I had this overwhelming urge to write something serious for a change last night, this was largely encouraged by having fleeting thoughts of my father the writer. You see the man was a very accomplished writer, it’s just too bad the rest of him was a train wreck. A friend of mine raised an interesting point yesterday…well she is less of a friend and more a new acquaintance. She has a personality which makes her not unlike myself, which makes her my absolute enemy. Back on topic. My new enemy raised a point yesterday about low-leaguing, the act of placing just about everyone in a league outside of your own. For those of you not yet comprehending that this is related to dating, get out.
I am a huge fan of low-leaguing because I have underlying issues with self-confidence that manifest themselves as over-confidence and blind ambition fuelled by an even more blind rage and distaste for people in general. This got me thinking that, like everything else in life, the reasons for low-leaguing are both finite and perfect for a list. I present the top 5 reasons to low league.
1. Placing someone outside of your league makes it a challenge; challenges create goals and goals make men out of boys, who later go on to become wolves and future leaders in the business world. By mentally preparing yourself for a challenge, you have to overcome and fail. And if you fail, you also win because you’ve then taken your half-assed second rate genetic material out of the running for what my friends in med school call ‘reproduction’. You either get the girl and your positive genetic traits are parlayed into a smaller version of you in the future, through the interaction of semen and girl parts OR you don’t and you spare the world the second coming of your lacklustre personality.
2. People like people who consistently over achieve, it makes them feel like there are people in the world who are equipped to tackle the future pitfalls of humanity. Oh, you don’t like over achievers? that’s probably because you either are one and you want to destroy them through sheer competition, or you’ve been previously castrated (in a social or career sense) by an over achiever and wish it was you. In any event, when you have a friend who is dating ‘out of their league’, its reassuring to know that they are ambitious. And hey, we all need something to aspire to (except me, I aspire to be more like myself everyday)
3. We landed on the moon. We discovered blowjobs. Why? Because at some point someone said, ‘hey, that looks like a challenge’. Let’s go chart some of the African continent…how about no, let’s go to the fucking moon. I don’t know how we are going to get there, or the logistics of flying a space ship, but we’re going. Blowjobs? Same story…there are only two places where I can put my gentlemans sausage? Wrong, let’s take the most challenging part of the body and put something in there. Are women going to like this? Probably not, so let’s make this a god damn reality. There are easier places to go then the moon, and there are more accessible places to put your johnson, but whoever wanted to stick to the beaten path?
4. It’s unbecoming to place a girl below your league. You may be a 10, but have some class, Yankee.
5. That serious thing I wanted to write about? Now seems like a good time. We low-league because if we place someone out of our league, we aren’t disappointed when they don’t fall in love with us. Or when they do fall in love and we inevitably ruin it, we justify it by saying that that we were in over our heads to begin with, like we were carrying some sort of relationship mortgage off the fiscal cliff of emotion. Analogies, I’ve got them.
You’ve learned something today dear reader, much like you do every time you visit.
There is a trend I’ve noticed in Toronto where girls have started dressing like prostitots. I say tots because they are approximately 13 years old. Every girl in Toronto is 13. It used to be that I had to get caught checking out a girl. She would walk towards me and I would keep my eyes forward until such a time that she was at my three and I would take a quick boob glance, then eyes forward. Check the rearview mirror and move on. This approach allowed me ample time to formulate in my cortical matter what exactly this girl could look like naked. Is the push-up bra doing all of the work, or are we dealing with some heavy baggage? I wonder if she is a gymnast, perhaps. Maybe, just maybe she has an intricate tattoo relating her daddy issues to one lucky suiter
