It's time for Waxing Off, the only Internet feature which can tell the time in the U.S., London and Prague. Today's topic; why the rules for dating women seem to be different for top athletes.
A couple of years ago, I spent three unremarkable evenings with a professional baseball player who (at the time) wore a helmet emblazoned with the Virginia state bird. At the end of our third and final date, he showed me the cell phone portrait of a certain professional athlete's bowel movement.
We were set up by a mutual friend. I sat there cooing like a retarded dove during the first two dates because he talked about himself a lot, we had no connection, and I was not drunk enough to be even mildly amusing. There were a couple of those "Oh, that was kind of funny…sort of…" moments, but we pretty much just stared boringly at each other for three courses for three dates at three different steak houses and made boring remarks on the boring food.
And then, the final date …
Apparently, there was/is some sort of competition centered on "who can take the largest dump" among a circle of professional athletes. Most of the participants were NFL players and PGA golfers. I do not believe Najeh Davenport was involved. This contest actually had RULES that had been DISCUSSED and VOTED on by members. The main statute was that the "entity" had to cross the water line, or some (I want to use the word that fits here, but I can't) nonsense like that. When one member of the circle produced a worthy effort, a cell phone picture of the item would then be captured and distributed to all participants in the club. The substance was then ranked on a tornado scale from F1 to F5 by all members. F5 represented the most intense deliveries, apparently a reference to the barn scene in "Twister" when Helen "Pinched Face" Hunt and her weather boy were staked down in a barn and their bodies endured incredibly violent winds.
So I discovered this secret society at the end of our third date. As my date strode out of the bathroom, he was starting at his cell phone in rapture. He handed me his cell phone as he sat down, providing no context as to what I was about to observe. So when I first glanced at the picture, I had to really peer at it to comprehend what I was looking at … and when realization set in, I started shaking my head violently, literally throwing the phone at him across the table. I thought he was presenting me a snapshot of the intestinal sculpture he had just carved out … at a white tablecloth steakhouse where they offer you black napkins if you're wearing black (which is a thoughtful gesture). And I'm sitting there stunned, wondering how the hell he went from "kind of boring" to THIS in one bathroom trip. I thought he was the most fucked-up human being I had ever encountered.
And then he stated, completely straight-faced, "Favre just dropped an F-5."
Now, I have no way to authenticate this statement. But, yeah, I believe it.
— Elway's Bitch is heading to Denver with a missile. And she's going to Josh McDaniel's house.
Gorgeous, self-confident, charismatic men — I can't imagine why women find athletes attractive. Add "rich" and "famous" for professional athletes, and I am really baffled by their romantic prowess. Even those of us who think we are above it all can be susceptible to their charms. Athletes are definitely used to playing by different rules, or no rules at all.
I was involved with a former professional athlete turned analyst for a few years. I was not looking for the relationship. In fact, I held him off for a couple of years. But athletes aren't used to hearing the word "no", so I guess that just made me more of a challenge to him. I found out that being relentlessly pursued by someone who is admired by so many is a huge ego boost. Plus he had the money and the resources to make impressive gestures — an incredible "turn-on". How could I resist?
I never understood why I was worth the risk to him. If we had been caught, he may have said goodbye to his lucrative contract, his marriage, his endorsements, etc. I actually thought a little less of him because he gave me so much power, but that fed my ego too. I was worth the risk, and he trusted me — I must be something! I tried not to think about the possibility that I wasn't the only one he was "trusting."
We didn't end it with a huge fight or anything. It just slowly burned out after a few years. Do you think he worries about me talking now? I don't think so. I think that professional athletes are narcissistic and really believe the rules are not for them. And despite all the evidence to the contrary, they think they are untouchable.
I've come to believe that all people are weird, but that some people are more talented at hiding their particular brand of weirdness. I don't think that I know anyone "normal." The more you learn about anyone-your co-workers, friends or a date-the faster you find out their things that are a little or a lot strange.
