Mark! v. The Tyra Banks Show

One night at Neutral Ground, a place for NYC gamers to hang out, a rep from the Tyra Banks show came in looking for guys. It seems that a woman had written the show that her relationships never worked out. The show wanted to take her outside her “comfort zone” in order to introduce her to men she wouldn’t normally meet. Sounds like a great idea. There are plenty of nice people out there, but knowing where to find them can be difficult. The Banks show’s plan was to set this woman up with a series of five-minute speed dates with select people at NG. I gladly agreed to take part, not because I wanted to go on a blind speed date (How much can you learn about a person in that time? Only if you think they’re physically attractive), but I wanted to let people who watch the show know that there are fun guys out there, you just had to think outside the box to find them. Of course a problem was that I have never seen the show.Tyra was a supermodel. That much I knew, along with the fact that when she first got into the business a more established model was making her life miserable. I assumed by this that Tyra had become a compassionate individual and used her show to help others. Apparently, she uses it to dress up in a fat suit for a couple of hours and then complain that people ignored/were mean to her during that time. Note: She complained about this to actual obese people, you know, the ones that can’t take off the suit and have never been paid a fortune to have their picture taken. Anyway, back to the story. I was told that the show wanted to set this young woman up with someone she wouldn’t normally meet i.e. not the jerks she usually dates. I was misinformed. Whatever the motives were the result was that this person wanted to find someone as close to the trash she normally dated. Newsflash, Sweetness, if a train wreck occurs because some mustachioed villain ties you to the track, then it isn’t your fault. If the train wreck IS your life because you’re the conductor and decided to blind fold yourself, put the engine in high gear, and let ‘er rip, then you’ve no one else to blame. The show had me introduce myself to her, welcome her to NG and escort her to the staged meeting. During my five minutes I was suppose to explain about the games I dealt with and only then get to know her and discuss myself. Yeah, five minutes ought to do. To make matters worse, since I was told she was looking for someone different, I figured I’d leave out my “bad boy” activities like surfing, skateboarding, fencing, martial arts, etc (you know, the closest things I do to cool) for the time. When a producer was shocked that I didn’t mention them, I brought up what they had told me. No matter, the guy overhearing me made sure to mention his manly activities. PS Guess who got the girl? All this is largely irrelevant as the train wreck wasn’t particular interesting or pretty. Yes, feel free to discount everything I write as sour grapes. Sure, she said she was a yoga instructor and a dancer, but I’ve dated a yoga instructor before, and they are usually insightful. And as to dancer, her demeanor projects “lap”. I have to admit that she was a terrific actress. I’ve never seen anyone with the ability to feign interest with a camera on and then be such a complete jerk when it was off (well, there was that roommate of an ex of mine, but that’s more just being twofaced). Perhaps my favorite moment was when, between takes, I asked her if she liked my shirt. It was just given to me by my friend Victoria and I thought the image of a little boy sharing ice cream with the grim reaper was cute. Her response was the most sour faced look possible followed by an “Uck, I suppose it’s scary” before walking away to clog the bathroom and not tell anyone about the mess. Apparently, all the donkey punches had scrambled her brain. The whole situation got very old very quickly. I don't think anyone was happy that night. The girl had to pick one of us to “date” and I’m sure she wasn’t thrilled with the choices. The gentleman who “won” had to tell the camera that he thought she was attractive and sexy, which must have been hard if you compared her to the half dozen stunning Goth girls who were hanging out that night at NG. NG probably wasn’t pleased that they disrupted operations for the sake of promotion when the show made us reshoot every line wherein someone mentioned the name of the establishment. I’m sure none of the participants were glad to be told that for the opening shot we should all turn and stare at the camera (as if it was the girl walking in) and bug out our eyes and drop our jaws as if we never expected to see such a beautiful sight walk in the door (I assume that means a female). And I? Was I happy? I thought I might have a moment to tell the world that great guys are out there and that woman don’t always have to stick with the same date raping, fraternity-jock they always meet in a bar (you know the place with low lights, loud music, and alcohol so you don’t have to see, hear, or think about the guy you’re with), but I never had the opportunity. Tyra Banks: you and your staff and show are disgraceful. Little Miss Train Wreck: you are a walking disaster who deserves what you get. As for me: I’m a nerd. I may not always get the girl, but I’m a terrific guy who’s generous, kind, smart, interesting, and always there for people. I’m proud of who I am. And maybe that’s enough to keep me happy.