What's a guy suppoosed to do?

This has been kicking around for a bit, but Football_Bat’s breeder/fuck trophy thread (and for some reason, some of the comments on the Dakota Fanning thread) really got me thinking about it tonight.

For some of us stuck in the single-and-childless segment of society, it’s not always by choice. Once upon a time, I had plans to meet the perfect girl, have the storybook romance, raise a few kids and live happily ever after, but society doesn’t seem to want that to happen.

I’m now well past 40, haven’t had a date in almost three years and have every expectation of dying alone and unloved. It’s not that I don’t want children, I’ve just never found a willing accomplice.

(I will say that I have no idea if I could even handle parenthood. As fucked up as I was growing up, I’d hate to think what some child in my care would turn out to be like.)

I realize the nature of the business has a lot to do with this — hell, I’ve been doing this for about 18 years now — as does working in a relatively small market where there isn’t a lot to chose from. Of the almost-decent nightspots to hit around here, most close shortly after our crew gets off work any way.

It’s just that it seems like I’m to be denied the opportunity to even fail on my own. Like because you weren’t one of the cool kids in school, you’re never going to be allowed to have a life (no matter how many times some asshole tells you to get one).

Part of my situation stems from working at a an extremely paranoid place where sexual harassment allegedly lurks around every corner. Did you know just looking at a girl can be grounds for a complaint? (Every paper in the chain had to offer “sensitivity workshops” to make sure all us cretins behave correctly; it seems that just about the time I arrived, they had to run off the copy desk chief for his attempts to woo one of the page designers.) While there is no company policy against dating a coworker, I got warned off pretty much every single woman in the building shortly after being hired, and this without having met several of them.

That was exacerbated by our newsroom floorplan — the first desk I was assigned to sat directly outside (and facing) the women’s restroom. The first few days I was there, I’d hear a door open, reflexively look up and more often than not be confronted with a female staffer giving me a dirty look. The fact that we have a female ME didn’t exactly help matters.

While nothing was every officially said, I just got the feeling that I was being labeled the creepy new guy in sports. Our ASE, whose desk was just a few feet left of mine, told me he also found the arrangement less than comfortable. I got lucky in that another staffer left the place, so I quickly commandeered his old desk — well out of the danger zone — before a replacement could be hired.

Even if I haven’t skeeved off every woman in the building, other areas are just as barren. Most of the other females I deal with either coach or play on the teams I cover. Since the vast majority of our coverage is high schools, that eliminates all of the under-age athletes.

An assistant football coach I deal with once suggested that I ask out a new female coach at his school. That got shot down when his head coach/AD quickly explained why I probably shouldn’t (something about my being as masculine as she was). OK, so female coaches are also off-limits.

Now that I’m getting old enough to have a child of high school or college age, it has been suggested I find a divorced mom of one of the athletes. That might be acceptable in some places, but not here. I work in a two-school town where everyone is convinced that the damn newspaper favors the other place. All I need is for someone to cut loose with the gossip that a kid got written up in the paper just because his/her mom is fucking the sports writer.

Even if a woman my age doesn’t have a child involved in sports, there would be some connection to one school or another that would prove my favoritism. I couldn’t even date a kindergarten teacher without somebody claiming that showed how I rooted for the high school those kids would attend in another 10 years.

One thing I’ve had to constantly deal with, and not just in my present location, is the shallow, fickle nature of single women in my age bracket (which may be why they’re single at that age). I’ve heard too many times how they want a guy who will be supportive and sensitive and all other kinds of Dr. Phil bullshit, then get shot down because of my income, my car, my haircut or something else that would appear to be a superficial matter.

I’m too country for the city girls, too citified for the country girls (I have actually been told no simply because I don’t wear Wrangler jeans), too tall for the short girls, too fat for the athletic girls and too white for the ethnic girls. Being too poor for the rich girls, of course, goes without saying. Hell, I never even get to find out if we have any common interests or not.

I’ll be the first to admit I’ll never be mistaken for Brad Pitt, but I’m also not going to be confused with the guy from the Ohio State library, either.

I’m just tired of having to explain that, no, I’m not gay, I’m just a pathetic loser who can’t get a girl. I’m still not sure Mom believes me.







