It's no secret that the Head Betches at Betches Love this are all knowing, powerful, and always fucking right…but sometimes lacking a penis limits our perspective on the greater aspects of life and complicated issues like, What exactly constitutes deep throating and, is it ever okay to date a guy with a 5 figure salary?
With that we bring you a new section written by our very own resident Pro, who we semi-poached from AskMen.com. Tired of the same amazing advice from The Betches every Sunday? Feel free to Ask A Bro. Send your emails to HeadPro@betcheslovethis.com and find out why he's just not that into you from a guy who's shadier than Brad Pitt circa 2005, has very bad intentions, and his very own dick.
With that, here's our new Head Bro, and don't forget to follow him on Twitter @betchesheadpro
If there’s one thing bros are good at (and there isn’t; the list is endless), it’s talking betches into fucking them. If there’s one thing betches are good at it’s… I don’t know, the ability to make an exit the next morning without fucking waking me up?
Anyhow, in college, it’s pretty easy for betches to judge bros, as the best ones are either in the right fraternity or on the lacrosse team (if you have daddy issues/rape fantasies). Sadly, after spending the better part of a decade getting betches into bed by asking if they’d like to “see your fish tank,” something awful on par with the fucking holocaust happens:
Bros have to get fucking jobs.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that betches don’t do work, because that means when I text you at 1AM on a Tuesday to ask “want 2 hasng out laetr? ;)”, you don’t have work as an excuse to resist such an eloquent overture. Unfortunately for betches, not doing work means you don’t know shit about it, and that means you’re only a vodka soda and some vague talk about “finance sounding things” away from waking up to some joker scurrying off to a job that requires a fucking nametag.
Though we don’t always show it, an atrocity like female circumcision or a hot betch fucking an accountant, is something that stirs a bro’s soul. Open up betches, because I’m about to mama bird the shit out of you. Let’s take a look at which bros are worth granting the privilege of being with a betch who’s anorexic enough to still shop at Abercrombie (without the Fitch)…if that brand wasn’t a blemish on the face of society.
These are the guys that make all but the most secure betch wonder if she’s even good enough. If you land one of these, count yourself lucky (just don’t let them know that).
Finance – I’m lumping in all the bros who work in investment banking, sales and trading, research, and private equity/hedge funds/venture capital, because let’s be honest betches don’t have the fucking attention span to learn the difference.
Why You Want Them: The dollars. Expect him to be as fashion-obsessed as a man can be without being gay and to take you to some legit hotspots because once finance has crushed your soul, you (rightfully) assume that girls will only fuck you because you have money.
Why You Might Get Fucked: It turns out that no 23 year-old bro, no matter how good his Ivy League education, is worth $180k per year, so they make them work the equivalent of three jobs. Also, keep your ears open for anyone who pronounces it “finnance”. If you hear this, congratulations, you’re dating a real life Patrick fucking Bateman, and I’m not saying that to mean a young Christian Bale.
Consulting – Consultants describe themselves as problem-solvers who swoop in to help companies solve their greatest business challenges. What they really mean is that their liberal arts degrees prevented them from getting into finance, and clients hope that paying their firm to come in and work as really expensive interns will bump up their stock price a few eighths of a fucking point.
Why You Want Them: Ah, the life of a consultant. Jetting off to exotic locales (or bumfuck Nebraska), having all of your expenses paid, and making your clients feel like fucking idiots on a regular basis. Plus, all that travel adds up to a metric shit ton of frequent flier miles that he can use to take you on trips, which marks the first and only time that paying with a coupon legitimately passes as a status symbol.
Why You Might Get Fucked: The nature of his job means he’s almost never in the same city you are. If he’s got the goods to get your attention, odds are he literally has ho’s in different area codes.
The Low-Hanging Fruit:
Could you do better than these guys? Of course you fucking couldn’t, because the very act of stooping to this level means that you settle faster than Odwalla juice when mixed with vodka. Still, at least they had to go to college (I think).
Law – If I said you signed a beautiful arbitration clause when you were blackout, would you hold the date-rape against me?
Why You Want Them: To be fair, big time corporate lawyers can make a shitload of money. Bankers and consultants love their lawyers, because they exist to rubber-stamp whatever bullshit they try to pass off as work on their clients. Never mind that three years of law school means he’s pushing 30 and working first year banker hours for less money, because next time you get a public intoxication charge you know who to call.
Why You Might Get Fucked: Two words: Public Defender. Welcome to dating a guy with crushing debt, no income, and an unflappable belief that poor people deserve a voice. If you’re having trouble adapting to bulimia, this ought to help.
Accounting – Accounting is the absolute bottom rung of the professional services world. They neither work enough hours to feel entitled nor enjoy enough perks to flippantly fly down to Argentina for a weekend.
Why You Want Them: Ummm… I really don’t know. If I wanted to hang out with people who stood over my shoulder checking my arithmetic all day, I’d go back to the fucking third grade.
Why You Might Get Fucked: Other than “There’s no accounting for how my dick is so large, given that I’m white”, not once has a sentence using the word “accounting” gotten even the most desperate betch to lie about being on the pill. Here’s a tip girls: If a guy works in a field that your dad can hire on an hourly basis (be it law, accounting, or fucking gardening), he’s not worth wasting an OTC Plan B on.
The Untouchable Caste:
Guys in this category don’t deserve a fucking breakdown, because you’d need to have one to even consider fucking them. Still, I’ll give you a little cheat sheet to keep in the back pocket of your J-Brands:
– Anyone in customer service: Like being a public defender without the law school pedigree – Actor/musician/artist/writer: All euphemisms for unemployed – Working “in industry”: A 50/50 shot. His dad’s an oil/telecom/media mogul? Welcome to the Lucky Sperm Club. He had to interview for his job? Welcome to fucking an accountant who couldn’t even cut it at an accounting firm. – Construction/Mechanic or any other manual labor: Exception – if you just got dumped by a pro with an office job and want a guy who will make him feel like less of a man.
So remember betches, the only way you should judge a pro by his cover is whether or not he has to pay any. Check out his business card instead.