When Baseball Meets Bumble, Part 1

This particular event occurred last October during the baseball playoffs and I have debated whether or not to share it here on my blog as I always want to be respectful and kind. I haven’t embellished or stretched the truth in any way, this all happened over span of 4 hours.  Image result for bumble logo

Bumble is another world when it comes to connecting with what you hope are actual human beings of the opposite sex. For those of you that don’t know what Bumble is – it’s a dating app. A particular male individual had asked me to meet on a Saturday evening. It was during the baseball playoffs so I checked to see what game could be on that day. It happened to be a possible Game 6 for the ALCS along with the day my Seminoles would play Wake Forest. That particular ALCS Series was the Yankees vs Astros and I wasn’t going to miss it.  Houston was up 3-1 on the Yankees but I had a feeling that a Game 6 was going to happen or at least I’d hoped it would.

I was very upfront communicating that these 2 events were taking place that day letting him know I would have to be near a tv.   I would only be able to give him my undivided attention “during pitching changes and commercial breaks.” These were my actual words that were typed and sent over to him pre-meeting.  I was very clear at least in my mind about wanting to watch the playoff game.  My Bumble profile isn’t some cryptic message it’s really who I am with recent unaltered photos and mentions that I like sports with both the baseball and football emoji’s next to it.  I made the mistake of thinking he understands how into the games I’ll be and can just roll with it.

Saturday rolls around delivering the perfect storm FSU kicks off at 4:30 pm and the Yankees vs Astros Game 6 begins just after 5 pm. In hindsight I should have canceled, I know that now.  He still wanted to meet and we agreed a sports bar would be the perfect venue. I arrived early to get a good seat and sightline of the TV with the baseball game.   It’s Saturday evening and the majority of TV’s are tuned in to College Football games.

He rolls in without a hug or a handshake and plops down across from me in the booth. Here we go now another game has begun right in front of me. The conversation begins revolving around the game as it’s already begun and he knows I’m a Yankee fan.   He keeps commenting on any good thing the Astros do.  I wonder if he knows he’s not scoring any points with me.  He’s also taken on the task of watching the pitch count for some reason and relaying it to me when it gets high for Yankee pitchers. I look him right in the eye and remind him that I can also see the tv and he might want to refrain from being “Mr. Pitch Count.”  The Astros take an early lead, up 3-0 in the first and I hear all about it from the other side of the booth.  All of this talk coming from a Mariner fan none the less which he is and wearing his M’s cap proudly.

We place our orders for dinner at some point and to our surprise, we order exactly the same thing.  At the bottom of 4, it’s now a 3-2 game and the other side of the booth isn’t as quite lippy.  He’s also gone to the bathroom several times which has allowed me to check my phone and see what’s happening with the Noles.  He places his phone on the table facedown so I follow suit but his keeps buzzing the entire time while I have put mine on silent.  He comments on a lady sitting a table away about how rude she is by being on her phone in a bar. I flip mine over to find 50 text messages which means something is going on with the football game.   It’s looking like the Noles are sticking around in this one.

He’s back and I turn my phone back over to face down saying I needed to see how the Noles were faring and catch up on my friend’s texts about the game.  Dinner comes and we’ve both ordered Thai Chicken Salads.  It’s something I commonly get here and enjoy.  He begins to eat and is starting to tear up and wipe his eyes.  I am engaged in the ball game so it’s not occurring to me what’s going on.  He then asks me if my salad is hot?  Hot? Clearly he’s struggling to get it down and polishes off his drink.  I am trying not to laugh but it’s a Thai chicken salad and I don’t think it’s hot or spicy by any means.  Then the comment about them not being the same comes.  He thinks for some reason that his has to be spicier than mine because there’s no way I can just sit and eat mine unphased.

To be continued…….

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