The kings are like the semi-good-looking girl you can find at any bar who knows her fair share of sports history and statistics.
She's loud, she's stacked, and she wins more than she loses when she calls her bookie. She's in her early 30s, but she clearly still has game. The only reason you haven't asked her out is because she looks a little mannish. She's kind of the "horse-face" variety of good-looking; she turns heads, but if she were riding a horse there might be a question of who has the longest face. And this quality is mildly horrifying. Still, she isn't a "cougar" (Lakers), so you allow yourself to work up a little intrigue.
When you finally do ask her out, she is able to play her cards well for about two or three months. But after that, the suitcases start filling the room like it's coming off the baggage claim conveyor belt at the airport. Any positives she exhibits are annihilated by the fact that she is a megalomaniacal basket case, complete with more daddy hang-ups than the dressing room of a strip club. Once the butt-sniffing stage is over, she unleashes an unprecedented litany of demands on you, embarrasses you with arguments in front of your friends, and you slowly begin to recognize the fact that her smile is like a dry wall screw that is tenuously holding the shattered fragments of her life together.
Her prowess at the bar is a cover for Kardashian-level dysfunction. Eventually, she begins policing you on social media. She asks about every girl you add, and monitors your feed. In this way she is like an air-traffic controller; nudging any potential collisions onto an alternate course (i.e., away from you). The confrontations you have with her smack of Charlie Sheen and Anne Coulter.
For some, her looks, talents, and abilities are worth the drama. But you know that by the end of the season she is going to be as functional and charming as a family fight just after a train wreck.
My advice: admire from a distance, and stick with younger prospects.
