How To Date Fanatical Men

I’m not a fan of this fan. You know the guy—spilling his beer while he screams at the referee … on TV. He owns and wears his favorite team jersey when the game is on. He refers to his team using “we” instead of “they.”

All right. At least he’s a passionate little guy, instead of a lifeless lump. You need to have him channel that energy toward something he has a modicum of control over—something like cunnilingus, perhaps. Too much? How about landscape maintenance?

If you are also frantically fanatic, you don’t want to date this sort of guy, or you’ll be brawling constantly.

You need to be the calming force for this mascot perv. When he starts throwing his tantrum over the foul that wasn’t called, he needs you to lower his blood pressure. Don’t attempt to do this by saying, “Calm down, Honey.” That will make things worse.

(You don’t like when he says you’re overreacting or too sensitive, or if he asks if you have PMS. Right?)

Best to agree with his assessment, then cause a distraction. Here are some suggestions:

  • “That was an awful call. Here, look at my nipple.”
  • “Would you like a beej?”
  • “Hey, I found some Creamsicles in the freezer!”
  • “How does my ass look in these yoga pants?”
  • “Wanna watch some porn?”

If you have your sights set on one of these guys, here’s how to get him into your scrum. Find a clingy jersey. Pink is ideal. Wear it to his favorite sports bar. If the bar serves beer in aluminum bottles (I already hate this bar), order one and post up near a TV. If you don’t already know how it would be awesome if you could learn how to put two fingers in your mouth and whistle loudly.

(You thought I was going somewhere else with your fingers, didn’t you? Maybe later.)

Keep your eye on him, and determine his favorite player and an adult beverage. During a commercial break, bring him that beverage, and say, “Let’s cheers to Joey Jocko.” Then chug a few gulps, and burp—not one of those hair-parting, windshield dotting, intestinal belches. You’re a lady. Cover your mouth with your jersey, burp-squeak, then giggle, and say “Excuse me.” He’ll be smitten, my kitten.

How good was this post?

Click on a star to rate it or just sit there and stare.

Average rating / 5. Vote count:

Since you found this post good ...

Follow me on social media.

About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.
%d bloggers like this: