More Stacey Pressman of ESPN

Who would have thought I'd find such fascinating sports related non-sports material on ESPN.com. Having been intrigued by the Stacey Pressman essay on Metrosexuality, I found out she has been writing for ESPN.com about lots of stuff.
To see her archive go here.

Anyway, looking over the titles of her articles, I checked out this one. Excerpts:

I can't tell you how many times I've heard it:

Girls would be shocked to find out what guys really want.

"Stacey, you're young, attractive, you've got a great job, you've got so much going for you and you're a girl who knows and loves sports."

Now here's the clincher:

"I can't believe you, of all people, don't have a boyfriend!"

This observation is enough to send any 20-something single female into a quarterlife crisis. But before I seek out Dr. Phil, or Gloria Steinem-ize the fact that I don't need a man to validate my existence, I want to vent my frustration about that generic "you-know-sports-so-guys-must-like-you" descriptor:

It's a farce.

It's a lie.

It's not even remotely true.

Let's face it -- men really don't like women who know sports.

Alas, as a male, I have to say she might be right on this point. Men have egos and like to feel competent about something... anything! Certainly sports has been a traditional male domain.

I'd like to believe my ego isn't that fragile. 8-)

There was one other article that just had me laughing. Check this one out for the isn't dating life awful sometimes file. Excerpts:

I'm about at the end of my rapidly fraying rope.

My girlfriends tell me I can't be so picky, I need to give guys a chance. So, like Coach Devine of Notre Dame with 27 seconds left, I opted to put Rudy in the game. For some reason, my game always feels like there's 27 seconds left. I decided that the next guy to ask me out, in person, regardless of who he was or what he looked like, that I would go. I'm a true humanitarian, what can I say?

So here I was on this date the other night under the pretense that we would "get something to eat" and watch a "war" movie. Can you believe I agreed to the latter? Like Ricky Williams, I think I consulted Master P before signing this bad-ass deal.

In the end, I was cool with it. We agreed to watch "Braveheart." Seen it a million times. Loved it!

My date, for what it's worth, wasn't bad looking, either. Polite and considerate, too.
............
He couldn't just settle for our "Braveheart" agreement. He called an audible at the line of scrimmage. Without consultation, he insisted upon watching every major battle scene in each of the movies on the table.

I thought I was going to lose it. Who invites a girl over and does that?
............
Like a WNBA game, it was utter torture. After about 90 minutes of this nonsense and all my hair pulled out, I threw the flag.

Do you think I was unreasonable?

All I can say is he should be thankful I don't have NFL referee Jeff Triplette's aim, or he could have ended up with injuries worse than Orlando Brown.

Awww, Stacey, you weren't unreasonable!

Dear readers, don't worry, this blog isn't going to turn into a soap opera. It just was too funny to find such stuff on a sports web page and I just had to blog it.