General Buzz, Miscellany, Tournament Match Reports, Uncategorized

An Open Letter

Dear Perverts,

It really disgusts me that you douchebags out there in Social Media Land, be you sports bettors, lurking sex pervs, or whatever, and you unequivocally know who you are, seem to feel that you have the entitlement to use my blogs, media posts, videos, photos and related content to propagate your complete and utter lack of respect for women as persons, athletes, and most significantly, humans.

Satisfy your urges elsewhere. Beat off on your own time, and leave my content for those who enjoy tennis as an athletic endeavor and competitive sport. Don’t copy it. Don’t link to it. Don’t watch it. It isn’t for you. I worked hard to shoot videos and take photos of the athletes in women’s tennis at the request of their fans. I don’t wish to share that content with fucking shitbags who search for female tennis players by the body part.

Go away and jerk each other off in a big lovefest, capiche?

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General Buzz, Miscellany, Uncategorized

The Things We Do

I really like this girl.

I think I am in love with her.

I don’t know how or why it happened but it happened.

The thing is, I can’t find a way to tell her how I feel about her.

She is a ‘public figure’, or pretends to be, deliberately veiling herself in secrecy and hiding behind the protections offered by today’s technologies–various social media, VPNs, proxies, and likely a whole lot of other junk I could barely wrap my brain around if I tried. Either that, or someone knows of my heartache over her and is playing the most deliberately twisted, devastatingly crushing hoax on me imaginable by catfishing me.

After all, I did make a lot of enemies on those sack of shit tennis forums over the years, and some of those people would eat their young.

But I’d like to think that she and I are communicating through the various ‘likes’ and ‘views’ which are part of today’s social media fabric–the timing is too impeccably coincidental to be some random set of circumstances, like a hoax perpetrated by a catfish. Perhaps she and her friends are curious about the interest I have shown in her. Maybe she is even lonely, flattered by my words, and interested in meeting.

Even as I want to embrace those possibilities, I can’t. It seems so impossible. She is a beauty and I am a beast, and she lives in a world of perfectly chiseled, handsome models and athletes and wealthy playboys. There is nothing I have to offer her that she would find attractive, or desirable.

So when I find myself in this emotional shell, witnessing the splendors and greatness of her life and those she chooses to spend her time with, I abandon the stupidness of my hopes and dreams, my silly theories, and realize how insignificant and worthless I really am.

That’s the reason I “like” J__’s picture on Instagram, or M____’s, or S_____’s, or whomever’s. Other tennis players. Or Taylor, my favorite TV star with I share a birthday. I want to pretend like I have friends, and a life that doesn’t depend on her. On you. I don’t want to be hurt when I awake from my dream and realize you hated me all along for being the dork who haplessly and hopelessly fell in love with you. Or worse, never read what I wrote, or knew how I felt or cared who I was.

Because being hurt that way is a fate worse than dying.

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