Don’t Worry, Nerds and Church Boys — She’ll Call You After His Fifth DUI

Let’s pour one out. No, not for me. I’m fine. I’m thriving. I’m currently eating cold ramen out of a pot while wearing a "Han Shot First" shirt, and frankly, I’ve never been happier.

No, I feel bad for you. Specifically, you two demographics: The Dungeons & Dragons nerds with the emotional intelligence of a golden retriever, and the Christian dudes saving themselves for marriage while playing acoustic guitar at youth group.

Because apparently, in the great Bumble swiperoo, y'all are the backup plan.

Let’s set the scene. She spent her 20s chasing "tall, dark, and emotionally unavailable." You know the type. Tattooed knuckles, a vape always in hand, texts back "K" after three days. When that guy inevitably turns out to be a walking red flag who borrows money for "crypto," where does she run?

To you, Steve from IT who has a 401(k) and a firmly held belief that The Lord of the Rings extended cuts are the pinnacle of cinema.

To you, Brother Caleb, who has a steady job, respects his mother, and actually thinks "purity" is a vibe.

You are not the main character. You are the Emergency Ripcord. The human equivalent of a spare tire. You’re the "I guess he’ll do" after the "bad boys" have turned her life into a dumpster fire.

And the hilarious part? I’m not even the best looking guy in the room. I look like a stick figure drawn by a tired toddler. But I’d rather be single.

I mean it. I would rather sit in a dark room leveling up my mage while listening to video game soundtracks than be the placeholder.

Because here’s where the theology gets spicy, right? You hear the church ladies say, "God has a plan for your love life."

Yeah. He does.

God has natural selection for the demons.

You see a pretty girl with baggage? God sees a biological hazard. Darwin called it survival of the fittest, but I call it divine spam filtration. Those "demons" (you know, the ones who "aren't ready for a label") aren't being punished. They’re being filtered. They run on chaos energy. Eventually, the algorithm deletes them.

Which brings me to the nerds.

"Oh, you mean dorks?" Yes. Dorks. Us.

Here’s the secret the hookup culture doesn't want you to know: Us nerds know the game. We spent our teenage years memorizing the stats on a Magic: The Gathering card. You think we can't calculate the exact percentage of your "I’m not like other girls" routine?

We see the spreadsheet. We see the "roster." We see you trying to "settle" for us after the cool guy ghosted you.

Sorry, sweetheart. My Xbox isn't a consolation prize. My faith isn't a rehab center for your poor life choices.

I’m a Christian, sure. But I’m also a pragmatist. I tap, I go. (Wait, that sounds bad. I mean I assess the situation, realize I’m the backup quarterback, and I leave the stadium.)

I don’t have time to be your emotional support animal while you "figure out what you want."

So keep the "bad boys." Keep the chaos. I’ll be over here, single, sarcastic, and surprisingly okay with dying alone as long as I don't have to listen to you complain about why the toxic guy didn't call you back.

Stay nerdy. Stay holy. And for the love of God, don't be the safety school.