I, like any hormonal, heterosexual teenage girl, would love to one day lick the abs of the human god that is Cristiano Ronaldo. 
 
I mean just look at them.
 
Yum.
 
But as of today, I have decided to stop idolizing this perfect man-statue whose proportions rival those of the archetypal David.


I was never personally overwhelmed with Michelangelo’s representation of masculine perfection. I prefer more pecs, less pubes.
 
So why have I decided to stop liking CR7? After all, I’ve proudly donned his surname-ladden Real Madrid jersey in public for years now. So QUÉ PASA??
 
Well, it’s more of a couple small things that have sort of tugged at my Ronaldo-adoring conscience over time rather than one big thing.  And I’d like to preface this with a gentle reminder that I (obviously) don’t know Cristiano Ronaldo personally, nor should I ever pretend to. Do remember, kind reader, that no matter what observation I make, I am still just a dumb teenager living seven time zones away from the man. This I know.
 
First of all, he has a kid. Nobody knows he has a kid because he’s never with his kid.  
 



This is what comes up when you Google “Cristiano Ronaldo Junior”. BODY LANGUAGE, PEOPLE. BODY LANGUAGE. 
 
I believe that when you become a parent, you take on the responsibility to not only financially, Mr. Ronaldo, but emotionally, spiritually, and physically care for him/her. Hell, you should WANT to! He’s your son! You felt a close enough personal connection to name him Cristiano Junior, why don’t I ever see pictures of you hugging the boy? HMMM???
 
Side note: Junior is the son of some American waitress whom Cristiano Ronaldo impregnated on a trip to the U.S. in 2009 or 2010 or something. The details are well hidden. I don’t so much care about this one, but do with it what you will.
 
Now this one bothers me. Much more than the American baby mama. He doesn’t manage his own Twitter page. At all. I don’t think he’s ever tweeted a single tweet himself. Twitter has unlocked unprecedented opportunities for celebrities to communicate with their fans. Real people, on either end of the line. Just chattin’ away like a couple of pals. AND HE HIRED SOMEBODY TO DO IT FOR HIM. Bye.
 
Third, the man is VAIN AS HELL. He has a museum dedicated to himself. 
 
Not kidding.
 
Fourth, his Russian supermodel girlfriend, Irina Shayk. 
 
Now here is a woman who has managed to take advantage of one of the most famous men in the entire world for her own $ benefit $. How do you say “I ‘love’ you” in Russian? 
 
Even you deserve love, Cristiano. Maybe you should spend less time posing half (or full) nude with your famous girlfriend and a little more time at home watching Sesame Street dubbed in Portuguese with your son.
 
SUMMARY:
 
Nothing about this man is real. (Except for those abs, clearly sculpted by the hands of angels.) He’s a vain, egotistical, selfish, narcissistic, man-boy who is in it for the fame, the money, and the lifestyle. I know for a fact that it’s possible to be rich, famous, and real as hell. Nowadays, I’m not taking any excuses for not finding that true superstar balance. 
 
I’ll keep cheering for Ronaldo as long as he keeps scoring goals for Real Madrid. But the day he leaves the Bernabéu, I just might do a silent little happy dance deep down inside.

Written by Catherine Goetze

Catherine Goetze www.cathincollege.com Find me on social media! Facebook: www.facebook.com/cathincollege Twitter: @catherinegoetze Instagram: @catherinegoetze SnapChat: @catherinegoetze Contact me: cathincollege@gmail.com

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