He gazes out over the vast urban landscape he calls home and sighs. Bending over to tie his RedWing boot's shoelace he thinks of what might have been. He should've followed Jennifer out to Montana that cool fall day. But alas, all he has left are his plaid shirts and struggling beard. Standing up and adjusting his man purse, he continues on. His lunch isn't going to post itself on Instagram. He is the Lumbersexual.