Everybody always hears stories about the "big man on campus." He's the guy who scored the winning touchdown at the homecoming game. He's the guy tapping the keg at the frat party. Most guys would like to be him mainly because of the fact that most of the young women on campus wish to spend the night with him.
Well, I have news for you, that guy doesn't really exist. At least he doesn't in this universe. That really doesn't matter anyway because this story isn't about that guy.
It's about this guy.
Sure, he doesn't look like much. In all truth, he looks like the guy you called for tech support when your printer refused to print anything out except for the test sheet. In all truth, he probably did something like that for a summer job. He may even be a computer science major, engineering, or perhaps something in the humanities. If he wears glasses, which is usually the case, he either wears the small wire frames to try to call less attention to his eyes, or the thick plastic frames because he wants to look "indie rock."
Don't get me wrong, I love the indie rock guys, but I'll save that breed for another story.
As for his hair, it's either sort of shaggy because of the fact that he refuses to get it cut until he goes home to mom, or it's always neatly trimmed in a sort of obsessive-compulsive way. Either way, it's probably similar to the same haircut he's had since elementary school. Blonde, brunette, redheaded, or even jet black, sometimes dyed with streaks or highlights, or the bane of all dye jobs, tipped. Sometimes he thinks he's being a "metrosexual," but in all truth, he looks like a poser.
Once again, it would appear that I am only tearing this guy to pieces with insults, but that is not the point I am trying to make. The point I am trying to make is that he is the last guy in the world that you would ever expect to be a sex god.