Previously in this series.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d have perfect facial hair that makes him look perpetually, endearingly scruffy, but would never be prickly when you make out.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d wear his t-shirts to peak softness, then immediately hand them off to you to wear for lounging or to bed.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, that cliché about him loving you best with no makeup and threadbare sweats on would actually be true, but he’d never begrudge you when you want to spend an extra 30 minutes figuring out how to tightline your eyes or curl your hair with a straightening iron. You, on the other hand, would be a little annoyed every time he’s ready to go out in 30 seconds by mussing his hair a little and grinning at himself in the mirror.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, it would be totally cool that your preferred outdoor activities were limited to: watching other people play sports, leisurely bike rides on vintage cruisers, reading paperbacks on the beach, and the occasional friendly game of tennis.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d introduce you to Amy Poehler as “the smartest woman I know.” Then she’d put you in charge of letting her know all the women debut authors she should be reading.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d deal with the neighbors with the thumping bass/repetitive blaring alarm clock/ lonely barking dog. He’d be so charming that they’d smile and pat themselves on the back as they turn down the stereo/skip the snooze button/hire a dog walker.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, you’d move to an adorable midcentury bungalow in Southern California. He’d say, “Whatever you want, babe” when you dig out one of your original-era Domino magazines and suggest yet another home décor change.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d understand that you love superhero movies and television shows because of their reassuringly formulaic stories of good versus evil and their charismatic heroes and antiheroes. He wouldn’t judge when you get the characters’ comic book backstories mixed up.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, his biological clock would be ticking. He’d do things like make goofy faces at the baby at the next table at brunch and help moms fit their double stroller through doorways. He’d say that he hoped your babies had your brain and his goofy sense of humor. You’d groan and say, “Great, even more fart jokes,” but then smile a little and mumble, “Someday.”
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he wouldn’t act superior about his exercise and diet regimen when he’s preparing for a role, but his habits would subtly rub off and you’d find yourself stronger and fitter than ever. That said, if Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d encourage you to order dessert every time, because he knows life is just better when you’ve had cake.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d respect that you are just as diehard about your sports teams as he is, and you’d have a hard-and-fast rule than anything said in the heat of the moment when your teams play each other is never spoken of again post-game. (Eventually he’d have to acquiesce that Chicago is the best sports town.)
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he wouldn’t roll his eyes when you ask him to reenact the scene from Everwood when Bright locks Hannah in the bathroom and tells her all the things that make her more beautiful than all the cool girls she compares herself to. Of course, you’ll have to end each reenactment by inviting him in the shower, you know, to stick to the canon.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d earnestly agree with you that your collarbone was your sexiest feature, but give you that innocent-puppy look when you catch him checking out your boobs or butt.
If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d totally get your occasional cat-like tendency to want to simply coexist at home without interacting. He’d know just the moment to give you a little nudge and suggest the adventure you never knew you wanted.
