What Your Favorite Cheese Says About Your Personality
You walk in and scan the room.
Old friends and a few strangers are scattered around the living room.
You take a moment to congratulate yourself for even showing up. This is farthest uptown than you've ever been, and you have two unwatched episodes of "This Is Us" you still want to get to.
But you've chosen to be social and enjoy your youth, instead of weeping alone on a Friday. Cool!
Oh good, Kat's here. She can try to explain what it means that she “works for the city” for the 14th time.
Wow, Brad, you haven't seen him since college. He got kind of hot. You stop and say hi to Jeff.
How's your dog? Still dating that girl from the Philippines? Neat!
Then, you see it sitting so casually on the counter that divides the living space and the minuscule kitchen.
Its confidence approaches cocky, knowing it doesn't even have to try. You'll be all over it.
You're drawn like a magnet. Enough is enough.
You make a beeline, dodging Rebecca. This is no time to talk about Coachella! Maybe you'll get tickets; maybe you won't! It's a big commitment!
In what feels like days, you arrive. Relief floods your body. You've found your purpose at this — and all — social engagements: the cheese plate.
It's beautiful. She must have gone to that new “artisanal” place. Wow, charcuterie?
You instantly wish you'd brought a better bottle of wine. Whatever.
The cheese you choose tells the world who you are at this party. It says why you're here and the purpose you serve.
It's a big decision, but don't freak out. Relax, and let the song in your stomach lead the way.
You classy bitch. Is it baked? Does it matter?
Either way, it's the finest of the finest for you, angel.
Who doesn't like you? No one. You're refined. You can chat politics as easily as reality TV trash.
You're the center of this party, the anchor of it all. Pear slices? Come on.
You're effortless, and we all can't help but love you.
You have been to Europe, and you will tell us about it... again. But we like it!
You're a bohemian breath of fresh air. You're probably wearing some flowy thing you got in The Netherlands that we can't ask about because it will lead to another story.
No one wants to hear that. We just want to enjoy you (maybe mixed with cranberry or some garlic and herbs).
You did all the right things. You're responsible. You got a degree and are actually using it.
Wow! My mom would love me to settle down with you. You'd make a great dad.
You're stable, solid and reliable. You're the dentist of cheeses, a good provider.
We'd have a beautiful life together, if I didn't find you so boring. There's just more exciting cheese at this party.
You are the effing coolest.
People love you or hate you, and you couldn't care less. You're just being you.
You're here to make a statement, and it gets bolder as the night goes on.
Not everyone can handle it, but you don't want them, anyway. You're more of a cult following.
But even your haters know the party's not the same without you.
What are you even doing here, you drunk? Who invited you?
Put your pants back on, and get off the table. It's not that kind of party.
There's a time and a place for you, and it's not now. I know you're having fun, but you're embarrassing yourself.
...OK yeah, take my number, and let's meet up later. That after-hours spot sounds dope.