Tag Archives: What to Do on a Date

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

A baseball game.  A date that isn’t too involved, one you can carry through comfortablyWhat To Do On a Date (1951)

Pictured: Victory. Also, Doreen

Pictured: Victory. Also, Doreen

I know literally three things about baseball: 1) It’s played with a ball, 2) There are bases involved and 3) That if you lose, you get ice cream and if you win, you get Pizza Hut.  This vast knowledge was culled from three years of pee-wee softball where my coach, Doreen, would sit down on a splitering, lead-painted bench, fire up an unfiltered Kool, gather us girls around and, in between inhales which she kindly directed right into our eight-year-old faces, tell us to get out there and play without ever actually, you know, teaching us how to play.  Needless to say,  Becker’s softball team never saw the inside of a Pizza Hut.

But apparently, a ball game is a fun date, and Mike has been anxious to see the Oneonta Outlaws play, so we did.  Mike is and always has been one of my favorite boy friends because he, having known me for nearly a decade, has figured out (more or less) how to treat me, like complimenting my skull earrings and paying for things.  I remembered too late that he liked the blue eyeliner I was wearing on our last date to the drive-in, or else I would have worn it for him.

Currently NY is experience temperatures not unlike the inside of a slow cooker.  It’s hot, it’s damp and it’s sunny, but the sunscreen merely lays on top of your skin like an extra layer, only unlike your cotton sundress or tee-shirt, you can’t sweat through it.  Miserable conditions for a ballgame, but we’d been trying to schedule this for three weeks now and we weren’t going to let nuclear sunlight drive us away from our date.

Mike knows tons and tons and tons about baseball.  He’s a Yankees fan, and the only non-jerk male Yankees fan I know, so throughout the game, he would explain stats and tell me about awesome plays he saw on YouTube.  We sat in the shaded deck and then, later, in one of the empty box seats to watch the Outlaws completely blow a game against the not-much-better Syracuse Salt Cats in the first game of their double-header in what was mostly an ongoing display of Beckers-esq incompetence.  (They won the second game, but I’m not sure what that does for the ice cream/pizza roster).

What was nice about the game was the relaxed atmosphere.  We could have drinks and chit-chat and keep an eye on the game and cheer when one of our players did something good, but it lacked the intensity of professional sports, where you’re crowded in with superfans screaming in your ears.  Plus, I also got to follow Arlene Dahl’s advice about drawing out his ideas, which I think Mike enjoyed.  And making sure your partner enjoys the date is, according to the short, one of the fundamentals of dating!

So maybe next time we’ll go to a weenie roast . . . or fix up a scavenger sale!

The Nervous Home-wrecker

So last night my bestie Rachel’s husband Dave took me out to see Warm Bodies.  We’d sort of half been planning this date for a while; namely, when I went to see The Hobbit with him and our friend Darcy (and was a GREAT date by NOT falling asleep and drooling on his shoulder, because I’m ladylike) and we saw the trailer and he half-asked me if I wanted to go because, like The Hobbit, he didn’t think his wife would be interested.  That’s me, the Movie Mistress.

I was strangely nervous, partially because I could tell he was a little skittish about being seen out with me (and rumors starting that he was stepping out on his wife) and partially because I think Rachel is one of the most awesome people in the entire world, and if I somehow acted like a goober, it would get back to her and she wouldn’t like me anymore, which would be a mega-drag.  Not being liked by Rachel and Dave is one of my biggest fears.  It might be my biggest fear, actually, because I think they’re both so cool, and I’m sort of surprised they let me hang out with them, because I am a dork.

A little bit about Dave.  I like Dave a lot.  He smiles out of the corner of his mouth like Han Solo, and  he laughs at my jokes, and he has a very sharp, dry sense of humor that I dig.  He’s a great husband and a great dad, and I think that’s what I like best about him.  (See also: he laughs at my jokes.)

He picked me up at 8:15 in his wife’s car and immediately handed me his iPhone.  “You pick the tunes,” he said, already starting the date off on an awesome foot.  I picked the soundtrack to Les Mis, partially because I’d been making fun of him about it for a few days and partially because I was afraid of the touchscreen.  He rolled his eyes and laughed and sneered, “Oh shut up” and then I laughed.

It also marked the first time I was taller than my date.  My wedges propped me up so I was just slightly above him.  He took it well.

He bought us Cokes and a Lindt chocolate bar, the movie was free and there was free freshly-popped popcorn.  “You’re a cheap date,” he said in a way that made me feel like a million bucks.

The movie was passable, but we both made fun of it for MST3K bonus points.

Afterwards, he took me out for a beer at the same bar he and his guy friends go to, which also made me feel cool.  He was treating me like one of the guys instead of some delicate hot-house blossom, which is exactly how the husband of my best gal-pal should treat me.  We talked local politics, we made each other laugh, and around midnight, we both realized that we had to get up early for the exact same Mystery Train performance in the morning and said goodnight.  No hug, no kiss on the cheek, just “Catch ya later.”

There was no expectation, no weird tension, no performance on either of our parts.  We went out as two friends, we watched a cheesy movie and drank delicious beer in an empty bar with “Shipping Up to Boston” playing on the jukebox (not our choice).  It was one of the most fun evenings I’ve had in awhile.