I shall now log back on under my normal secret identity and mercilessly lambaste the pathetitard who posted this pussified drivel.

 

Dude, stop blaming it on the business.

Stop listening to everyone else.

 

What do you do when you're not working? (And reading this site doesn't count.)

Find something outside work. Join a softball league on one of the nights you're not working. Join a book club. If you have free days, volunteer somewhere. Expand your ciircle beyond work, and you'll meet some new people. Good luck.

 

Join match.com or something like that.

No joke. My 40-something godmother signed up on Match.com and was happily married within a few months. The marriage is still going strong, so far as I can tell.

 

Just don't expect the people on there to be any less superficial than they are at the local nightclub.

 

Artist/Band: Nichols Joe
Lyrics for Song: What's a Guy Gotta Do
Lyrics for Album: Revelation

What's... a... guy gotta do to get a girl in this town
Don't wanna be alone when the sun goes down
Just a sweet little somethin to put my arms around
What's a guy gotta do to get a girl in this town

Well ask anybody I'm a pretty good guy
And the looks decent wagon didn't pass me by
There ain't nothin in my past that I'm tryin hard to hide
And I don't understand why I gotta wonder why

What's a guy gotta do to get a girl in this town
Don't wanna be alone when the sun goes down
Just a sweet little somethin to put my arms around
What's a guy gotta do to get a girl in this town

Cruise all around the right parking lots
little time gets killed alotta bull gets shot
one who'll think I'm kinda cute and laugh at every joke I got
when I get to thinkin maybe she's athinkin maybe not

What's a guy gotta do to get a girl in this town
Don't wanna be alone when the sun goes down
Just a sweet little somethin to put my arms around
What's a guy gotta do to get a girl in this town

Had an old man tell me "Boy if you were smart
you'd hit the produce isle at the Super Walmart"
So I bumped into a pretty girl's shopping cart
but all I did was break her eggs and bruise her artichoke hearts

What's a guy gotta do to get a girl in this town
Don't wanna be alone when the sun goes down
Just a sweet little somethin to put my arms around
What's a guy gotta do to get a girl in this town

What's a guy gotta do to get a girl in this town

 

<SLAP!>

Wake up, man!

You have blamed every situation and everyone else for your marital status except one person.

You.

Do you come off as whiney in person as your post? If so, that is why you haven't been able to get a date -- who wants to date a whiner? What does that offer anyone? It may be PC to play the victim, but in reality, it doesn't draw the chicks.

It's time for a personal overhaul and reassessment. Get a notebook and pen, sit down and start making a list (yes, this is one of my favorite nuggets of advice for those of you following along at home.) And BE HONEST! List your good traits -- are you good at something, are you neat and tidy -- all that counts. Then, make a list of your bad traits -- the things you don't like about yourself. I'm guessing from your post, that your 'bad' list will probably dwarf your 'good' list.

Now, look OBJECTIVELY at that bad list. What is changeable? Don't like your hair? See a stylist and get a new cut. Don't like that you sit staring at the walls on your day off? Someone else suggested a hobby. Get involved in something (charity work is a really good something) and quit wallowing! Use your 'good' list to decide what type of volunteer or charity work would suit you. Once you quit fixating on yourself and start looking outward, your outlook on life should improve.

You had also mentioned something about not having something to offer a child were you to have one because of your upbringing. This tells me that you have some serious unresolved problems which need to be taken care of. Have you considered looking for some counseling to come to terms with your childhood? You have a major self-confidence crisis at work here, and until that is solved, you will not attract a decent woman.

So quit wallowing in your self-pity and decide to do something about it!!! You are worth it, so do it!

 

Rosie with the throwdown!

 

way to go rosie!

the other possibility, rubadubdub, if you are convinced that this business is the reason you can't get a girlfriend is quit the business. sure sure i know you love it and can't imagine doing anything else, but have an honest talk with yourself and figure out what's more important -- being a sports reporter or finding love. not that it's a certainty you'll find something when you quit but if you honestly believe that the business is the problem - and i'm with rosie; i sincerely doubt it - then get the fuck out. go into PR. go back to school. sell real estate. whatever.

 

Actually, I ust made a list of 19 things that I want to do in the next12 months and I dont even hate my life.

 

I just love the fact that he called a prospective mate "a willing accomplice."

Now that's romance.