Why I won’t date pro cyclists, a two part series
Part one:
I get some grief cuz, as someone told me a few races ago, I ‘have barbed wire around my underwear’. Well. I love my homeboys. Just not that way. I should. It seems like it would make sense, you know, since we are both active, psycho, competitive, narcissitic, motivated, types of species. But I don’t typically. I tried to once or twice and I learned pretty quickly.
Why?
They cheat.
And if they don’t, they might because it’s accepted among us peers.
I am too selfish to deal with that.
In her infinite wisdom, I had a friend tell me several weeks ago, : “professional athletics breeds a lesser moral standard for some weird reason. It’s just so. Not sure why, but it’s like a plague and I see you struggling with that.”. Yea, hard living, hard riding, hard training, hard sleeping, hard refueling. I do that all, but I don’t want to be that chick.
Not that I really care either way, dang. It’s not my business. And I’m the last to throw judgement. It’s prolly safe to say I’ve made more mistakes than all my homeboys put together, but I’m just sayin’ that I don’t want to wonder about a relationship in a mostly relationshipless environment.
Nevermind the second part to the series. I think I just covered it all.
Now off to my new music cache,
BB
August 23rd, 2006 at 9:19 pm
Hey Becky, did you see the huge cake that they had on the table? I really wanted a piece but thought it would have been a bit awkward going over there and asking for a slice. I also think I want a bird feeder like that……it would look way cool hangning in the back yard.
You should have came over and introduced yourself……or I guess I could have came over there and did the same. We will have to make that happen the next time we cross paths. Were you belching garlic the entire evening after dinner?
I am also assuming that a date is out of the question
August 24th, 2006 at 6:05 am
well, if you got the birdfeeder…I mean, you’re pretty cute, but THE BIRDFEEDER. oh, that birdfeeder.
August 24th, 2006 at 9:05 am
Garrett, dont lie, you werent even looking at the cake, you were looking at the 17 year old daughter that went home and put 18 pairs of clothing on because she felt like every guy in the restaurant undressed her with their eyes that many times. Or so, i am guessing, cuz i didnt see her, i was to busy eating 18 pieces of bread, or i was too pissed that the shittiest kind of beer they had was miller light, or that i was pissed cuz becky hadnt responded to one of my text messages that i had sent her during dinner. Ok, i gotta go, tons of important shit to do, i have many leather bound magzines that need attention. see ya fellow nutters, and yes, i mean both of you
August 26th, 2006 at 7:36 pm
Well, I was trying to look at the cake but my aim was a bit off and my glances kept landing on that hot 17 year old.