Imagine you meet someone. She’s great looking, is smart and educated, has a great job, loves sex. You take her to meet your parents and they fall in love harder than you do. So, you ask her to marry you and, congratulations, she says yes! On the wedding night to slip into the covers and she’s asleep. Ok. It was a long and exciting day. Except the next day she’s upset with you, but you don’t know what you did wrong. Suddenly, it’s a problem if you want to hang out with your friends. You have sex, sometimes, but it’s used as a weapon to manipulate you. Post coitus you feel terrible. Every time. When your dad falls ill, she skips the trip to the hospital. Your family and friends are too nervous to say anything about her, but they wear their disappointment and sadness on their faces. You’re scrolling through your photo roll on your phone one night, trying to find times where you two were happy and you notice, for the first time, that she’s got a lazy eye, hairs sprouting from odd locations on her face, a wart the size of a dime at the end of her nose. You think you’ve been under a spell. One day, after you refuse to scrub the floors because she’s sure you’re lying about having done it the day before, even though she was there, she says “we should have a baby.” You run. You run and don’t look back. Years pass. You’ve moved on. You’re happy. Things are working out. Then you see it on social media. It’s her. She’s beautiful. They way you thought she was years ago. She’s back with her ex and they both look so happy. It’s a wedding engagement photo. They and their parents couldn’t be happier. And the first comment under the post is from her sister saying she’s so happy she found her true love and that she doesn’t have to be with someone who’s emotionally unavailable and has a hamster dick.

That’s what Al Horford is like.