boring boyfriend ivan provorov is peeking over your shoulder. "what are you up to?" he asks. "setting up a twitter account," you say. "help me with the first tweet." he ponders, tapping his chin. "you should tell a joke," he says proudly. "like: 'is this thing on?'"

“these fucking texts,” you say angrily, deleting the reminders from your messages. boring boyfriend ivan provorov rests his head on your shoulder and pats you on the knee. “if it gets more people to exercise their civic duty,” he says, “its a good thing.” “bite me,” you say.

“are you planning on doing any shopping on black friday?” you ask, perusing the flyers. “i finished shopping for gifts a month ago,” ivan says, smiling, and he crosses his arms. “you’re kinda late, huh?” it is november 7th. “yes,” you say, “i suppose i am.”

boring boyfriend ivan provorov is your date to a wedding. “should i smile?” he asks during a picture. “it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “you’re fine.” “i feel like i should smile,” he says. “do whatever feels comfortable,” you say, and he comes closer. smiles.

boring boyfriend ivan provorov has had a tough time of it lately, which is why it makes you extra happy when he scores. "that was a beautiful goal," you say. "thank you," he says. "i like scoring goals." "yeah, i bet."

boring bf ivan provorov sits next to you on the couch. "its superbowl sunday," he says. "are u watching the game?" "i would prefer to eat my toenails," u say. "fair enough," he says. "bobs burgers?" "yes, moron," u say. then he brings u queso. much better than toenails