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I am a baseball girl. I know I've said this about a thousand times before but it's the cold, hard truth. Sure, I'll watch the SuperBowl but I'm only watching for the commercials and Drew Brees (omg, baby Brees - cutest moment in football history!!!) Frankly, I find basketball boring and hockey is a little too fast paced for me. I love that baseball balances out the extremely exciting moments with plenty of time to eat a hot pretzel. It's not a sport full of violence so girls don't get grossed out during play. The rules are fairly simple to understand. And then there are the uniforms...

But I digress.

Point of the story is that when a boy messages me about missing Shea Stadium, I (as a Mets fan) completely connect to what he's saying and we hit it off immediately. Now, I realize that I just lost half of my audience by admitting to being a Mets fan but let me say for the record that I root for BOTH New York teams when they are playing. I love the Yankees as much as the next person. It's just that I have a soft spot in my heart for the underdog, the little guy, the dark horse, in other words: the Mets.

This boy and I have comparable predicaments. We both come from families where our parents and siblings are Yankee fans and do not understand our compassion for a losing team. Why on Earth hold on to the belief that we may, possibly, one day, not totally SUCK for an entire season? Well, as Tug said, Ya Gotta Believe. That's our motto. It's gotten me through life as a Mets fan and now through post-divorce dating. I know that I may have struck out the last few (82) times at bat. But I believe that this time up is my time to shine. It's my ball game. I might head into extra innings but I'll go there with a heart open to the possibility that today, I will win!

Why am I telling you all of this baseball imitates life philosophy? Because this boy I've been messaging...it's all he talks about! Like I said, I'm cool talking about sports, at least more than most girls. But come on! I'm still a girl!!! Honestly, the Giants score from two Sundays ago does not affect my life in any way. The play-by-play of the 1987 division league, game 6, 10th inning is not in my trove of useless facts and information. Mostly because I just don't care. Is it time to go shopping now?

Which is how I know I'm in trouble when all Mets fan wants to do is talk sports. I now know his bowling league average, which Devils games he has tickets to this hockey season, and the Giants standings in the NFL but I couldn't tell you his last name, his hobbies, or what he does for a living. This is going to be one very interesting date!

The first time we talk on the phone, I discover that he (like me) is a fan of country music. If I haven't just lost the other half of my audience, you'll note that (just like the Mets fans) we are a dying breed in NYC. I am thrilled to find we have another passion in common. We talk about our favorite stars of country music, which concerts we've both attended, how many times he's gone to Nashville. I'm just about getting excited to meet him when he tells me he has to cancel the date we had planned. His mom left him a "Sonny - Do" list which I'm assuming is similar to a "Honey - Do" list those of you with husbands have hanging around.

Seriously? You can't go out with me cause mommy gave you a list of chores? Wow, dude. Grow a backbone!

Alright, I know I'm being harsh on him but sad is the plight of the grown-up child who depends on their parents for a roof over their heads. Several of us have had to return to our adolescent homes post - divorce, post - job loss, post - economic crash. I'm right there with you and I get it. But my parents have never told me I can't go out on a date because I have to clean my room or fold the laundry or vacuum. His mom made him re-shingle the roof the weekend of our rendez-vous. Ridiculous!

Attempt at dating, Round Two: he gets tickets to the Mets game from a friend in his bowling league. I'm super psyched to go but the game is three weeks away! I suggest meeting up for coffee beforehand just to get to know each other but the scheduling just never works out and we wind up after a rain out with eight hours of a double header at the ball park as our first date! Holy scariness, Batman.

I decide that we'd be better off skipping the first half of Game 1 and just meeting at the train station when he gets home from work. He almost missed the train because his mother (again with her) sent him on errands and threw a shit fit when he told her he wouldn't be home to make dinner. Talk about indentured servitude!!! I had invited him out to lunch before the game but he said that first dates make him so nervous, he'd do better not eating at all during the day for fear of anxiety plus a weak stomach acting up on him. Yeah, I've already had one guy puke on a date so I'd rather not risk a repeat of that performance!

At last, I arrive and hug him hello. He seems perfectly normal (I always say that, don't I?) We ride the train to Citifield together and in that hour, he regales me with stories from his Star Trek convention days and the time he spent in Vegas at Star Trek: The Experience. Ho. Ly. Crap. Most people go to Vegas for strippers, shows and slot machines, not to mention copious amounts of liquor. He was there on New Year's Eve and wound up as the designated driver because he doesn't drink. At all. This is a Klingon nightmare.

