A metaphor for Cleveland Sports…

Most guys aren’t players. But you know how every once in awhile things just fall into place for you? It’s like, you’re out BS-ing with a buddy, and you’re not even trying to meet a girl, then- poof! There she is. And so you talk to her for awhile. No big deal if it doesn’t stick. After all, she came to you. And you’re just hanging out having a good time with friends.

But here’s the thing… you tell a joke, and she actually laughs. Girls never laugh at your jokes. What’s going on here? So you keep saying mindless crap, and she’s eating it up. It’s like the cosmos are finally rewarding you for every time you were dumped, hurt, or slapped across the face for something inappropriate your buddy said then blamed on you. Someone actually likes you.

So you play it cool. No need to rush it. These things are delicate. But eventually, as the bar lights grow bright, it’s time to make a move. So you invite her to an all night cafe. She, instead suggests her place. And you’re thinking, “I love you.”

Of course, you don’t actually say that, because that’d weird her out and you want to play this cool as previously stated. So you hail a cab and head back to her place. And you make out with her the whole way there. It’s better than you thought it’d be, and it’s got you thinking what it’d be like to experience the ultimate with her. And not long after, you get your chance…

You’re in her apartment. She disrobes, and calls you to her, slowly curling her index and middle finger. She says, “I want you.” And you respond the only way you know how… “I think I’m just gonna go home.”

Doesn’t make any sense, does it? But that’s exactly what Cleveland sports teams do every year.

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