My brother recently bought a house in the rural outskirts of his city, and apparently it’s a real fixer-upper, but that’s always been the kind of thing he loves doing. So he has a truck now (to haul stuff for all the repairs he’s doing on the house). He’s already fond of flannel. He bakes his own bread.
And now a cat has turned up, so he has a cat.
With Christmas rapidly approaching, it’s dawning on me that my own brother is, in fact, Hallmark Christmas Movie Small Town Man.
If he shows up to Christmas dinner with a bewildered hedge fund manager who got stranded in his town and fell in love with him over an ice sculpture carving competition or some shit, I’m gonna have to stage an intervention.
god forbid men do anything