What is it about me that screams "Nerds wanted!!!" Honestly, every boy within a hundred mile radius who has a hard on for Dungeons & Dragons, World of Warcraft, Heroes & Villains, Star Wars, and Star Trek manages to flock to me like geeks to ComicCon. I don't know what sort of Legend of Zelda / Xena, Warrior Princess vibes I am giving off here but I don't think I can take too much more of GeekFest 2010. I'm sorry, I know that nerds need love too. But sitting at home watching MythBusters on a Friday night is not getting you laid. You're single because you say things like "I can curse in several alien languages" and "Don't worry, sometimes I dress like a human." There is no way you're getting lucky by tuning in to Futurama! I really hate to break it to the nerds, dorks and geeks of this world but a degree in computer science is not a turn on to members of the opposite sex!

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Where was I?

Oh, right, I was up to the part where my date tells me that he'd like to have children someday but he doesn't want to give them standard, boring names like his own. He'd rather name his kid something like Tiberius. For those of you non-Trekkies, Tiberius is Captain Kirk's middle name. No, seriously. Do you want your child growing up with Captain Kirk's middle name??? I wouldn't want to be that kid trying to survive kindergarten! Let alone junior high. Why don't you just send him to school with a sign on his back that says "Please flush my head down the toilet!" It's the newest form of childhood cruelty. But it doesn't stop there. He actually has a book of science fiction inspired baby names. I think I'll stick with Chris and Emily, but thanks anyway!

Once we're at the game (and the lesson in Trekkie history has ended) I am positively starving. I decide on a hot pretzel before I spot the zeppole cart. If you aren't Italian and / or don't live in New York and / or don't have a street fair near you, you just might be missing out on some of the best food ever invented. First of all, there's dough. Second, the dough gets fried. Finally, the hot, fried dough is doused in powdered sugar. Can you think of a more delicious creation? Sure, they're golf-ball sized heart attacks in a bag. But that's half the fun of eating them! The other half is trying not to choke on the powdered sugar as you inhale your dessert. Lesson: Never breathe in while eating zeppoles. Never.

Alas, I sit with my pretzel and we enjoy the end of the first game. By "enjoy" I mean that we cheer for a losing team who was winning until their relief pitcher gave up the lead. Big surprise. When we get up again to walk around the stadium, he points out all the cool moments in Mets history, the retired numbers, the players' jerseys, the remnants left of Shea. We grab a couple of bottled waters and head back to our seats for the second game. When Ike Davis gets up to bat, I say "that's my baseball boyfriend." Mets guy looks at me and says "Oh, like in that episode of FRIENDS where they list five celebrities they're both allowed to sleep with?" Yes, exactly like that! And since I know you're wondering, here is the rest of my list:

My baseball boyfriend: Ike Davis

My music boyfriend: Michael Buble

My cooking boyfriend: Guy Fieri

My TV boyfriend: Matt Bomer

My Movie boyfriend: Orlando Bloom

*It used to be Heath Ledger, RIP*

My overall boyfriend whom I would trade in the other five for: Christian Bale. He's hot in Batman (love a man in a vinyl suit) but I actually fell in love with him in Newsies circa 1993. Yes, the one with Doogie Howser's little buddy in it. Coincidentally, that same kid was also in 10 Things I Hate About You with Heath Ledger. Are we sensing a theme here?

Point being, I ask him who's on his list and he says he doesn't have one. Bull shit. Everyone has a list. I even make suggestions and he doesn't bite at a single one of them. He just doesn't have a list. Wow, ok. How about a fantasy? There's got to be someone (other than Princess Leia in the gold bikini --- also a FRIENDS reference) that turns him on. Nope, no fantasies.

It is at this point in time that I ever so gently ask if sex has been a part of his life. He shakes his head no. Wow. Did not see that coming. Partly cause I was half kidding and partly cause he's 32 and it's just very surprising! His longest relationship only lasted 5 months. He tells me that in the beginning, it was a conscious, moral decision that he thought he wanted to wait until marriage but recently, there just haven't been any opportunities. No girlfriend, no chance at sex.

I refrain from laughing. I refrain from making snide comments. I refrain from running away screaming. Instead, I spend the evening trying to get to know this man because I am genuinely interested and I do not try to figure out what the hell is wrong with him because it's not a matter of "wrong." He's kind and considerate and funny and smart and has cloudy blue eyes I can't quite read. Yes, he has a nervous stomach which means he is not eating on tonight's date. Yes, he wants to name his future kids after Star Trek characters. Yes, his mother leaves him lists of chores to do thus canceling our dates. And yes, he's a 32 year old virgin. But when he got home that night, he texted me to say that he was sorry I hadn't gotten any zeppoles at the baseball game but there is a street fair setting up at the train station. He'd love to take me if I'd like to go. He owes me fried dough covered in sugar. Now that's what I call sweet!

Copyright Kimberly Spice 2010