Cole -- or should we call him by his true name, "Lying Despicable Utter Asshat" DeVries -- raised my suspicions the minute he got called up to the Twins, last season. In his Twins head photo, he wore glasses. Cool, geometrically badass, straight-frame-on-the-top yet seductively-curved-on-the bottom eyeglasses. But he didn't wear them in games. That was a dead damn giveaway; what we have here, what's been unleashed upon us, is the most dangerous player in Twins history.
"Girls/guys don't make passes at guys/girls who wear glasses." This is an axiom, and utterly wrong. Many guys/girls make those passes, many don't. Glasses signify, to idiots, that the wearer is smarter than your average bear. Celebrities sometimes wear fake glasses with no prescriptions on talk shows to seem, like, more interlektuul and stuff. If you wear glasses, some people will find you attractive and some won't; it's not worth worrying about.
Unless you're competing with those who can wear/not wear glasses on their whim. These are horrible people, with moderate vision correction needs, who deserve immediate disemboweling. (Anyone who wears contacts falls into the same category.) They can go all smarty-pants or dumb-jock/blonde with a flick of the lenses case; as such, they have an unfair advantage over the rest of us.
Cole "Lying Asshat" DeVries multiplied this "do I/don't I" effect with his status as a Twins pitcher. He hung around the fringe. Was he a major leaguer, like the kind of dude partners saddle up with in the hope of getting big-buck boyfriend benefits -- or was he a dreamer who could never quite make the big time, appealing to sensitive sympathetic souls? Who knew?
Well, I'm here to tell you, this is no accident. The man wants it all; he's positioned himself carefully to make it out from every angle imaginable. Cole DeVries is, in short, a player.
Don't be off your guard. That's exactly what Cole wants. He's coming for your partners, if he hasn't seduced or teasingly tantalized them already. Doubt me? Here's the proof.
If you're married, DeVries will promise every possibility of erotic/emotional satisfaction your SO fails to provide. He's an admirable adult role model, yet will regularly forget to pick up your kids from soccer practice; still, when you get mad at this, you'll remember that day where he convinced them to think a Periodic Table was really cool. He'll pay attention to your physical needs, except when he doesn't -- and, somehow, that will always be your fault.
If you're single, Cole will expose you to an exciting, vibrant social life, while curiously failing at introducing you to any of his friends. He'll drop hints about marriage and/or moving in together, but detonate the "too much pressure" bomb if you ever pursue the matter. He'll take romantic trips with you, then bitch about them constantly. He'll smooth up to one of your parents and incessantly disparage the other.
CdV is an awesome cook, and gets angry if you ask him to make your favorite food more than once; "what am I, your personal chef?" He sings well yet won't join your buddies for karaoke. He'll read/watch everything you do then ridicule your enjoyment of it. He's always available to talk to on the phone or social networks when you need him, except "dammit, why can't you let me have some space!"
I've already lost fifteen Twins players and/or front office personnel to the sheer magnetism, the utter duplicity of that infernal, confounded asshat Cole DeVries. Don't let this happen to you.