Erin Andrews is a very good sideline reporter for ESPN. She’s also a pretty girl. Because of the low-percentage of good-looking women involved in sports, she is put on an ridiculous pedestal. It’s getting out of hand. It’s not that she isn’t attractive, I just don’t see why she’s treated like a goddess. Most sports fans talk about her like the sight of her ass could have prevented 9/11.
Most of my friends are sports fans, so they know all about Erin, and often they’ll tell me exactly what lengths they would go to just to date her. “Man, I’d give up my right nut to go out with her just once!” Really? Are you that sure that this girl would date a one-nutted guy? She could have her pick of dudes. Athletes, actors, CEOs….all two-nutted. She doesn’t have to settle on a single-nut. Erin Andrews could probably go for a three to four nut guy, if she wanted to. She could go up to as many nuts as her heart desired. She could show up to the Super Bowl with some bow-legged dude with what appears to be a bowling ball-sized scrotum. “Hey guys, this is Harold. I know he’s not the best looking, but the fact that he has fourteen testicles is a status symbol I could not pass up.”
I could see her dating a guy with one nut. I’m sure she’s not so shallow as to disqualify some guy based on his one-nuttitude. What I couldn’t see her doing is dating a guy who just gave up his nut to date her. He would have had to lose his nut to cancer, or a heroic accident, or something cool or brave. Not some chump who was too much of a loser to charm her without losing a testicle. Any guy could do that.
For example: I gave up my nut just to date this girl. Needy and pathetic. I lost my nut saving babies from a fire while fighting a leopard who wanted to eat the babies. That will get you them digits.
Then again, this whole fantasy of giving up your right nut to date Erin Andrews is based around the assumption that there’s someone out there who could facilitate this arrangement. Some billionaire who pays hot women to date losers while at the same time harvesting nuts. Even if I wanted to lose a nut to date this girl, there’s no way I’d even want to set this deal up with some freakish nut-collecting billionaire. I imagine some old man in a top hat and underwear opening his front door, holding a bag of balls. His harem awkwardly mills around. Some kind of bizarre German techno blares in the background. What are the odds THAT guy takes a personal check?
I guess what I’m saying is, would you really want to go to that testicle prospector’s house and give him your nut just to take a cute ESPN sideline reporter out for ice cream and two hours of awkward conversation about how you both love going to the movies? I don’t think so, good friend. Save your marble and settle for Michelle Tafoya.