The Five Guys You’ll Date from Fort Collins

He's the take-home-to-Mom all-American boy. He's got a Golden Retriever, a small SUV and loves to hit up New Belgium after he gets off work at the OtterBox call center.

Even though he's got a stable 9-5, his weekends belong to him and the great outdoors. He's an experienced fourteener hiker, and nothing can get between him and his mountain bike, camping gear and kayak.

That's right, nothing. Not even you. Which is why he'll end up dumping you for that MILF, Mother Nature.

Sure, he's got a car, but somehow the only four wheels you see him with are on the bottom of his longboard. He's got a strict Alpha Tau Omega dress code of Sperrys, a snapback and those neon sunglasses they hand out for free at Ram Welcome.

He's emotionally invested in CSU Confessions and typically only dates girls named Britney, Ashley and Jessica. One night, when you're looking for a confidence boost in the Rec Room, he'll use the 'You're not like other girls I know,' line on you. You'll have had just enough alcohol to momentarily see past his incalculable douchiness, and the fact that he thinks that EDM is real music, and make out with him.

He'll ask for your number. You'll give him the digits to the Thai Pepper, which you've memorized from your takeout orders. You never want to be reminded of what just happened.

He's established, mature and even though he wears a backpack to work, let's be real, his income makes up for that. He fulfills every fantasy you ever had about the Geek Squad at Best Buy.

You love how genuine he is, and you admire his intelligence and ability to back up a hard drive (if you know what I mean). When his friends at All That and a Bag of Chips find out he's seeing you, they think you're a mythical goddess.

He's husband material. But, at the end of the day, you just can't get past the fact that he works with your dad.

His facial hair is his identity, and he's got a medicine cabinet full of oils to keep it smooth. He takes pride in his collection of sportcoats with elbow patches and his vintage Royal typewriter. Fun fact: he's actually the scene guy you went to high school with in 2007 that liked screamo and really tight jeans, just grown up.

Now, he's into poetry and hanging out at the Bean Cycle. Oh, and putting oil in his beard.

Let's face it, you will never be his top priority. But it kind of sucked to make out with him anyway.

Radio girls know him well. You love him for his leather jacket and tattoos, and his band is kind of good. You read about them in Scene Magazine once. You'll meet him at Trailhead after one of his gigs and hear wedding bells instantly.

He'll text you regularly for a couple of weeks and make you the best mix tape you've ever gotten. But, don't go picking out a white dress and re-hyphenating your last name just yet.

His texts soon become more intermittent, until he only pops up in your Facebook chat once a month to send you a mass copy-and-pasted 'Hey, check out my band!' message.

Then, you realize: This was never about you. This was about his new EP. And you never see him again.