Monday, December 24, 2012

He WON'T sleep with Truffles the Ring Rat??

The following article was a little hard to write for me. See, because I'm a woman, I have to carefully meter out the truth in a way that doesn't make me sound like a jealous, stuck up bitch. Believe me, I can't stand ring rats and want nothing to do with either they or what they own.

But to my astonishment, it looks like I'm not alone.

For those who don't follow wrestling, let me catch you up to speed.

A Ring Rat is a person (usually female but I have met male and transgender ones) who claims to be a wrestling fan, but is only there to watch the large, more muscular men, get sweaty, strip down to the bare minimum of clothing and beat the hell out of people. She doesn't know his name, despite the fact that the announcer just screamed it into the microphone at a volume that can deafen the surrounding area, all she knows is that he looks "hawt".

Ring Rats are rude to other fans, but suddenly act all sweet and innocent around their favorite wrestlers, keep to their own little cliques of people, hog all the sinks in the women's bathroom, push other fans out of their paid-for seats, drape their boobs over the guardrail, invite themselves backstage and try to sleep with as many people as possible.

They don't just sleep with wrestlers, they'll sleep with other fans, referees, ring announcers, and just about anybody they think will grant them a leg up into the world of wrestling. Often, they'll prostitute themselves out for jewelry, tickets, free rides and on occasion, they'll try to do this, to get as much free training as possible, so they can one day (in their minds) go to the WWE and become famous Divas.

Her dream would be to marry the WWE champion. Why? Because wwe.com says they like make money and stuff.

How do I know this is how Ring Rats are?

Because unfortunately for me, they never shut the holy hell up at the wrestling shows I go to, and sometimes sit behind me at different restaurants, despite my endless pleading.

That's right! The average Ring Rat is PROUD of what she does. She boasts about using people faster than runny noses use Kleenex, she posts on Tout and Twitter about the guys like they're pieces of meat, and believe it or not ~ they have STUDENTS!!

I have never really had a reason to blog about them though, since (I thought) most of what could have been said has already been posted by people (read: wrestlers) who know all to well about these creatures of the night. But this week was different.

I don't always wear my reading glasses, but when I'm having troubles with writing or when I'm working on websites, I will put them on.

That's exactly what I did the other night. I put them on, because I was certain my eyes were playing tricks on me. I had to have made a mistake somewhere. I thought I had seen the first sign of the apocalypse, but quickly reminded myself that the Mayans were great big fibbers.

But upon putting the plastic frames on, I discovered that I wasn't seeing things at all. In fact my vision could not have been any more clear.

It happened.

Two, single, heterosexual men from the United States of America, had simultaneously emailed me, telling me the story of why they completely despise ring rats.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

But they were not alone. Before I went to bed, I saw a few more posts from guys, all single, all posting on Facebook about how obnoxious these creatures are, and how they can't stand when a girl acts like a monumental slut.

I sat back in my chair, pondering the universe. Truly... this is the time of miracles.

Now for those who don't understand why I just said that, let me be very clear. I'm about to say things that are sexist in nature, and I want to apologize here and now before I say them.

My entire life, I have come across guy after guy after guy, who talk non-stop about women. How they wish a girl would "just bang them already" how hot the Divas are, women that they have banged and left, so I've always had this idea that a good chunk of the male population just don't give a damn about who they're with.

I have met some exceptions to the rule, and I can point out which rosters they are currently on, but they represent less than 400 people in the world and most of them are married. You can guess that with the exception of 15, all of them are currently active in the world of wrestling.

Furthermore, with the exception of the under 400, I often see guys marry and date women who look like ugly, little boys. Several blogs ago, I pointed out how Kelly Kelly and Justin Bieber have a similar body frame.

Just remove the plastic man-grabbers, cut the hair and you have the Canadian teen idol. Even their noses are similar.

So when I hear guys all the time going on and on about women, and then they end up with very manly women, I can't help but imagine that they just don't care who they get. Even a Ring Rat seems "doable" to the average male.

If you watch MTV, you'll see where this sexist and moronic idea comes from. You'll see a parade of guys, talking about how disposable women are, and as I've blogged before, women are raised to believe that that is what you are.

