11 reasons why I'm a Ross Geller
Thanks to Netflix, I’ve rekindled quite the flame with my six favorite New Yorkers, the characters of Friends, over the last few months. While I don’t appreciate Netflix’s judgy “Are you still watching this show?” after only three episodes (Three episodes is not enough, Netflix. NOT ENOUGH.), I can appreciate all I have learned about myself by singing a little “I’ll be there for yoooooou” and thinking, “I could really use a duck and a chick, too.”
The funny thing is, I don’t see myself in too many of the women on the show. Don’t get me wrong: I love Monica’s neurotic neat freak thing, Phoebe’s penchant for bangles, and the high maintenance but super-sweet Rachel.
But some of us women can’t really connect with those female characters, you guys. Some of us… well. Some of us are Chandlers and Joeys and… yes. Some of us are even a bit Ross-y. Here are eleven reasons why I’m a Ross Gellar, and you might be one too.
No matter how many times love kicks us down, we get back up again and again. And again. Aaaand again.
Look, no one’s heart is more resilient than Ross Geller’s. The man had three failed marriages before finally winning back the girl of his dreams and never, ever gave up on love. Okay… really, he just never gave up on Rachel, but there’s something to be said for that, you guys! Lobsters and all, you know.
He’s the tiniest bit dorky. And by tiniest, we mean HUGEST
One of the best things about Ross is that he’s adorably dorky in the best way and takes the heat from his friends with effortless grace. …well. Maybe not effortless grace. More like effortless complaining, but STILL.
A sandwich was once the only good thing in his life.
I mean… well. I’m not going to elaborate, but BEEN THERE.
I’m fine. I’m TOTALLY FINE (even though obviously I’m not)
You know those moments in life (AND THERE ARE MANY) where you’re not only desperately trying to convince everyone else that you’re fine, but also yourself? Well. Such a Ross Geller move screaming “I’M FINE! I’m fiiiiiine!” when you are anything BUT.
I’m kiiiind of a chicken
I could say that I’m a “safety first” kind of person or that I don’t believe in being carefree and a little reckless, but that’s a lie. I’m just a huge chicken in certain situations.
Ross: Yeeeeeep… Yep-yep-yep-yep-yep. I remember when she took me out on her dad’s boat she wouldn’t let me help at all.
Rachel: Excuse me, I wanted you to help, but you couldn’t move your arms because you were wearing three life jackets.
Ross: You have to respect the sea.
I’m terrible at flirting. Terrible.
Remember the episode with the super cute pizza delivery girl?
Ross: Actually, I like eight year old boys.
Pizza girl: What?
Ross: No! No no! Your hair. You said that it looks like an eight year old boy’s and I’m just saying that I like it.
Pizza girl: Okay. Thanks.
Ross: You understand that I don’t actually *like* eight year old boys?
Ross: Hey, uh, you know that smell gas has? They put that in. The gas is odorless, but they add the smell so you know when there’s a leak. A lot of other gas smells. Methane smells.
The sad thing? I’ve done worst flirting.
I can’t wear leather pants either.
I once had a pair of purple pleather pants that I wore at least once a week in middle school. I can remember trying to pull them on after a sweaty day in gym and thinking I was going to die right there in the locker room, alone and sweaty, with those pants only halfway up my shins. Leather pants… can we just ban those already?
I also dressed up as an old lady and hosted tea parties when I was little.
I didn’t ask anyone to call me Bea though.
I’m incredibly close with my younger sibling.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to convince my younger brother to create a dance routine with me, but… oh yeah. I totally can.
I have also ruined myself with a spray tan AND teeth whitening strips.
I once fell asleep wearing a teeth whitening strip that was only meant to be on for an hour. I also made it look like my hands had been replaced with Oompa Loompa limbs thanks to using self-tanner on my legs. (My legs also looked like I had dripped mud down them from three feet high, but let’s not go there.)
I can be a bit of an annoying grammar stickler
Well. Enough said, yeah?
Please tell me I’m not the only one who sometimes represents the whiniest member of our favorite Manhattan bunch. We don’t have to split hairs on the whole “We were on a break” debate, but if your failed relationships are a point of humor with your friends, well then! Solidarity, sister.
(Images via , 6)