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.

Creature From The Back Room-goon

By the time this post goes up, I'll be gearing up for the New York Comic Con. It'll be the first time I'm surrounded by complete comic book nerds and hopefully, many half clad women. I'm sure that the majority of them will have their guts hanging over their belts, but I stay optimistic. I'm talking about the women. Overweight comic book nerds are a given.

So, what should I expect from my first "Con"? Will I be disappointed or glad? Will I accept these nerds and furthermore, will they accept me? Either way, I'm headed in with a good friend who is like me.

We're both the type of nerds that aren't really nerds at all. Many of our friends are just cool people with nerdy attributes. Yes, he loves Planet of the Apes and I have my undying allegiance to The Doctor, but we can both successfully drink our weight in beer and hold a conversation with women. Not to mention we've both spent many years playing in bands (guitars, not marching).

The shyness of nerds has always been a laugh for me. I crack up every time I see a caricature of the nerdy group of guys who constantly push their glasses to the bridge of their nose, breath through their mouths and freak out as an attractive girl approaches them. My friend and I encountered these very nerds while we were checking out a comic shop. 

We walked in and spent some time browsing the racks, chatting up the owner, and found out there was a section in the back with more stock. So, we make our way to the back half of the store where we were greeted with the sight of five guys, one barefoot, sitting around a table and arguing about the direction a writer was taking a certain superhero comic. I couldn't believe it. The very guys I saw in comedy bits and on TV were sitting before my very eyes. One was flipping through his pages of playing cards while the others thumbed through comics, only lifting their eyes to state their opinions. 

We made our way back up front, paid for our books, and walked out. Neither one of us said a word until we both sat in my car and just started laughing. It was such a shock to the both of us that these guys existed and we couldn't be more happy that we weren't like them. Don't get upset though. We were both very appreciative of these guys and know that they have a good time being who they are. It just made us appreciate who we are and how great it was to have each other as friends.

What cracks me up is that this entire blog entry could have been written by one of those guys. In their version, we're the weirdos and they laughed at us as we walked out. Either way, I was the one able to laugh about it with a girl later that night.

I'm Just a Big Fatty

Let's take a second and discuss how finding someone attractive works? OK, I really don't want to discuss the science behind it. I just want some answers as to why certain guys, who I think are awesome, are still waiting for the right girl. Then I see dudes with some of the cutest girls I've seen on this earth, well, this island, and wonder what those girls could possibly see in them. 

Now, I know there's a ton of "relationship" advice out there in the world, and God knows that I don't want to add more on to that steaming pile heap, but what gives? I may be speaking personally here, but I'm sure a lot of readers might be feeling the same thing. There's also the possibility that girls might be switching the roles here and asking the very same question.

For a while, I've come to terms that in order to attract the type of girl I want, I need to make myself attractive to them. I don't mean by changing who I am, just that I could stand to lose a few pounds. No, no, please. I can hear your protests already, but I assure you, I could do without the extra weight. Heck, the main reason is my health and the (inevitable) girls would be a bonus.

What it boils down to is that I'd be healthier and would allow me to do things I have wanted to do. This in turn would make me happier. But, what about the other guys that I know who have no need to lose weight? Is there something they feel they could do about themselves also? What about the Ryan Goslings of this world who are normal, everyday guys? Where do they fit into this? Why hasn't my question been answered? Am I being delusional in thinking that girls would automatically come crashing at my feet when I lose weight? Is there even an answer to these stupid questions?

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?

You Just Hush Your Mouth

When I was a younger guy, I took pride in the fact that I could talk to any girl in the bar. My friends held me in high esteem for this, what I considered very simple, ability. They would send me into the field when all hope of leaving with a lady's number seemed all but lost. In retrospect, I'm making it seem like I was a Green Beret of vagina. But, that's what it felt like.

I'd get my directive and hone in on the target. My approach would be stealth, their defenses down, and I'd move in for the kill with a swift "hey, what's going on?" of my mouth machete. By the end of the night, everyone was laughing and a conversation was had. Sometimes it ended with makeouts, others with hugs and handshakes, while most ended with numbers exchanged. My friends were happy and things went better than expected.

Now a days, I'm like the bitter, old vet who scowls when they see something they don't like. I find myself not having any patience to speak to some girls when only a few years ago, I'd talk to any of them. If she wasn't interesting, I wouldn't ask for her number at the end of the night. She would just be someone to chat with and I'd find something that would link us together and carry the conversation for the rest of the evening. We'd laugh and in the back of my head I'd silently whisper, "gosh you're a dumb girl." Those words are now a struggle to keep in my head and the booze ain't helping. 

It's no longer about trying to keep the girl entertained enough to get a reward at the end of the night. If she's (let's call it what it is) an idiot then I will have absolutely no tolerance for it. The worst part is that I don't leave. Why don't I leave? It's not hard to simply turn around and walk away while she blabs on about her crappy day care job. My brain is yelling at me "freaking bail, man!" But I don't. 

Know why? Because I'm cooler than her. That's why! 

This conversation is no longer about you. No, it's not about getting your number nor because you have the hottest body in the joint. It's because I'm cooler than you and I'm not leaving until you know it. It's about me and how cool I am and how much you suck compared to the thunderbolt of awesomeness that is my life. You're going to love me and find me witty, funny, and charming. Maybe another idiot will fall prey to your trap, but not me.

Well, I guess I'll try my hand at speed dating. Seems like those people might have the right idea.