I love it when Details does stuff like this. It makes me gauge my doucheosity and the article is a blatant sign that the magazine itself may be the handbook of all that is douche worthy.

So while browsing through the bullet points that illustrate a “thoroughly modern douchebag,” I noticed that only a couple pertained to me:

#29: Moleskine – I have plenty. As a writer, I feel like I evoke the spirit of Hemingway whilst writing in Moleskine journals. That is definitely pretentious.

#33: You know this great little tapas place – I know of a couple. Does that give me extra points?

#40: You double-kiss – I am embarrassed to admit this. Really embarrassed.

#44: You photograph your food – What’s so bad about that? They are pictures that will make you salivate later. Consider it food porn.

#48: You strive to be shot by the Sartorialist – Now that I think of it, this is kind of pretentious. Not really douchey; just really desperate.

#56: You know the difference between skinny and stovepipe – It’s part of my job.

If this were an actual test, I would’ve scored low. Very low. Only 6 out of 63. It’s really surprising. I thought I would be a little bit more pretentious. A lot of my friends would be disappointed. They always count on me to be the resident snob of the group.

If I really want to reach the penultimate level of doucheness, I guess I have to start befriending lesbian chefs, listen to Grizzly Bear and host brunch more often. Perhaps I should even take holiday in Marfa and talk about how fantastic Marni is while tasting “notes” in my favorite beer. Afterwards, I can tell my personal trainer that I want to strengthen my core and then visit “my guy” at the cheese shop and tell him about a really good tailor and tapas restaurant.

Wow. Just by typing all of that I can feel Massengill bubbling through my pores.

According to the Internet’s deluded “for the people by the people” encyclopedia, Wikipedia, the wallet chain was initially worn by motorcyclists back in the day so that when they rode their bikes, they wouldn’t lose their wallets.

My how times have changed.

I am pretty sure the guys I saw were not motorcyclists. Unless motorcyclists fancy popped collared pink Polos and skinny jeans.

I admit – I jumped on the wallet chain bandwagon circa 2004. I had two. One was thick enough to restrain a Rottweiler. The other one was a lot more decorative (code for gayer) – it draped around my waist and might as well have been a belly chain.

I think I wore them a total of four times each before I realized I was a hardcore poser. In fact, I just clipped them on to my belt loops. It wasn’t even a wallet chain because there was no wallet to accommodate the chain. I have no idea what made me buy the chains to begin with.

Actually, I think – I THINK– I decided to try out the waist décolletage after seeing Justin Timberlake wear it in one of his videos. Wow. Did I just admit that?

Perhaps it’s time to retire the wallet chain. Unless you are a motorcyclist, rockstar, associate of a rockstar or even a janitor, maybe you should pass on the wallet chain. When it comes down to it, the wallet chain is a conch belt for men – and we all know that conch belts are for turquoise jewelry-clad soccer moms named Iris who pride themselves on their hefty collection of Southwestern art and Dreamcatchers.