That Guy You Know: An Open Love Letter To... Ilana Wexler Of "Broad City"

Disclaimer: You might want to watch Broad City before reading.

To my sweet Ilana,

I have just finished watching all 6 episodes of your amazing new series and I must say, I believe we are soul mates. The moment I watched you unashamedly pull a small baggie of weed out of your "va-hen-ya" I knew you were a woman who not only possessed the raw intelligence it takes to literally outsmart the diligent police force of NYC, but a type of resourcefulness that a lesser woman wouldn't have even thought of, causing them to simply put their weed in their purse or a lesser orifice. Never have I been so turned on by a woman nonchalantly leaving work and her responsibilities. You are a wild mare that simply cannot be tamed. The sight of you stealing your lame bosses office supplies drove me to a cold then simultaneously hot sweat. How I desperately wanted to be the calculator snuggled up against your braless (that's right, I've noticed) bosom.

Your confidence and sex appeal is unmatched as well my wonderful Wexler. Never before have I seen a girl wear what was described as "a napkin" to her place of work and rock it so hard that I not only want to set my table with it, but place my silverware all up on it. You reckless abandon makes my heart pound with desire. Your drive and willingness to do whatever it takes to get Lil' Wayne tickets is like a sexy beacon of light guiding the lost ship that is my desire to you. How I longed for you to awkwardly clean my apartment (in men's boxer briefs) as I watched from afar, probably doing some creepy stuff off camera.

But what I admire about you the most my sweet, fro haired, Jewish goddess, is your love for your best friend Abbi. Never before have I seen such a loyal friendship and never before has it gotten me so... So... Aroused. I will gladly go butt to butt with a male friend to perform the "Arch De Triumph" on you and Abbi if it is your hearts desire.

But perhaps this intense friendship is why our love could never work, let alone last. It's obvious that you are a free spirit floating in the wind, a spirit that only answers to one very cliché and racist depiction of a Native American Shaman who calls it when it needs some weed or someone to help them find their lost cell phone after a crazy night at some shitty dive bar. And that Shaman is Abbi and I fully respect that relationship.

So it is here where I will let you go my dazzlingly daring and divine deity. Go. Be with Abbi, for she makes you whole. Makes you who you are. Make you Ilana.