Oh, Schmidt! If you’re not watching New Girl on Fox, then you’re missing out on one of TV’s best new characters: Schmidt.
If you’ve had more than five guy friends in your life, chances are you’ve known a Schmidt. Sure, perhaps his Bar Mitzvah theme was not Sports Jams, maybe he wasn’t even Jewish at all, and it’s a safe bet he probably wasn’t afraid of a cat raised by birds that lived on the roof of your building, but we’ve all known a douchey brohan with a heart of gold.
So, what makes a Schmidt, a Schmidt exactly? The Schmidt in your life will have a proclivity for shortening words in bizarre and somewhat adorable ways: a platter of sushi would be identified by such monikers as fatty tune, yellow T, and Cali rolls. A cardigan becomes a cardi, scrumptious becomes scrummy, totally equals totes.
Your Schmidt most likely refers to himself in third person at least once a day, and if possible, incorporates some aspect of his name into a catchphrase or slogan, such as: “Schmidt happens!” or “You got some Schmidt on your face!” or possibly “It’s time for your morning Schmidt.”
Your Schmidt don’t stink. In fact, he’s at least somewhat obsessed over his own personal appearance. In the summer he tans on your roof, and in the winter he goes to a tanning bed, but only because he has this skin thing, and keeping a good base-tan really helps it out. He’s probably attempted a colon cleanse, taken Bolivian diet pills, or used an FDA banned organ slimming supplement. He’s fit, and as a result feels the need to be shirtless as often as possible. Your Schmidt is always abreast of current fashion trends and possesses an overall good sense of style. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was constantly making aware his intention to hook up with everyone’s girlfriends, you may mistake him as gay.
In fact, your Schmidt may display a disconcerting lack of discomfort toward male nudity. Upon learning that all of his friends have seen his best friend naked, he may somehow feel entitled to see that friend naked. He may play it off as a joke, but a Schmidt is always aware of his ranking in regards to his friends, and he never wants to miss any experience that may create a unique bond, even if it’s awkward.
“What if he gets into an accident? What if he’s horribly disfigured, and I have to identify him, and all that remains are his private parts? I’m standing there, I’m saying, “Sorry, officer, I can’t help you, because no, I haven’t seen his penis.” An then boom, he’s buried in an unmarked grave.” – Schmidt
Your Schmidt probably appears to take himself pretty seriously, however, underneath all of his faux-suavity, self-interest, and womanizing behavior there stands a much simpler man. A fully grown man that lives with roommates, has a stupid job, and whose best friend won’t even let him see his penis.
And therein lies the thinly veiled secret of Schmidts the world over: despite their larger than life personalities, over the top theatrics, and blatant douche-baggery, they’re people just like you and me. They love their friends, have strained family relationships, wrestle with insecurities, etc. We love our Schmidty friends because, if we’re honest, they remind us a bit of ourselves.
After all, there’s a little piece of Schmidt in each of us.