In almost every way, I’m the opposite of Steve.

I’m reasonably successful (decent job in IT, which also makes people think I’m crazy smart for some reason: I am not). I own a nice living space. I’m reasonably strong. I am not socially awkward: I can talk to almost anyone about almost anything because I ask a lot of questions (I talk to a mech eng about his job all the time, I don’t get it at all), which makes people think I’m interesting (I’m one of the most boring MFers you’ll ever meet, imo). And, to the point of the question, I can sing the fuck out of things in my range (mostly the standards: Sinatra, Martin, et al., but also some stuff like Elliott Smith, the absolute love of my musical life).

Here’s the problem: no one cares about what talents might exist under your crippling depression (because really, most people don’t care about anything until it’s gone). You can’t even show what you’re capable of doing when you spend most days terrified of getting out of bed. No one cares what you might have to offer when you have no self-esteem (more accurately, a negative self-esteem).

Steve has no confidence (negative self-esteem); ergo, he gets no ass. Me? I get very little anymore. And most of the chicks who wanna get down do not meet my standards (which aren’t even that high! I just don’t want 350lb girls, but that’s what I’m attracting these days. Big yikes).

Too detailed an answer for a silly question about American Dad? Absolutely. But the fuck else am I gonna do at 3 am?