons inherit the family business because building houses with metaphorical mortar is innate. Never not completely fucking bricking it is one of the many arguments that prove social mobility is a myth. You can't just stop being a scrub. "My father was a struglord, as his father was before him. I come from a long line of struggling lords!" It's become clear that it may be close to scientifically impossible to escape the biological burden of bricking. For example, here are a few notable father and son duos who have been unable to step outside of their genetic inadequacies:
-George H.W. Bush and George W. Bush
-Goofy and Max
-Adam and Cain
-Jamie Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon
-Ivan the Terrible and Feodor I of Russia
-Bill Walton and Luke Walton
There's not a ton of shit one can do when they're firmly locked into a lifetime of servitude to the art of masonry. For starters, I would advise against procreating. You may be fine wearing Topman knockoff Common Projects, but why subject another human being to a life of such failure. The world is too judgmental and by time your kin is of age, for all we know, bricking a 'gram might actually be dangerous and detrimental to your health.
But this article isn't merely an admonishment of the unfortunately cinder-blocked amongst us as that would be as pointless and your existence. Instead, here are a few suggestions on how to cope with the heart-wrenching reality of being the person in your group of friends that straight up blows it at life:
1. Dispose Of Any And All Roshe Runs
While I personally disagree with Lawrence that Roshe Runs are dead, it's mostly denial because I can't afford Yohji Yamamoto. Also, Lawrence has a web show and propagated "tbh Twitter" diction. Also, I know this one guy who won $10,000 in Vegas and his first purchase was a pair of Rose Run from the Nike outlet and that really made me think that outlet shopping is for people like my Mom (shout out to my annual Banana Republic Factory Christmas quarter-zip) and brick layers of their respective squad.
2. Stop Showing Up Late To Brunch
There's a 15 minute window from when a group sits down to eat and the last possible moment you can invite someone to the table. Anything later than that and the dynamic of your meal is completely fucked up. While you and your team are pretending that it's cool that everyone splits the meal evenly, despite your boy getting three more mimosas more than you, the guy who texted you 25 minutes later saying that he's on his way even though you know he's still tying his shoes hasn't even gotten his bagel and lox.
3a. Set Your Fantasy Football Lineup
Jesus, man, there's at least a $500 purse in this 10 team league. The least you can do is take four seconds out of your Thursday afternoon to make sure you don't leave Stephen Gostkowski on your bench.
3b. Don't Draft Toby Gerhart In The Third Round
This will not endear you to your squad, who are already pretty bummed out they recruited you to their social group in the first place.
3c. Don't Play Fantasy Football
Holy shit, dude, don't play fantasy football. There's literally no other event as ubiquitous as fantasy, yet it's the least interesting thing to talk about. You're already struggling to bring engaging #content up at brunch, the last thing your friends want to hear about is how your team "Do The Sankey Leg" lost because of a Peyton Manning kneel down.
4. Prescreen Your Tweets
Your personal brand is sacred. As fire as a fire tweet is, it doesn't compare to the crushing embarrassment of a struggle tweet, forever alone without a single RT or favorite. Use your friends as a focus group. Hit up the group chat with a seemingly completely out ofcontext joke and see if it gets any love.
5. Drink A Lot Of Emergen-C
The bane of Blackbeard's crew was the fuccboi who contracted and spread scurvy around the ship. These days, staying healthy is becoming a much more precarious task. You're already the resident protagonist, don't make it worse by giving your friends ebola.
6. Don't Caption Your Instagrams With, "Going up on a Monday, Tuesday, et al"
This is just lazy 'gram construction. All summer, the biggest bricklayer of your squad responded to any and all queries with "yaaaas" for he has the uncanny ability to take anything even remotely relevant from the month prior and kill it with the same persistence as AraabMUZIK's production tag. If ruining slang is your superpower, stay away from quick-changing in phone booths.
Listen, life can be bleak for you, but your options are limited if you want to stay in your current platonic platoon. The last resort is defecting from your team and starting your own friend group of inferior coolness. Sure, this form of self-relegation will ensure that you'll always dominate the mid-major conferences, but, inevitably, never be able to compete against the SEC of social squads.
Nickolaus Sugai is the designated backup bricklayer of his squad. Follow him on Twitter here.
