Wrestling with "The Wrestler"

Amidst of all the hype for Mickey Rourke and The Wrestler, I am pretty sure that I'm utterly alone in my opinion.
Are there ANY like-minded critics who recognize the problems for women that this film conjers?

First, how many times must one sympathize with dead-beat dads?

The scenes with Mickey Rourke and his onscreen daughter are very touching, but the Ram/ Randy/ the wrestler drops the ball on this burgeoning relationship BIG TIME. However, one is made to feel sorry for HIM.

And why?
Because he has lost his place on the chest-beating, tarzan-hollering patriarchal throne of his glory days?

boo-hoo.

Also, the viewer is led to believe that the daughter character is a lesbian. I am insulted that the film dares to make the patronizing leap from "girl with daddy issues" to "lesbian." People are not born with daddy issues. People are born gay.

Last, but certainly not least, how many times are female actors going to be lauded for their roles as strippers?

With so few substantial and authentic roles available for actresses, I feel as though the "stripper with a heart of gold" role has been manipulated into being the pinnacle for showcasing female talent.
In film, stripping is not represented as a skill or talent that has gotten women through college.

Instead, our perception of Marisa Tomei's character is dictated by the reactions to those around her-
"poor old stripper- the horny young white guys think she's an old joke."
Are such representations of meathead-mentality fit to guide our sympathies?

As my husband always says: boo-freakin'-hoo, toots.