Sagging Pants, Sagging Promises: Why Mr. Low-Rise Wasn’t Worth the Hype

There are two holidays scarier than Halloween: National Girlfriend Day and National Boyfriend Day. At least on Halloween, you know what kind of horrors are coming. But on National Boyfriend Day, I was blindsided by a ghost in sagging jeans—let’s call him Mr. Low-Rise.

Mr. Low-Rise had this habit, one I used to think was endearing in some ironic, boyish way. His pants always sagged so low, I wondered if he had a belt allergy. I assumed it was just his style. Now I see it as a reflection of his ability to commit—to pants, and to relationships.

So imagine my surprise when National Boyfriend Day rolled around, and who should pop up on his actual girlfriend’s feed but Mr. Low-Rise himself? There they were, all smiles while I sat there wondering how I missed the signs—his literal inability to hold it together should’ve been my first clue.

But here’s the thing: heartbreak, like low-rise jeans, doesn’t flatter anyone. It squeezes the hope right out of you. But as much as this hurt, I realized something important. You can’t elevate someone who isn’t even willing to pull up their own pants, let alone show up for you.

So to every girl who’s fallen for a Mr. Low-Rise, remember this: you deserve someone who will not only pull their weight but also pull up their pants. Someone who’s confident enough to stand tall, not slouch through life, hoping you’ll settle for less.

Thank you, Mr. Low-Rise. You’ve been a lesson in love and denim fails. While you’re figuring out how belts work, I’ll be out here raising my standards—and wearing belts.