Sex & Sox

My passions: Sex and the Boston Red Sox!


Friday, November 05, 2004

Sharing Sox

Now, I live outside of Toronto -- yeah, that's Canada, where Hockey reigns supreme. There was one night we were at a Red Sox game at the Skydome and my man gets this distant look on his face, staring off into the distance.

"What are you looking at?!" I asked, exasperated.

"The Air Canada center. The Leafs are playing."

This boggled my mind. There is fine Billy Mueller ass flexing back and forth not thirty feet away and someone can manage to think about hockey?! Unreal!

Anyhow, I had a Red Sox Nation moment on Wednesday. We were grocery shopping and as we're standing at the check-out, I'm looking over our stuff. "Hmm," he says, "Do you want to go grab a bag of pretzels?"

It should be mentioned that I love pretzels -- a nutritious, cheap snack. So of course I'm like, "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" (imagine Scooby Doo begging for a Scooby snack, even though I hate that fucking cartoon) and go trotting off.

Walking past the soup aisle, I look up.

Up, into the eyes of this gorgeous red-haired, blue-eyed Irish god.

Wearing, I shit you not, a Red Sox cap.

I'm wearing my pink Red Sox cap (I rarely leave the house without it) and we both just stop, and smile at each other, one of those huge, goofy smiles that show your teeth and make you look grotesque to anyone that isn't part of It. I tip my cap to him and he tips his to me and we continue on our way -- me wiggling my hips more than I usually do, in case he looks back. I'm always up for a threesome, especially with a Boston fan!

It was just such an awesome feeling -- to share that bond with a complete stranger, one borne of the joy of winning. It wasn't an "I feel your pain" stare, but rather a delirious and giddy exchange of goodwill.

I love baseball.

I used to work on commission in the Electronic department at Sears in Flint, Michigan. No matter what profits were lost to me, I would NOT help someone wearing Yankees paraphenilia. I would find one of my co-workers and tell them that someone needed help. If you're goddamned stupid enough to be a Yankees fan, I don't want to try and explain to you what the difference between a flat screen and an LCD television is. ("Flat screen? Doesn't that mean it's like.... thin?" "No, it means the screen doesn't have a curve to it. The screen is flat." "Right, like a book, you can hang it on your wall." "You hang books on your wall? ... Wait, nevermind. I can see that. But no, flat screen means... oh hell, just TOUCH it.")

I promise you I'm not even joking!

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