Chicks do not dig:
1. Our athletes and/or teams to be overly rapey or sexual-harassment driven, such as with Albert Haynesworth, Ben Roethisberger, Mark Sanchez, Brett Favre, Lawrence Taylor, the 2005 Minnesota Vikings, KRod, Johan Santana, Kobe Bryant, Mike Tyson, or Isaiah Thomas. The philandering Tiger, ARod, The Rocket, and other one-named people also fall along the periphery of this category.
2. Stupid female sports broadcasters. Let the Erin Andrews debate begin.
3. When a game is on while two extremely important television shows - such as 30 Rock, Pretty Little Liars, or Good Wife, amongst about 42 others – are being DVRed at the same time. This forces us to choose between two can’t-miss shows (especially when we really can’t stand to watch TV on our laptops) and our favorite team. I want to be able to record two shows AND watch live TV, all at once. Please send your complaints to Time Warner.
4. Anything other than light beer (or the rare, delicious cider) at a game. We do not want a terrible tasting boxed white wine in a plastic cup while watching baseball. A beer will be perfect, please do not get creative.
5. Being spoken to or treated like we are clueless about sports. Many of us are, no doubt; however, the rest of us hate those dumb bitches, too.
6. Being proposed to at a sporting event, no matter how big of a fan we may or may not be of that particular team. I would like to be buried in Yankee Stadium or Cameron Indoor, but I do not want to get engaged there. Do not put my name or “Will you marry me?” behind any congratulations to Boy Scout Troop #421 or Sally on her 11th birthday. The answer will not be yes.
7. Being catcalled or whistled at randomly while walking through a stadium. Sure, it may make our egos swell for a good ten seconds, but then it gets sort of creepy and just gross. Especially if you find the same drunken bald dude in a Hideki Irabu jersey following you from the beer vendor to the cotton candy stand. I doubt, strongly, that anyone has ever scored by starting a relationship with “Hey baby, nice knockers.” If you want our attention, come talk to us. With words. Not crude tongue gestures. That goes out to you, arguably homeless man on the corner of 14th Street and First Avenue.
8. When we are teased for commenting about the mascot, uniforms, or hotness of any particular team or player. These are essential elements to the game, which make our spectatorship all the more enjoyable. Do not take this away from us. You are lucky we like sports in the first place.
9. When you assume that we do not want to go to the game with you. We probably do. We would probably have a lot of fun together, even if you (wrongly) think that your boy, Bob from high school, would be more entertaining. And we would probably get pretty wasted and put out afterward. Which we hope that Bob does not do.
10. When you share your stories of little league glory, fantasy triumph, and high school holiness and do not expect us to do the same. Please. We have also stolen home and hit one out and scored the game-winner. Grab a bottle of wine or six, invite us into your fantasy league, and let’s discuss.