Weed, Sports and Hip Hop don't count..

In light of my recent dating extravaganza and the up and coming close of the Cuffin Season opener, I would like to share some advice with the gentlemen out there (I hope that there are gentlemen that read my blog).  This advice is geared toward the younger men, but it applies to all. 

I can tolerate a lot--except stupidity

I like to talk, well most women like to talk.  I like to talk more than the average individual (if #76 is reading, he just rolled his eyes), about nothing and everything all at the same time.  Intelligent conversation with a certain amount of passion.  But I will no longer hold conversation with anyone about weed and hip hop.  I WILL talk about sports, but I expect a man a to know about sports of some sort. 

So you mean to tell me that you spent at least 12 years in school, and you didn't like any part of it?  The weather?  Politics?  Religion?  I don't care if we talk about the graphics and controls of 2K13, but we have to be able to talk about something when we're sitting looking at each other. 

And then they realize that I'm bored and just try to put their hand on my thigh. 

Get your conversation game together guys!  Go learn something or read a book real quick if you have to--SOMETHING!! You have to be able to talk about something!  It's the conversation that I remember when I think of you later--not the placement of your hand on my thigh.  I didn't give your dumb ass permission to touch me. 

This post is brought to you today by the Cuffin season, #55 and my Terrible Towel. 

Pause:  When I started the blog, I said that I wasn't going to blog about anyone until after the third date and I had a chance to warn them about the blog.  This guy will NOT make it to date 3 so......

Fuck that!

#55 ruined that for the rest (as men usually do).  My life, my blog and it can all possibly be put out there.  I'm not telling anymore either.  Find this out on your own.

#55 (Mr. No Conversation) and I went to a bar yesterday (just got real huh?).  Anyone who knows me knows that I am a DIE HARD STEELERS FAN.  I like to talk-----shit!  But I can live in harmony with someone cheering for the other team as long as their cheering doesn't start to disrespect my team.  Guess number #55 didn't get the memo. 

He was already skating on thin ice--very thin.  Our conversation had already jumped from hip hop to music and back to hip hop.  I was exhausted and bored.  We went to a bar to watch the game and play a little pool.  I was still trying to push conversation (which is pretty impressive considering the game was on), but he couldn't think of anything to say.  He zoned in on the game.  He said he was cheering for the other team--cool, I'm always down for a little competition.  But instead of just cheering for the other team, he started to talk a little smack about my team.  You don't know me Bro!  I mean, he was goin' in--laughing at every dropped pass and tackle.  I wanted to smack him in the mouth with my Terrible Towel--I didn't have it handy. 

He must have missed the expression on my face or the fact that my fist was balled up, but he just kept going.  Don't talk mess about my team--just don't do it. 

When he finally realized I was bored, he put his hand on my thigh.

My team won and date was over. 

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