Raise your hand if you’ve been subjected to any of the following exclamations:

“Eww! Why do you keep checking the scores on your phone?”

“You spend more time with your fantasy baseball team than you do with me!”

“I always thought I’d be with a guy who liked to play sports, not watch them on T.V.”

It’s annoying, isn’t it? Hearing any of the above, or some other whiney derivation, is aggravating enough, but the fact that it comes in the form of a relentless attack against you and something you love just makes you want to pack up your shit and get the fuck out of Dodge, doesn’t it? What gives? They can spend their whole night gossiping on the phone with their friends or watching the Real Housewives of Who Gives a Shit or spend hours playing friggin’ Candy Crush, but when we turn our focus towards fantasy baseball, we’re suddenly the problem. The double standard in relationships is as inevitable as death and taxes.

So what’s my advice? Stay single.

Love and fantasy baseball just don’t mix.

Each one can bring you as much unbridled joy as it does misery. One day you’re flying so high that you’re impervious to all the shit the world throws at you and another, you’re taking a beating so severe you can’t fathom ever recovering. But to be successful, to achieve that consistent state of euphoria, both require a commitment so intense and so time-consuming, it makes coexistence in your life impossible. There are plenty of things in this world you can achieve with a half-assed effort, but neither love nor winning a fantasy baseball championship is among that group.

As a result, you have to choose. It’s one or the other. You can want both. Most of us probably do. But since you can’t have your cake and eat it too, you have to decide; not which one you want more, but which one is better for you. You have to weigh the pros and cons of each.  

In fantasy baseball, you study the players, you draft your team and from that wonderful seedling, you can cultivate a winning squad. Sometimes the six-month long season can be both grueling and nerve-wracking, but when you win, there’s nothing sweeter. You have bragging rights over your buddies. You have the respect of your peers. And maybe, just maybe, you even see a little money in the end. You can wear that championship smile from October through April and if you’re good enough and work hard enough, you can keep wearing that smile, not just all year long, but for years to come.

Love? Well, the beginning is definitely similar. You meet someone, you date for a while and you forge this romantic bond so strong that no mere mortal can ever fathom a love so pure. Everything is sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. Sometimes it can be a little nerve-wracking as you wait for your beloved to reveal their true colors but in the end, you’ve fallen head over heels and there’s just nothing sweeter.

Now unless you’ve romanced yourself a sugar-mama (or daddy in some cases), there’s no pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. But what you do get is regular sex. In fact, early on in the relationship, you can’t keep your hands off each other. Morning sex, nooners at the office…hell, you can roll over at 4am and find your way in. You happily walk around with that goofball Kool-Aid smile everywhere you go, but let’s face it, no matter how good you are at it…no matter how much “work” you put in…passion fades and that proud, shit-eating grin you once wore slowly fades to a sobering indifference as romance and dating turns to marriage.

Yeah, that’s right – marriage. There’s a reason it’s considered an institution. Hell, just look at some of the words that actually define “institution”: confinement, well-established, structured pattern, fundamental. Where’s the romance? Where’s the passion? Where’s the joie de vivre? Dating is like drafting Mike Trout, Paul Goldschmidt and Clayton Kershaw. Marriage is slowly watching them turn into Josh Hamilton, Billy Butler and Ricky Nolasco. When you’re dating you’ve got the bat speed of Miguel Cabrera and you’re hitting for extra bases every night. When you’re married, your dick is like Paul Janish – maybe you’ll get an at-bat if it’s a day game in September and there’s a lefty on the mound -- but even then she’s probably thinking about a pinch-hitter or at least hoping for a rain-out.

So now which one sounds better – devote yourself to a winning fantasy baseball team, be the envy of all your friends and make some money or devote yourself to someone else and end up married? Oh yeah, and don’t forget that with marriage comes the “blessing” of having kids. It’s like having a team of your very own, right? Well, not exactly. You spend years neck-deep in someone else’s shit while you’re changing diapers, they siphon all your money away and eventually they grow up to inform you that, according to their therapist, all of their problems in life are your fault. You can’t trade any of them and there’s no re-draft. It’s like a dynasty league of never-ending nightmares.

Take my word for it. If you hear any of the cries with which this column first began, run. Run fast. Run like Billy Hamilton if he were to ever hit one into Triples Alley at AT&T Park. Save yourself years of aggravation and disappointment. Focus on your team. Focus on your league. Your fantasy baseball team may let you down at times, but it will never ruin your life.