Ballgames, Small Towns, and Nuts in My Mouth

 

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he population of Vancouver proper is something like 650,000 people.  And of those 650,00 there were approximately 5000 people who showed up to the Vancouver Canadians game.  And of those 5000 people, there were at least 5 people that I knew, not including my date Kevin Bacon.  There was a dude I went to High School with, a girl from an old softball team, two girls from my most recent softball team and at least one Twitter follower.  And they were all there separately too.  It was like a physical representation of my Six Degrees of SSDated theory.  In the flesh.  And oddly enough THIS isn’t where Kevin Bacon got his name.  That came later. After.

So there I was, standing outside the stadium with free tickets in hand, admittedly a tad overdressed.  I was wearing a white maxi dress and I know what you’re thinking you wore a dress to a ballgame??  But in defense, it was too hot for pants, and the only non scrubby shorts I had at the moment didn’t fit quite right aka I would’ve spent the whole night pulling them up and being fidgety.  This was, at least I looked hot, overdressed or not.  Plus it’s the summer yo.  Dresses are in.

Waiting for my date, I spotted a friend from softball.  Who proceeded to walk up to me and say something like I can’t believe you’re here!!! I thought we were going to go to a game together!!!  Now I know what you’re thinking.  SSDated, that’s a pretty fucking boring tidbit of information.  Did you really need to tell us that??  And the answer is yes.  Because of the action that was performed while she shouted this.  The #Tatslap (as we later called it).  With two hands held flat she proceeded to slap my cleavage.  One hand per tit.  Same time.  Slap slap slap.  Slap slap slap slap slap.  Slap slap.  I might have been less surprised if we had been at a bar or a nightclub.  I mean, people touch my boobs inappropriately more often than you’d think.  But it was 645pm on a bright summer evening…it was fucking daylight.  There were kids and families and boys everywhere.  Everyone was looking.  She was oblivious.  I was mortified.

Luckily she stumbled off before Kevin Bacon arrived, and we he did we headed inside and straight for the concessions.  I mean what’s a baseball game without nuts and hotdogs, and all the extensive innuendo and witty repartee that goes with food shaped like or named after genitalia.  I mean seriously.  I also got a fountain soda.  Yes, I am Canadian.  Yes, I do say soda.  I’m just charming like that :P.  And you’ll notice I said fountain, because the truth is, I like it better that way.  Soda, on ice, is less fizzy, and just the way I like it.  He was taking notes.  As a good dude should.  And then he paid.  Like a gentleman.  Or because I had gotten the tickets, though free.  Either way, a meal was had and not on my dime.  Dating was going swell.

We found our seats at one of the most packed Canadians games I’ve ever been to.  Wedged in between a row of hot boys and my date wasn’t a bad situation though, so it was all good.  Not long into the game I checked my phone.  There was a tweet from @Singlevanblonde.  Something like Is that you in the gold leaf earrings??  And to be honest my first thought was holy shit who is your optometrist because I need to get into to see him asap if he can make anyone see that while.  My second thought was…I’m a celebrity!!!!  My third thought, being the most rational and un-dick-like was holy fucking shit! and where are you sitting.

To be fair, I had mentioned to her before the game that I was going, and also the truth…which is that if you know what to look for (chubby bunny, big boobs, big smile, big teeth, big personality?) I’m easy to spot in a crowd.  I asked where she was sitting but after not spotting her with ease (after all, a red shoe for an avi was all I had to go on)…I figured we’d meet another time and went back to focusing on the game and my date.  I mentioned all this to my date which led to a discussion about Twitter and that was when I confirmed that his ex was in fact following me on Twitter and a regular reader.  He honestly didn’t seem very surprised.

Detour.  I am not a very private person.  This should be obvious with the blog and the rampant tweeting but nonetheless that’s still “online life” and I feel it necessary to confirm I’m exactly as I appear, in real life too.  I’m not sure I’ve asked anyone to keep a secret ever.  About anything.  Seriously, I think never.

Detour 2.  I was already super skeeved out about his ex reading the blog (not to mention I still was not completely sold on it being an innocent coincidence but more on that later).  Even worse than her reading the blog would be if she knew that it was him I was dating (and/or conversely that he was dating me).  And the finale, the worst of worsts, the stickiest and most icky of situations??? would be if she knew who ME was…like if Alfred told the Gotham Gazette the true identity of Batman.

Back on Track.  Because of the reasons just given above, I asked Kevin Bacon, explicitly and without any confusion, to keep this information to himself.  Not to reveal my real life identity, not to reveal that he was dating me, not to reveal anything.  Nothing.  Nada.  No reveal.  The one secret I’ve possibly ever asked.  To be kept.  Silent.  *finger to lips secret keeping gesture*

The night went on.  The ballgame was good.  The chatter flowed.  Though I’ll admit touching was decidedly missing.  Unlike with The Vampire, with whom there had been lots of adorable and at the perfectly right time kind of touching, there was almost none with Kevin Bacon.  And this being a second date, it was a bit weird.  Not to mention his issue about outer beauty and attraction coming up again.  The truth is I might come back to this issue at a later date but at the moment I find it so tedious I can’t get into it except to say that if you can’t tell your girlfriend you think she’s beautiful (even if it’s because she’s an amazing person and you see the beauty in that)…you’re misguided and probably not for me.

But like I’d listen to logic on a second date.  Fuck that noise.  After the game he walked me to my car.  It still seemed pretty early and with the possibility that he was waiting for me to indicate an interest, I asked if he wanted to grab a drink or a coffee or something.  I would love to he said except I have to be at blah blah something about an event yada yada yada trying to formulate a business relationship but another time?? etc. etc. etc.  Disappointing.  But then at my car we talked for probably another 20 minutes easily…long past when all of the other cars had left.  And then came the best sign of all.  He was booking the third date.  So do you…uh…watch movies?  He asked.

About which I obviously mocked him…who doesn’t watch movies?? I laughed…apparently there are real people who do this.  Obviously they’re ridiculous.  I bet they don’t watch TV.  Or laugh either.  No Fun Nellies.  But I digress.  We made plans.  For the next Wednesday.  Put it in his phone.  A man who makes plans.  Locked in.  We all know I fucking love that.  And with that it was another……hug……*sigh*……and he was off.  And I was left wondering.  No kiss?  That can’t be good.  Was he a gentleman waiting for a more private location (aka a movie theatre?) or was this a sign he wasn’t into me???  I’d have to wait and see I guess.

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Victoria Young

Writer. Dater. Masturbator. Stop ruining my jokes by believing the self-deprecation. I am far greater than your boner will ever know.