I wouldn’t normally consider myself to be a “jealous guy” per-se, but I have to admit, when my girlfriend joined a Michael Cera Facebook fan club the other day, I started to become a bit skeptical.

If you don’t know who actor/musician/probably-painter Michael Cera is, then you’re most likely one of two things: A. a guy, or B. a woman who doesn’t have friends or watch television.

He was in Juno.

Remember now?

There was a time when individuals like myself could walk down the street and say, “Hey, you know what? Although I don’t look like George Clooney or act like James Dean, at least I can count on meeting some girl out there who might possibly be interested in a young awkward male with a less than stellar physique but a charmingly endearing personality.”

And then Michael Cera came along and flushed the burnt ashes of my dream away, right after he soiled them, along with the dreams of so many other awkward individuals.

Now that Michael Cera has made “awkward” into “somewhat cool,” guys like me aren’t cool enough to be awkward anymore. We have simply become sensitive geeks. Women love him for his stilted way with words and rounded cheeks. How are we supposed to compete with a man who doesn’t even have a chiseled jaw line like Brad Pitt?

The fact is, we can’t. Michael Cera has ruined us.

My suspicions concerning my girlfriend escalated when she gave me bright yellow short-shorts and a headband as a “gift.” I kept telling her I wasn’t even part of the running team, but my pleas were drowned in a torrent of tropical flavored Tic Tacs as she yelled, “This is one doodle that can’t be undid, home skillet!”

Cannot be undid indeed my friend. Michael Cera has doomed us all.

Something must be done. Michael Cera has undoubtedly monopolized the “awkward yet adorable” market, but that doesn’t mean we’re without hope. There are good, honest, socially inept people out there who will miss out on girls who take pity on them. Remember, all it takes for Michael Cera to thrive is for good men to do nothing. I cannot idly sit by whilst this injustice continues. Nobody, and I mean no one, has ever out-awkwarded myself.

If you don’t believe me, just ask the person who saw me poke my eye with a straw at dinner last night. If it means I have to eat a thousand Tic Tacs, or dip a million frozen bananas, I will outdo every filmed version of Michael Cera, or die trying.

I’m not about to be outdone by a Canadian actor – not again.

In time, perhaps my girlfriend will learn to love me for who I am; an individual slightly less geeky but much more awkward than Michael Cera. In the meantime I will wear my short-shorts with pride, in full knowledge that one day I will indeed surpass Michael Cera. Until that day comes you know where to find me. I run the Natalie Portman fan club.