my roommate and i walked back from a restaurant and began talking. this felt like one of those talks he always does where he likes to talk to me to kind of understand how to categorize my intelligence and compare it to his. on the surface, it looks like we’re just having a conversation but the expressions on his face show he’s actually trying to compare himself to me. he began by asking me a simple question:

“what’s your -ology?”

i’ve never heard of that type of question so he explained it more:

“you know, like philosophy? psychology? biology? that kind of thing”

i lied and said philosophy and he saw right through me. little did i know i was talking to the guy who quite literally has a giant plato book on our shared living room table and actively talks about how much he loves plato. granted, i should have seen this coming, given the fact his bumble profile said that he was looking for a woman he could “have intelligent conversations about plato and other philosophical concepts” and told me that normal women bore him when they talk about shoes.

“so you don’t really know plato?”

i mentioned that i knew a little plato, from what i’ve heard from my college classes, but i’m not really a plato kind of guy.

“not that i think plato is boring, i just never had the opportunity to really read into it”

(complete lie, fucking hate philosophy)

i then said i like psychology.

“so nature vs nurture?”

for some reason, my mind drew an immediate blank. this is one of those times where a smart person gives me a word that for some reason my internal britannica fails to look up. i knew the word nuture, i knew it. i could spell it. i could use it in a sentence! but in that moment, my brain immediately shut off trying to understand it.

we talked it out and eventually landed on the conclusion i was on the nature side, but we would continuously have these talks over and over.

each and every time we spoke he felt as if he had to test whether or not i was actually intelligent, as he didn’t believe that i was.

a few months later we hung out with his little brother at a steakhouse for his 18th birthday (21st if you asked why he had a cocktail) and my roommate casually said “well, at least i’m not a dick when i drink” to which i started laughing.

“Anthony.”

i gave him a look in his eye as i figured he knew exactly what i was talking about. i remembered that night clearly and we even spoke about how he remembered everything up until the end of the night.

“you’re fucking with me. you’re fucking with me. you’re obviously fucking with me.” (to his brother) “he’s fucking with me.”

“i’m not fucking with you, [redacted]. you were a complete dick to me when we were last here.”

“Anthony. you’re fucking with me.”