Hey Doc,

I’ve been seeing this one girl lately. It’s kinda new for me — kinda the first time I’ve caught feelings for someone in years. I really can’t get enough of her — we connect so well, on so many levels. It’s like someone went through my internet history and constructed the perfect woman — absolutely unreal. Obviously, I love everything about her as a person … but, obviously, there’s a complication. 

She’s a very … artistic person. At first that just meant walking around downtown with film cameras and making vaporware playlists for each other based on astrological compatibility, and I was really into it. But then she invited me over to her place and … it’s not ideal. It seems like her carefree artistic spirit applies to all aspects of her life, so her room looks less “2013 Tumblr” and more “Crustpunk Crack Den.” 

There’s more paint on her mirror than actual reflective surface, she’s named the mice under her bed after existentialist thinkers (I almost stepped on Nietzsche the other day … she wrote a song about it), and every time I come over I need to clear a path just to avoid stepping on half-empty Red Bull cans and hemp-cigarette butts. The breaking point was when I got into her bed — it was full of sand? And for some reason she said that she liked it like that? 

I only stuck around for a few hours and haven’t texted her since. That was two days ago. What do you think? Cut my losses and move on? Hire a biohazard team to clean out her room? I don’t want this to be a deal breaker … 

Sincerely,

Crustpunk Crisis

Dear Crustpunk Crisis,

I mean … devotion to the aesthetic. If you really like this girl so much, you embrace the vision. (But seriously, sand?! How does that not kill the mood?!)

She’s probably not going to change because of you, sorry. You can hire a cleaning team all you want, or you could spend the money on more hemp cigarettes and live the lifestyle. Or, instead of crashing at hers, just have her come over more often. Maybe your cleanliness will inspire her to try using a vacuum, and instead of getting her into bed, teach her how to make one?

Sincerely,

Dr. Date