Are You Friggin' Kidding Me?

One Bostonian's Misadventures in Dating

The Baseball Date


Alright, so here’s another awkward date story. It’s double good because it was two dates. So here we go.

To preface this story, I should tell you that I am an obnoxious Red Sox fan. I mean…I’m BAD. I’m obsessed. Tattoo and everything. Ask me about it sometime.

So I had checked out this guy’s profile, but didn’t give it too much thought. Yes, I do online dating. I could do a whole post on why I choose to do online dating, but I don’t feel that’s the point of this post right now. Just go with it. Anyway, he ended up looking at my profile and sent me a message.

The message was HILARIOUS, in a good way. So I was like, what the hell? I decided to meet up with him on the Tuesday coming up (it was Sunday). We were going to meet up at a bar in my neighbourhood, watch the Red Sox, and grab some beers. Nothing crazy.

So on Monday, I’m actually out on a date with a different guy (shame on me, I know) and he calls me and leaves a voicemail. While in the bathroom, I listened and it just said “Hey, got something to tell you about tomorrow. Call me when you get this, doesn’t matter how late it is.” So immediately, I think I’m getting ditched, but I move on and continue on the date that I’m currently on.

By the way, the date I was on…so bad. So soooo bad.

Anyway, I’m walking home and I check my messages and the guy wrote back to me, as well as called. I checked his message and he wrote to tell me that his boss gave him tickets to the Red Sox-Yankees game, right behind home plate for the next night. He was asking if I’d be interested in going.

I hurriedly called him back and was like YES YES YES I will go!!

So the next day we meet at Fenway. Now, before I go any further, I must tell you that I do not hate gingers. I don’t. Do I make jokes at their expense? Yes. I’m sorry. This is horrible of me and maybe this was karma coming back to get me. But yes. The guy was a ginger. But, he had a ticket for me, so off we frolicked into Fenway park. Well, maybe I was the only frolicking.

He buys us beers and food and we camp out in our seats which were PERFECT. The date didn’t go too bad, which made me panic. “Oh my God…I can’t date a ginger, everyone will make fun of me because I made so much fun of gingers. Oh God…” But I tried to relax…who cares what he looks like if he’s awesome, right?

After the game (Sox lost…boo), we went to a bar in my neighbourhood. Got another beer or two and then we went our separate ways.

The next day we chatted a bit and I was stressed about finding a place to watch the game that night. Beckett was pitching and let’s face it…I’m obsessed with him. So the guy offered to have me come over and watch the game there. I stressed over this for a few hours…second date, at his house? That could be bad, right? YES. SO SO BAD.

I got all the way to his apartment in Southie and met his roommates (two very nice ladies) and to my surprise, he had a fairly cute apartment. Maybe it was the chick roommates. Anyway, we watched the game on separate couches and just talked sports and a little about each other. Then, it got awkward.

We got pizzas from some place down the street. I sat there, mortified, as I watched him eat an entire pizza. In minutes. Let me repeat…an entire pizza. AN ENTIRE LARGE PIZZA. This wouldn’t normally gross me out so much…but on a date? He finished it in RECORD time.

Then, he started talking. He asked me how I lost my virginity. What?  Then he told me his story in full graphic detail.

Then, he was like “c’mon, I know you must have a hilarious story. Just tell me.”

Then, when I wouldn’t tell him about my sexual encounters, he went on to say “Seriously? I find it hard to believe that YOU don’t have any stories.” Did he just call me a slut on our second date? Really?

Then he proceeded to tell me about how he lost his virginity. In full graphic vulgar detail. I’m used to hanging out with the guys, but seriously…this conversation was going downhill SO fast.

Then he came over and sat next to me on the couch. After turning the lights off. Really?

Soooo after a few minutes of sitting awkwardly on the couch…in the dark….with him too close for comfort…”I think I should go home…it’s late.”

I don’t think I ever ran so fast.


Author: Jane Champagne

I'm a single late 20s chick, living in Boston. I go on a lot of horrible dates, but some good ones, too.

3 thoughts on “The Baseball Date

  1. Pingback: Are You Friggin' Kidding Me?

  2. Pingback: More on generic messages « Are You Friggin' Kidding Me?

  3. Pingback: More on The Over-Sexter « Are You Friggin' Kidding Me?

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