Friday Folly: Tiger Woods Has A Smaller One Than His Ex-Wife’s New Boyfriend.

Guess what I am talking about from the topic of my post.  Come on, give it a shot.  Hmm…so you DO have a dirty mind like yours truly.  I see.  Well you were wrong.  I was talking about yachts.  Just plain old boring yachts.  Apparently Elin Nordegren’s boyfriend has a yacht that is bigger than her ex-husband, Mr. Woods’.  How belittling.  Good thing his game is starting to come around.

I called up the Tiger himself to relay this bit of exciting and world-changing news to him.  His reaction was priceless.  “How the hell does she know this?  Is that b@@ch sleeping with him? In my bed?  Well I meant my old bed…  There’s no way in hell his thing could be bigger!  He’s white for goodness sake!  I am a brother, we are known for…”  And that’s when I interrupted his rant.  “Hey buddy, we are talking about yachts here.  I see you have a dirty mind like some of my readers.  Focus bro, focus.”

Being a stubborn Tiger, he was still determined to get the last word in.  “This Kevin Cline might have a bigger yacht but ask Elin who has the bigger iron.  Hell, you can ask Lindsey too, she loves my wood iron.”  I let him know it was Chris, not Kevin and politely ended the conversation.

And if you don’t believe me, you can read it all for yourself, right here.

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I wish I loved Valentine’s day

TodayIFoundOut_AntiValentinesDay1I am self-confessed anti-Valentine.  Don’t accuse me of being unromantic or a Scrooge as I’m neither of those.  I can buy roses and chocolates with the best of them and I can wine and dine my woman like no other.  I don’t believe that I should be letting someone dictate what day I should be doing those things.  I am the one in love, I should know when to show love and appreciation to my better half.

Valentine’s day to me is what I call a make-up day.  It’s a day where dead beat spouses, men in most cases, get to pretend they are the best spouses ever and trick their other halves into believing it.  Chocolate and jewelry make everything better.  Or seems better.  Or better to swallow.

Seriously though, I have tried my best to buy into this commercial holiday.  I try ignoring the reason behind the day. (Sales of course!)  I chalked it up to my being a conspiracy theorist.  I tried but can’t get over the hump.  I still don’t buy in.  My wife has tried to get me to subscribe also.  She does all the little things that make Valentine’s day special for loved ones and I appreciate them very much. It would have meant even more to me was it done spontaneously, like on an ordinary day.

Whenever I do or attempt to do something sweet for Valentine, I feel like a fraud.  It somehow feels fake.  It’s like saying, I am doing this because it’s Valentine’s and I’m supposed to do it. I love spontaneous but there’s none in that, is there?

Before I say too much and piss off you folks who live and die for Cupid’s day, I will take my leave.  Have a happy Valentine’s day from me, with love!

I promise, I won’t say Bah! Humbug! to Valentine’s and for my wife’s sake, I sincerely do wish that I can find a little love in my heart for this day.

Memoirs of a nice player

Let me be clear, this is not a confession.  I repeat, this is not a confession.  I used to be in the game.  Yeah, deep in the game.  I considered myself skilled and quite a natural.  I wasn’t the hottest guy in the house but I sure was the one taking home the hottest lady in the house.  Mind you, that doesn’t mean that I was painful to look at or anything.  I was a player by all definition and never once did I sit on the bench.

Man, I played it like it a pro.  At the bars, I oozed ‘player’.  Oh yeah baby, I was a player.  I am not bragging about it but I learned from it. I wasn’t mean or an asshole to girls. I just had a lot of them. I never had a space between relationships.  My charm was a weapon.

It wasn’t about the sex, don’t get me wrong. I mean in some instances, the sex was a welcome additive but taking home that hot chick that all the other guys were salivating over was grand!  “How do you do it?” They would ask.  “What do you say to them?”  They would even point out hot girls and dare me to get a dance or a number, to which I willingly obliged.  I can’t remember ever striking out.  Why? I was nice. I was a nice player.

Now you wannabes are waiting for the big secret on how to meet and greet girls.  Well let me tell you how I did it.  I tried to always be myself.  I go up to the girl and I started talking her language.  I didn’t brag on things I have or didn’t have, or my accomplishments. I talked about everyday stuff, without trying to sound smart.  I made sure that she knows I am just there to talk, not get her in bed or get her number.  Talk usually led to one or all of those anyways.

I have dated girls who were supposed to be friends with benefits but being a nice player, I couldn’t  say no to their requests for a relationship.  How do I say no after spending time with them, enjoying their company or worst yet, having sex with them?  I couldn’t be that mean.  Let’s just say I was a con with a conscience.  Maybe I wasn’t that great of a player after all.

My wife of 7 years was supposed to have been just a friend.  I met her right after a breakup and we both agreed to just be friends with garnish on the side.  Well before you know it, she had succumbed to my charm and wanted more.  Of course I obliged. I had already slept with the woman!  Now I don’t regret a moment of it.  It was the best ‘yes’ I have ever said.

My playing days are over.  I am hobbled now but a guy can reminisce can’t he?  I couldn’t have been that bad of a guy as I am still friends with all of my exes.  They understand the game.  Hearts get broken.

Oh, and if you ever wanted some tips on dating, feel free to drop me a line.  Do it, all my friends do, especially my female friends.  Don’t forget, I know the game inside out.