Being a single woman is tough. There are a million guys out there and all you need is just one good one, but no matter what you do it feels like the hardest thing to do.
In the past I’ve explained how living in the San Francisco Bay Area makes it hard to be a NASCAR fan because NASCAR didn’t start here and so people are more than likely to look at me crazy when I tell them that I’m into it. But then add in dating to the mix and it’s whole other story.
The thing is I don’t feel like I need to explain myself. It’s one thing if I’m asked about how I became a fan and all that, but having to explain why I am one is kinda annoying. It feels like I’m being asked to explain why I was in prison that one time (I was never in prison, this is just an example people), like I’ve done something so odd and strange and out of character that there must be some crazy story behind it. Frankly, anyone that’s a fan of sports can be a fan of NASCAR but that’s another blog post for another day.
The bottom line is I can’t be with someone who’s going to tease me (or attempt to tease me) about being a racing fan. It’s just not going to work. I’ll get annoyed and even though they’ll apologize or say something to make up for it, it’s already out there and it’s going to bother me. If you can’t respect my interests then I can’t deal with you.
I met a guy recently who races motorcycles, so you’d think he’d get it. Oh, no. He was a total racing snob. He didn’t think that racing on a super speedway took skill — this from a man who’s never driven a race car before.
I don’t know. It seems like guys always have to act like they know everything. I wish they’d learn that it’s ok if they don’t know everything, that we’ll still like them even if they don’t. You don’t have to prove yourself at every moment and you just look stupid when you try to tell me everything about a sport that I watch every weekend and read about almost everyday.
So anyway, in conclusion, all I have to say is that I hope someday (soon please!) that I can meet a guy who digs NASCAR (or at least doesn’t feel the need to belittle it) and we’ll live happily ever after.