Give Me Them Digits, Girl.

Someone please explain to me the miracle that is the cute girl hanging out with the dude "playing in the minors." You've got this guy; bearded; glasses; really long, stringy hair stuffed under a crappy cadet hat; wearing cargo khakis with a pull over sweater that looks like it might have some bong water stains, and the absolutely cute chick who is a third the guy's size; wearing a cute plaid skirt; nice skin; and great make-up. 

In my head, this scenario NEVER works out for the ugly fat dude and the cute girl leaves without giving the underdog another shot. Secretly, I'm pissed at the guy because in my head, I could have been the next "underdog" she decided to give a shot, but now that's ruined. Thanks a lot, fatty cargo ass! 

That's when I realize that I'm not the underdog and I'm not playing in the minors. I'm playing for the big leagues and on the winning team. Unfortunately, I'm also not taking any shots (switching it up to soccer). I've been spending most of my time just passing the ball along and not driving it at the keeper. To be honest, had my love-life been an actual player, I'd make excuses that he's creating opportunities for other players before I truly hated him for never crushing the ball when the opportunity showed itself.

Now, I'm not actually upset with myself about my love-life. If anything, I'm pretty proud that I haven't put up with any BS since college. Seeing some of my friends go through the crap they dealt with this past year really raised my confidence in that decision. It's been one that I've stuck to, but it's sometimes the one in which I wonder if I've put too much weight on. Seems like I've decided not to deal with any BS that when I get even a hint of it, I immediately write a girl off and move on to the next one. Unfortunately, the 'next one' tends to take her time.

Playing in the top league does mean that I have to really start playing like I know I belong there. I've got my friends cheering me on; telling me I'm awesome; reassuring me that I deserve the best, but I still have a tough time believing them. The worst part is that I'm absolutely terrible when it comes to picking up on a girl's hints. I'm pretty sure this has been mentioned in a post before, but if it hasn't, you've probably heard me say it in person. I'm completely oblivious to them.

A few months ago, I wrote a post where I called myself a "green beret of vagina". This title has never helped me out when it comes to women. Something in my brain shuts off when I'm talking to a girl I dig and I can't tell if she's into me. Sure, I can strike up a conversation with any person in a room (Nazis excluded from that list) and have a really good time, but I can never tell if I should ask for a girl's number. It's a weird feeling knowing that I can talk to someone with such ease, but not know if a girl would be into continuing the conversation over dinner. Maybe I'm just too polite and focused on having a good time. One thing that's for certain is that I'm ready for my chance to smack the ball into the open net and hear the roar of the crowd - or just hearing my friends say "cool." 

The crazy part about the scene I described up top is that the guy was the bored one. That pompous jerk.

Gain Some Real World Experience

Lately, I've been exploring the cringing thought of what an interview actually is. Before graduating a few years back, I heard my college professors liken it to going on a date. Well, if that's the case, I completely under dress for my dates, but I can see the similarities.

Arriving at an interview, you try to be early and show that you're conscious of time. Your heart is racing, perhaps because you ran a few blocks to get there on time, and your palms are a little sweaty. Like with all of my dates, I introduce myself with a sturdy handshake and look each person in the eye while thinking "I will own you."

For the first time in my life, I went on an interview where the company presented themselves to me. Every single job I've ever applied for, and interviewed with, was always the opposite. It was about what I could do for the company and how I could better their business. The concept of the company trying to sell itself to me first was a brand new experience. Needless to say, I immediately applied it to my dating life and expect every girl to sell themselves to me. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Almost everyone can agree that their dates have been about trying to "sell" themselves to the other person. Either they were trying to impress or just be someone they're not. It's something most people have come to recognize and I hope they shed that kind of thinking or they're in for a rude awakening. It's this realization that has helped me out in my daily life and has made me a happier person.

Ok. Life lesson over. Go have some fun, kids.

Take A Number, Please.

It's a bit weird when you run into a friend's ex-girlfriend. I like to think that I'd say hi when I see them, but the truth is that I'll only do it when I know for certain that they've seen me. Even then, I say hi very softly just in case I actually slipped passed their vision. Let's face it, though. I'm not very hard to miss.

So, we end up exchanging as few words as possible, at least on my side. I try to not let things go passed "hi", unless I really got along with the girl. But when it's your friend's brother's ex (did you follow that?), I won't even say anything.

And oh boy is it fun when they're out with another guy! In the back of my head, all I'm thinking is "haha! You're the idiot who came after my friend." 9 times out of 10, the girl is completely crazy and good on your friend for getting out of that circus they called a relationship. Then there's the 1 time that you know your friend is still at home and crying his eyes out after reruns of Scrubs. Great show, by the way.

Seeing as I've had the fewest exes of all my friends, I wonder what my friends will think of my future ex-girlfriend. Hopefully, they'll treat her with the respect that she probably deserves and the dignity every human should receive. This is all just in the moment, of course. We'll drag her name through the mud later, the bitch.

Anyone Seen My Lucille Ball Around?

Whitney Cummings. Holy crap is that girl hot. Am I right? Maybe I'm wrong and maybe you're stupid, but we're not getting into that. 

For a while I've always thought that the funny, cute girl was a thing of legend, and in a way she still is. Just because Whitney Cummings exists and is evidence that a girl can be both cute and funny doesn't really make it a reality to me. I guess I'm going to be a bit of a skeptic until I see one right in front of me.

When I decided to get back into the dating game, I made a decision that I wouldn't settle for anything less than a girl with a great sense of humor and who was very nice to look at. Well, it's been about six years and we're still scoreless. I'm not really asking for much, am I? 

Then I got to thinking that maybe they just don't exist in my age group. Somehow, the funny cute girl gene never made it out of the 70's and I must mourn its loss. But that's not true! Freaking Miss "Hot Damn" Cummings was born a year before me. There's also the girlfriends of the co-hosts of The Nerdist Podcast. Those guys are about my age and have hilarious girlfriends. This means the gene has survived but is laying quite dormant. 

Well, wake up, damn it! The (good) male population could really use you. We're starting to lose hope in women and it ain't looking any better. But, I guess we'll have to wait. Maybe they're waiting at the finish line for the good guys who finish last. Preferably a redhead?