The Goof lumbers through life with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. Every now and then he'll set your couch on fire or lose all your money during a weekend you had to spend in Vegas because a buddy of his there was selling him a Vespa. But he means well! And isn't the roller coaster ride of a friendship with this wildcard worth more than five thousand of your measly dollars?
Why they don't exist: You know who sets couches on fire and goes to Vegas at any point ever in real life? Sociopaths. Wildcards sure can be fun, but you'll forget all about that once their divorce storyline kicks in and they start hitting on your mom.
You were too busy rereading your ex's break up text again to see them coming, and spilled coffee all over their fancy work clothes they had dry cleaned SPECIFICALLY for the big meeting today.
Why they don't exist: Random public encounters sound awesome, but what you're forgetting is the sheer volume of awful weirdos roaming the streets at all times. The chances of happening upon a hip, together life partner on your way to work are as slim as that weird white-haired guy who hangs out in the subway entrance, points at you and screams the date of your death every morning.
Life is hard, even without all those optional things idiots do like going to the gym or grocery shopping or wearing underpants. That stuff's so boring! It's a good thing you've got a pal who LOVES doing this shit. He'll call you at 11:15 a.m. on a Sunday when, let's face it, you're just getting up, telling you to get your sneakers on because you're hitting the treadmill. You'll rattle off an excuse like you're tired or sick or a fallible human being with feelings and a conscience and reserve the right to control your own life. Then he'll laugh, call you something mean, and make you go anyway. Because that's what friends do.
Why they don't exist: Remember how hard it is to do all that stuff I said before? Imagine making ANOTHER WHOLE PERSON do that stuff. In movies, gyms are places where life truths are somehow shared between buds while at the same time they're running fast and long enough to get one of those all-back sweats going. In reality, you half-heartedly pedal alone on the exercise bike and mentally craft a passive-aggressive text to the guy who rightfully canceled on you.
Yes, you've already met them, but you never really appreciated them until you went home for that week to rediscover yourself. Sure, mom still worries a lot, and dad spends most of the time watching TV, but suddenly you find yourself connecting with them more than ever before. You discover there's more to them than the dudes you lived with for 18 years, and just before you leave they'll give you a big, long, wise speech about the person they know you are and can be.
Why they don't exist: By the time you've matured sufficiently to even entertain the concept of your parents as real human beings, they'll have matured sufficiently that it would be laughably foolish to imagine them being even the slightest bit invested in anything other than the "Next time on Homeland" trailer. They still love you and everything, but Brody's really in the thick of it right now and you're going to have to keep your voice down until 11, OK?