I Don't Wike It: The Cliches and Sterotypes of Wattpad

Jerk Billionaire with the Heart (and Mansion) of Gold

So you're walking down the street and ——

Someone throws a tomato at you!

Okay, no one is going to understand that reference....

Ahem. Anyway.

What's with the whole "jerk Billionaire with a heart of gold" cliche? Why does he have to be a jerk? Since when is being a jerk sexy? 

Apparently since Wattpad was created.

And why can't he just be socially awkward and have resting grumpy face so everyone thinks he's a jerk but he's actually super nice - and not because Mary Sue "brings out the best in him". Ugh. Just because he's a nice dude.

Also, why wouldn't the billionaire drive - or rather, be driven by a chauffeur - to his destination if he's so rich?

And if he's this famous dude, why wouldn't he have bodyguards? Or limos? Or a freaking car? Why does the MC always bump into him on the street - quite literally?

What if his chauffeur runs her over with the car? Dear lord I need help, that's violent...but it's probably been done before, honestly.

+++

Mary Sue hurried down the sidewalk in her average, middle class neighborhood full of middle class people, with no big business buildings around or high class venues or hotels.

She had just gotten her morning Starbucks, obviously. She had her hair pulled back in a messy bun, and was wearing a baggy sweater and leggings and was reading Harry Potter while she walked down the sidewalk. Because there was no way she would bump into someone because she wasn't watching where she was going. Like, at all.

Suddenly, she hit a wall! But it wasn't a wall! It was a man with a chiseled jaw, jet black hair, and piercing blue eyes who was wearing a suit - a very expensive looking suit - that she had just spilled her coffee all over.

"O-oh I-I'm s-so S-sorry!" She stammered, trying to wipe the coffee off of the jacket, when in fact all she was doing was rubbing it in more.

"It's fine." He said. His voice was pinched and gruff. Oh my god! He was such a jerk!

(Actually, the coffee was just extremely hot and was burning his skin - and...other...places - and it hurt.)

He slipped the jacket off his shoulders, and through his white button down shirt, she could see his bulging biceps and toned abs.

He was confused as to why she was staring at his chest. Rude. And why had she been reading in the middle of a busy sidewalk? That made no sense.

"Good day." He said in a dull tone, before sidestepping her and being on his way.

"B-but w-wait!" She cried, running after him.

"What?" He sighed in irritation. (Actually, he was just nervous about the meeting he was going to. And he was trying to mentally prepare himself for it and had been thrown off by this unexpected confrontation.)

"L-let m-me m-make it up to y-you!" She stammered, not able to look him in the eyes. Those gorgeous, blue eyes that seemed to shine from within his very soul.

"It's fine. I have plenty of suits." He said, his words clipped and tense. (Because he had business to attend to and some random girl had ruined his favorite suit jacket - the only one that he could comfortably bend his arms in - with fucking Starbucks. He kind of hated Starbucks.) 

And now she wouldn't leave him alone, and claimed she was "trying to make it up to him" when he had already told her it was fine. 

"N-no, y-you're clearly u-upset," she stammered.