Disposable.

At some point, a guy will forget he ever knew you. Even his own mother isn't safe.

Like most women, I grew up with this idea that men don't want a good girl.

Oh sure, they'll "claim" that's what they want, but it's a great big lie. A guy will tell you to your face how he wishes he had a good girl, someone who'd love him for who he is, hang out with him and eventually have kids with. But that's never who he dates, sleeps with or even marries. Not even close.

And when they're not dating ex-men and escaped convicts, they're talking about the extra slutty Divas and talking about how they'd love to be surrounded by women who wear underwear all day and then bang 'em and leave 'em. They talk like they want to hang around Ring Rats all day and all night.

So imagine my shock when all of a sudden, nobody wants that anymore.

Imagine the look on my face, when I'm reading letter after letter from guys ~ single and straight ~ confiding in me to what levels of hate they have for these extra slutty women.

The last email I read was from a guy who was dying to know.

Where do Ring Rats come from?

The answer is a simple one, but I promise you.... you're going to hate it.

A while ago, I blogged about where Divas come from and then again about the shows and toys that perpetuate where the makeup and clothing come from. I recommend reading both, so you can pinpoint where most of this comes from.

As for Ring Rats? It gets worse.

I'll tell you a story about Truffles. I hope that's not her real name, because if it is, I now have ANOTHER reason to slap her parents.

Truffles is one of several Ring Rats I've had the sincere displeasure of meeting. I'm fairly certain Truffles is her name, it's hard to tell when she's drunk and says her name in a fake Californian-Jersey accent.

Once upon a time, during a Jell-O shot induced haze in the 1980's, Truffles was born to her fat, mullet-headed father who once sat 16 rows away from me and still had enough stank on him to mow over the entire ringside area, and to her mother, the over-the-hill weirdo who sticks her ass out at people, claiming "she's still got it" in a failed attempt to out dance everybody at the after party.

When Truffles was growing up, her parents didn't care what she was watching, as long as she was out of their hair. These people wouldn't let her touch a video game, believing all the techno-phobic hype from the coalitions, but they were totally fine with her watching Jem and playing with Lil Miss Makeup dolls.
When Truffles was 5, her father let her watch WWF, but she mostly remembers Superstars, which came on Saturday mornings and was focused on the male wrestlers. This is when she noticed that the females fawning over Shawn Michaels at ringside, got special treatment. The WWF cameras would focus in on them as they fluff their crimped, peroxide-blonde hair, and sometimes they would be allowed backstage with all their favorite wrestlers. Truffles thought this was cool.

When Truffles was 8 and a half years old, her father took her to a WWF show. And that's when she saw Sunny.

Sunny didn't have to wrestle. Sunny didn't even have to cheer her guys on in the ring. All Sunny had to do was prance around in a tiny outfit, and the world was her very own.

Truffles heard the adults making rude comments about Sunny. Only it didn't register in her mind as "rude" she thought it was just water-cooler talk. (Her parents never taught her manners. Neither did the school system.) She heard people saying that Sunny gets ahead in life by being a slut. Now that's a very strong opinion for an adult to spew out in front of a child, but Truffles never thought about whether or not that was fair.

Instead, Truffles heard her life calling.

Before she even hit puberty, Truffles knew that the sluttier you are, the more stuff you get! Why, I can be like Barbie! Just bat my eyelashes, wear skimpy clothes and a vat of makeup, and then I can have all the jewelry,  cool stuff and living Ken and G.I. Joe dolls I want!!

Encouraging Truffles was the media. Truffles grew up listening to sugary pop songs about explicit sex, sung by the latest Boy Bands and Pop Princesses.

Her parents still don't seem to care or notice when at 14, she started packing cheap, generic, dollar store and mostly China made contraceptives in her purse. As long as she wasn't bugging them, they didn't care what she did.

Truffles grew up and dressed down in a hurry, and then started going to wrestling shows.

A few years ago, I met Truffles at an ROH show, bitching in the bathroom that NONE of the ROH boys wanted shit to do with her. NONE. They made it crystal clear that this was unacceptable behavior, and they were not going to let her backstage.

