Editor’s note: This article is a humor column.
To whatever soul finds this message intact,
My name is Sebastian Ghersi, and outside my door, there is a horde of suitors trying to break in. I fear these may be my final moments, and so, for the sake of posterity, I’ll share with you my tragic story.
The first thing you should know is that I go by many names. Friends call me Seb, my boxing coach calls me the Sebster, but most people call me Mr. Handsome. I am the University’s most eligible bachelor.
When you consider the facts, it only makes sense. I have a high-paying job as an underwear model, live in the penthouse apartment my dad gave me and, generally speaking, I’m just a Division I chiller. I even host bi-weekly meet-and-greets with my fans! At first glance, my life may seem like heaven. Unfortunately, it is anything but. The news scrutinizes my every move. Last April, a fan broke into my penthouse and shaved off all my hair to keep as memorabilia. Underneath the surface of my stunning good looks, being the University’s most eligible bachelor has taken a toll on me.
The depth of my misfortune is not easily understood, and I don’t expect someone like you — not Mr. Handsome — to get it. I’m aware that you know of me already, but for me to tell my true story, I’ll go ahead and explain the first of my scandals.
It was a cool fall day when Madelyn Cline burst into Bodo’s. Unbeknownst to me, she was in town to film season four of “Outer Banks” in Charlottesville.
As soon as she opened the front door of Bodo’s, she was awestruck. Though I was just doing my usual relaxing — eating a tub of plain cream cheese, reading “The Feminine Mystique” and writing poetry — my mysterious and nonchalant aura was enough to immediately put her in a trance. Lord knows how difficult it must have been for her to contain her excitement — most people can’t. Though sources have told me she constantly looked in my direction, she was too intimidated to say anything. We merely made eye contact on her way out.
She must have been devastated at the thought of never seeing me again. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. We found each other the next morning on the Lawn. She had just finished shooting a scene while I’d just wrapped up my first marathon of the day. When she found me, I was sobbing uncontrollably — I had just found out about period cramps. After she calmed me down, we talked for hours about everything under the sun. She happened to like Skate 3, TV Girl and Fight Club. Though I didn’t fancy her or find her attractive, I could tell she had at least minor chiller energy.
We ended up going on several dates before “the incident.” Though these outings were precious and entertaining, I never felt a spark. Nevertheless, because of our repeated interactions, the paparazzi caught the scent of a sweet story. They made sure to tail us on our next escapade.
Our following outing was at the fine dining establishment of Beijing Station. I noticed she was especially head-over-heels for me that day — I keenly picked up on it when she offered to get a refill of water. As we walked around underneath the scenic Charlottesville light pollution, she couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss.
Obviously, I turned away and swerved her. I pledge religious allegiance to the god of all men, Prince Philip, who would find extra-marital displays of affection despicable. No lovely lady can make me compromise my beliefs. Unfortunately for both of us, the sudden swerving awakened the beast from my stomach. I proceeded to projectile vomit my past three meals all over her.
The paparazzi did not care to know of the intricacies of the situation. They were there with cameras ready to capture the embarrassing moment. Cline’s PR team immediately mobilized to prevent the publication of the pictures. Though they were able to delete the images, the news had already spread like chlamydia on a co-ed sports team.
After I stationed my Beijing all over her, things were never the same. She couldn’t stand to see me around, and so the production of “Outer Banks” moved to North Carolina. The Charlottesville Economic Development Authority estimated that the City lost over $200,000 in tax revenue from my weak stomach.
Everywhere I went for the next month, not only were people mobbing me because of my stunning good looks, but many were also menacing me for harming the City of Charlottesville. Among the hundreds of bouquets left at my door every night, detractors left dead animals. My bi-weekly meet-and-greet was canceled twice in a row because of rioting by protesting townies and counter-protesting suitors.
I lived a life of no peace.
Thankfully, due to my incredible intelligence, I thought of a great solution. Choosing to forgo the monthly allowance my dad gives me, I donated $200,000 to the City for infrastructure improvements. Once word had spread of my good deed, it all settled down.
I hate to cut my stories short, but the horde of suitors knocking down my door has grown, and if I want to leave here alive, I’d better run.
With love for all ten thousand of my public admirers,
Sebastian “Mr. Handsome” Ghersi
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