Famous people, including athletes, have a hard time hiding their freaky deaky because people dish (or send tips to Deadspin). And some famous people may be less inclined to hide their weirdness, because they figure out that people will want to hang out with them no matter what they do. That, and I always assume that a large part of the population is abusing prescription drugs. It is the most logical explanation for a lot of strange behavior.
A story. Back in the day, a buddy of mine invited me to go to the first Comets WNBA game. Free courtside half court tickets. I'd never sat courtside before to anything, so cool whatever.
I remember little about it other than sitting two seats away from Charles Barkley. He had an empty seat next to him, and throughout the first half, a parade of strangers sat in that seat and talked to him. He was extremely cordial to all and after a few minutes with each, security asked those people to move along.
During the game, I got frustrated because nobody was selling any alcohol courtside. So I turn to Barkley and say, "Hey Charles, what does it take to get a beer around here?"
He tells me, "Man, I was thinking the same damn thing. I wanted to go in the locker room and get one, but they got WOMEN in there."
Barkley left at half time but before he went, he invited me to join him for drinks with friends at a nearby bar. I didn't go. Sir Charles behaved in a lovely way to many strangers half court at a WNBA game. And perhaps he would have been the same cordial guy at the bar. My boring story may have led to an interesting evening, but some forms of interesting I'm just not interested in.
— Stephanie Stradley thinks that life without selected weirdness would be boring and writes for FanHouse and a Houston Texans blog for the Houston Chronicle.
I went to college at a Big Ten school and during that time, I worked at a bar where plenty of football, basketball, hockey and baseball players spent their time. Can't get to class but hey, I can make it to $1 pitcher night. This provided many opportunities for dealing with the jock mentality.
One night, two football players who were both pretty hot, well-liked for making game-winning kicks and game-saving catches showed up wearing vests with no shirts underneath. Really? But because of who they were, girls were vying to tear off the vests.
Another time, a football "prodigy" showed up to the bar with other players and basically just sat back and waited for the girls to come to him. Never mind that he smelled, was underage and hadn't really proven anything on the field. His "rival" also stood back, but mostly because he was uncomfortable with attention. I mean really, he was WAY hotter so he should've had girls all over him and the smarmy attitude. But instead, he was respectful and polite. Fighting for a job apparently makes you nicer…
One of the baseball players that I … um … knew said that he always felt he could say what he wanted around girls. Cause if the girl didn't like what she heard, there was another girl lined up behind her who will listen to what he has to say. Sadly, it's true.
What do these stories say about the jock mentality? Basically that they expect to get what they want. It's not rocket science. Why wouldn't they have this kinda attitude? They've also had coaches and fans telling them they're gods and giving them what they want. It doesn't matter how smelly you are, how ridiculously you're dressed and what actually comes out of your mouth. And if the girls are out there willing to put up with it, this mentality won't ever go away…
— Ellie didn't lose any money in Vegas last weekend. Maybe a little dignity, though.
I briefly dated a pro athlete. He was a good guy and probably would have made a good long-term boyfriend. He knew a lot of people, and the bar was always a fun place to be because everyone wanted to talk to him. It did not work out, solely because we were in different places, not because he was a scumbag.
If you ask me, it is not just the pro athlete on the top of his game that treats women like yesterdays garbage. All types of guys treat women like dirt. The only difference is high profile pro athletes are in the spotlight much like movie stars.
I blame the women for letting it happen. A woman does not hang out by the locker room because she wants her ball signed; she is really waiting there hoping the gods bless her with a quickie in the shower. Women are just as much at fault for being taken advantage of as the guys who take advantage of them. Not to mention, if I had the power to take advantage of men, still make tons of money and be considered a god I would most likely do the same. Actually I know many women who would.
I cannot fault those athletes for doing what women allow them to do. It is human nature. Who can be blamed for that?
— Jen Aniano is waiting for A-Rod to sign her ball (wink,wink)