"BUT it's not fair!" Whined Truffles as I was trying to wash my hands. "At all the WWE shows, I can go back there with ANYBODY."

Against my will, I then heard several, unspeakable tales I never asked for, about people that are on my old trading cards. I'm not going to name any names here, but suffice to say that all of them have action figures, and it's really uncomfortable watching the old Wrestlemania tapes when a certain ring announcer introduces the combatants. *Shivers*

A few weeks later, Raw was in town. To my horror and astonishment, I saw Truffles on television. She never did become a WWE Diva, but I heard through the grapevine that she tried getting into developmental, and was a rent-a-bitch for a segment. Less like an employee and more like a random photo-bomber that the commentary made a remark about. I can't remember who this was for, but I have it on tape somewhere.

Years go by, and Truffles tries to use her wiles to get wherever she wants to go. But after a while, the act goes stale. And like most of the trash, she is discarded, save but for WWE shows, and a handful of ultra seedy places. (Oh, I have another Punishing Pete story here, but I'll save that.)

I last saw Truffles two years ago, drunk, and telling me this entire life story of hers against my will.

As I pushed her OFF of my table for the third time in less than 5 minutes, I noticed she had deep lines on her face, left over from wearing makeup from the age of 7. She had glitter all over the place and was wearing a skirt that couldn't even cover her thong. She looked like a haggard old zombie, and had all the charm and decorum of the Crypt Keeper on acid. This scared me, because I did the math, Truffles is only a year and a half older than me. (I'm 26.) But already, Truffles was old, and nobody wanted her around.

Ring Rats take on all sizes, shapes and forms, and come from all walks of life. Rich, poor, it never matters. These creatures have been raised to believe that the more easy you are, the better your life is.

Is this new? No way, not by a long shot. Back in the days of Fabulous Moolah, they existed back then too. They just didn't have any cute names like "Diva" to describe them. Instead, they were the gals that didn't last long in wrestling, on account of they had nothing to offer. On the rare chance that one of them did get into the ring, they didn't have long careers, unless they married the champion or the promoter ~ and those marriages rarely lasted, having been based on hormones.

So how do you stop Ring Rats from ruining everything? The answers are simple, and have already been developed by wrestlers.

The first thing the guys can do, is to respect their own bodies. Again, there are a ton of wrestlers already ahead of the game, so this is for everyone.

Dudes, condoms can't stop every STD that's out there. Just as you show respect for your muscles by working out, you should also show respect for the rest of your body by NOT ~ I repeat ~ NOT sleeping with everything that moves.

Ignore how lonely the road is. Ignore how horny you are. It's not worth it. Use your hand and keep away from the Ring Rats. It's usually the clean-looking ones that have the most wrong with them.

Show respect for the locker-room too. Stop letting these creatures of the night back there.

The backstage area is sacred ground to most wrestlers. It's the last place on Earth a guy can get ready before his match, and traditionally it's only for wrestlers, other workers and their families. If you wouldn't let your daughter around a Ring Rat, don't let anybody else around them either. Show respect for this area by keeping the Rats OUT!

Ladies, have respect for your own bodies. There's nothing more gross than making it to old age, and having your greatest achievement be that you were once a living Kleenex.

And show some respect for these guys! They're not pieces of meat, they are human beings.

But most of all, the best way to stop a Ring Rat is to not create one in the first place. And this is why I want to talk to the parents out there. Specifically Mr. and Miss Truffles's Parents.

Shame on you.

Shame on you that you never told your daughter ~ I HOPE your only child ~ how to respect her body. That Sunny's being slutty was supposed to be a gimmick ~ NOT a suggestion!

Shame on you that you let her watch every program marked "child friendly" by the coalitions, and never once saw an episode and wondered if this was the right thing for her.

Shame on you that your idea of "the talk" was an episode of Jerry Springer and a copy of The Little Mermaid, that you let the television set raise her while you were out heckling the wrestlers about what you think of their business.

And shame on you for ever breeding. My God do you even own a mirror??

If more parents would raise their daughters to respect themselves, instead of letting the TV set do it for them, this wouldn't be such an overgrown problem.

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