Curiously enough, I dialed the number, and Michael Phelps did not answer. Turns out, someone wrote their friend’s number on the rock as a pretty funny joke. I believe the picture was taken in East Lansing, on Michigan State’s campus during welcome week, not too far down the road from Ann Arbor, once home of Phelps.
Over the past several weeks I have been told my numurous sources that Phelps is an arrogant ass hole that treats women/people like shit. Each time however, I have come to his defense, giving him the benefit of the doubt because he is from another planet, and everyone is a critic. Everyone that claims they would be this way or that if they were famous is full of shit because they are not famous, and never will be.
Most all the scenarios described to me regarding Phelps took place at college party. In these examples girl’s claim that all he wanted was to get laid,
“Are we going to fuck or what?”
There’s a big shocker, you see arguably the greatest olympian to ever walk the earth at a party and he isn’t in the mood for smalltalk. Imagine for a second you lived in a world where every piece of ass was handed to you on a platter, even more than that, everything outside of success in your life’s work was handed to you on a platter. Don’t be so foolish or self centered to believe you are worth his time, that there is something making you different/better than the thousands/millions of other girls throwing themselves at him on a daily basis.
The average guy does this, and we think nothing of it. Sure we like to think that people maintain character and remain humble regardless of their status, but it’s not very realistic. I know there are many shining examples of stars who “keep it real,” and always treat people genuinely well, but for someone like Phelps, it may not even be in his best interest.
Consider this: His crude way of treating people he casually encounters is a defense mechanism. Imagine being a household name at a young age; common people have difficulty gauging who their real friends are, put yourself in his shoes. Fame and fortune do not bring the best of friends, rather the opposite. It creates a plastic world that appears to be shiny and great, but like a house of cards when the going gets tough (dearly sorry for the cliche,) poof- it collapses on top of you. I can’t say that it would be in my best interest to handle the situation any other way. I suppose I could isolate myself and not enjoy the many pleasure of youth, fame and fortune, but that’s rediculous. If Phelps gave an honest effort to geniunely embrace all those he encountered, (not that it’s even possible), he would be spread so thin he would dissapear.
I am not ready to make up my mind on a guy based on the strangers he casually encountered. If I wanted to know if Michael Phelps was an asshole that treated people like shit, I would talk to his close friends, not girl 1/1,000,000 that wanted a piece of ass in the first place, and was hurt or degrated when all Phelps wanted was the same.