Being a Sox fan isn’t all “Sweet Caroline.”
Especially if you’re a girl.
Especially if you live in North Carolina.
I’m going to take advantage of the off-day to let you in on something that shocked me. Apparently, guys don’t like talking about sports.
Met a guy at a party. Guy had on Sox hat. Sox hat was sole reason for talking to guy (big ears).
Guy says, “I’m a Sox fan.”
I say, “Awesome.”
I give guy 20 points inside my head and my phone number. Seriously, when I see a Sox hat, my phone number writes itself on napkins. It’s a flaw I’m working on. Sox hats and guitars. My phone number appears like magic. I don’t even remember asking for a pen.
I say, “Love what happened with Nomar(h) a few weeks back.”
Guy says, “What is No-mah?”
I take my phone number back.
And this is not the first time this has happened.
I have (in retrospect) scared even the most laid back (maybe especially the most laid back) guys off with my “sox-speak.”
Ask my friend Joel in Charlotte. Friends have, on occasion, said my Sox-monopoly of conversations has been an unwelcomed turn-off. Joel actually warned someone about me this one time. I heard him. Apparently sox-monopoly isn’t cool?
I know. I am as shocked as you are.
I can’t remedy this. I’ve tried.
Guys just don’t get it.
That first date question, “So, what are you into?” is dangerous. I say, as casually as I can muster (and I can muster casual. I can so muster casual, especially during off season), “Oh, you know, painting. Crocheting. (pause) Oh, and I like the Red Sox.”
Then they’re dumb enough to say, “Oh, really?”
Because they’re under that illusion (at least for a few minutes), that a girl into sports is hot. You don’t really think that. Especially not when the girl can out-Sox you. And trust me, I can.
Even though I know better, I find myself taking that “oh really?” as an invitation to word-vomit statistics and Kevin Youkilis fables, and before I know it, an hour has gone by, and the wide-eyed guy across from me at the table has already asked for the check.
This has (unbelievably) happened more than once.
Okay, this has happened more than twice. Possibly more than a dozen times.
It makes it hard to foster multiple dates. You know, with the same person. Because even if you call me, I am unbelievably critical… and I have caller ID. And, while I still think dating is overrated, I did make that New Year’s resolution to (at least try to) take guys more seriously… it’s still the New Year…
The new, mature, adult Lauren has decided there is only one real cure for the Sox-word-vomit. To go out with an actual Red Sox fan.
This has never happened. Seriously. It’s hard in Boone, NC. And my definition of a Sox fan is a bit specific.
I have been on dates with people who -say- they’re Sox fans. But they’re just in it for the t-shirts. My friend Michael put it best the other day- calling them “pink hats,” in it for the Nation. Nothing turns me off more than a “fan” who doesn’t know how to spell Youkilis. Seriously. Couldn’t you google it before we go out?
Certain -people- I have gone out with in recent weeks, really don’t get it. And I mean, REALLY don’t get it. Worse than lame ex-boyfriends who purposefully cheer for the Yankees out of spite (yes, I’m talking to you).
For example, after I’ve ALREADY word vomited my adoration for K-Youk (holding back as much as I can, of course, and, if you know me, you know how hard it is for me to keep anything inside), and they pretend to think that’s cute, or hot, or whatever (key word pretend. I see through you), they try to make plans with me for Tuesday. You know, Tuesday after Easter. Game Day. Yanks vs Sox day.
Plans that don’t include a bar with MLB network?
Do I LOOK like the kind of girl who wants to sit through the non-Maggie Smith Clash of the Titans remake when Fat Tire is on tap less than a mile away at a bar with Sat tv?
Apparently. It must be the pig tails.
Speaking of movies…
Have you NEVER seen the movie Fever Pitch? Because maybe you should. It is Drew Barrymore’s only redemption. That and ET. And… Babes in Toyland (got it free at McDonald’s a trillion years ago, okay? And it was the greatest film Keanu was ever in. But that’s a tangent. And I’m trying to stop it with the tangents. That was New Year’s resolution #2. Starting it now. Do you remember Much Ado About Nothing with Kenneth Brannagh? That was better. But Keanu sucked. Okay. Starting now).
“I didn’t know you were -that- kind of fan,” they say.
Have you seen my car? The flags/magnets/stickers/plate frame weren’t adequate indicators?
So, random guy, if you’re wondering why I didn’t text you back yesterday… wonder no longer.
Now that I’m doing this mature, responsible, adult thing of trying to take the opposite sex seriously (sorry guys, but it’s hard. You can be so ridiculously needy. And comical. And so many of you have ears that are disproportionate to your faces) and trying not to go out with guys just to get a free meal (and I’m a reporter, so I can barely feed myself without such handouts. Feel extremely special if I answer my phone for date #2. I’d actually rather read magazines on the Parkway than listen to you talk about that time you and the frat brothers streaked down King Street and how Family Guy has “actual, relevant commentary”), I find myself going on multiple dates with some real losers, just to prove I don’t make up random flaws (I’m not talking about you, of course).
Am I making any sense?
It’s early. And I haven’t had baseball since Sunday. Or coffee since twenty minutes ago.
I have to drive back to Boone today, and, more importantly, find a bar that carries MLB network before 7:15. Any suggestions? No? Look for me. I’ll be the girl in the 20 jersey throwing condiments at the television and cursing. Probably sitting by myself, naturally, glaring at guys who try to pick me up (can you at least wait until a commercial?) and drinking PBR. Unless I can convince one of my unsuspecting friends to chaperone. And… by 7:15 they’ve read this blog and know better. Prob even Nicole.
I miss Jason Varitek.
If you haven’t read this, you should. It would be funny if it weren’t so very sad.
Burnett vs Lester tonight, kids!
And- to start your day on a high note:
PS- I would almost eat meat for this. Almost.