Sports: The Female Mystique or Mistake

All right Ladies, what's the deal? I find it hard to believe that you are that excited about the Rangers or that upset about the Cowboys getting owned by anyone and everyone. Hell, Liam plays better ball than those fools and he has a bum kidney. I'm not saying that you can't be supportive of a sports organization especially considering the economics and how it will help the city of Arlington, not to mention the entire metroplex.

However, it is difficult for me to grasp the concept that you honestly like any sports team on your own accord. It all started somewhere. And that somewhere has a penis. It started one Sunday afternoon when your first serious boyfriend wanted to hang out at the house, alone, and you being insecure (albeit because we all were at that age) wormed your way over to his house. Now, had it been me and it was, I asked so many questions and made so many faces that he and I promptly broke up with one another citing irreconcilable differences. You, on the other hand, may have watched in feigned interest, asking only a few questions, in clarification, of course...The result of that afternoon is a life long affection of the Godforsaken sport. Why, God, why? He introduces you to Moliere or Reagonomics, not the inner sanctity of football or baseball for Christ's sake. Furthermore, they don't want you in their sanctuary. Men only pretend they do so you don't get mad and withhold sex or get upset and withhold sex or get mad and upset and withhold sex.

If you find yourself getting defensive then you know I'm right. If I'm wrong and you've always been a beer-swilling, sweatshirt-wearing, hell-raisin' Cowboys fan, then congratulations for you. I'm proud. When you want to come back to the land of the living, I'll welcome you back with open arms. I just might make you take a shower first to rid yourself of the stench of sports.