Even though John Cusack was wearing striped shirts and boat shoes long before the Williamsburg set, he bore a personality and delicate neurosis that very few “men” in the borough (because Wburg is indeed its own borough) seem to possess. No one can adequately emulate his perfect blend of semi-frat boy and nebbish.
What is more, he’s the type of “man” who seems, on the surface, to be dickless because of his soft-spokenness and self-effacing nature, but it is in fact this very quality that makes him so fuckable. He’s the sort of bloke who will play you the saxophone, drive you to far off places and be there for you no matter what. There aren’t many of that sort inhabiting the Bedford L nexus.