Date 29 - Lacrosse with a Gentleman

Adam was another one of my first choices when I decided to take on the 40 Date Challenge. We have been in the periphery of one another’s lives for years. He is a (relatively) recently divorced friend of a friend. He is easygoing, a sports fan, and he works with cars. I had seen Adam at parties and major events, but I don’t think we’d ever really spoken. Then, in January we spent an afternoon watching football followed by a random metal concert in the evening with a small group of friends. That day I realized that Adam was genuinely hilarious and fun to talk to. He is shorter than I am, bald, with a ready smile, a lovely drunk singing voice, and good pun instincts.

So when I was thinking about who I should go on dates with (as I explained to Adam after asking him out), it might as well be with people who are lovely and fun.

He said no.

Well, he didn’t say “no” exactly. But that’s what it felt like - gut punch, stair not there in the dark, doubt everything you ever thought was good about yourself, capitalized and emphatic and humiliating NO. Have I mentioned that I struggle with rejection? Or is that patently obvious and probably why I’m single? *shot*

What he actually said was “I absolutely would have a month and a half ago, but my situation has changed.”

Nothing hurtful, no actual reason to feel like pond scum.



Suck it, universe!

So when he texted me out of the blue and asked me how my 40 dates were going, then offered to help me out by taking me out, I was torn between feeling bad that his “situation” was back to single, meanwhile I had already texted “Yay! Let’s go to lacrosse on Saturday!”

 

Adam was totally psyched to see lacrosse. So, suck it universe! There are men who want to go to lacrosse games with me! Also a relief, since Lana was out of town and would not have been able to step in this time.

 

I bought tickets at a crazy good price, and then felt absurdly, uncharacteristically calm about it.

Adam and I exchanged a few messages, logistics and nonsense, which I’m hoping qualifies as flirting because otherwise I have zero idea of how to flirt.

We met at a pub near the stadium for a drink before the game. He ordered beer and I ordered cider. And milk and cookies (the milk is pretty much just for dipping). He scoffed, and then was properly impressed when they arrived. He even helped me eat them.

 

As we sat visiting, I noticed that the sun was glaring in through the window and bothering Adam. He leaned awkwardly so that the glare was out of his eyes for a while, but then decided to just get up and do something about it. He went over to the window and pulled the curtain down. All of the people who had been roasting uncomfortably in the sun but somehow unable to operate a curtain were relieved. The table of four next to the window thanked him, and a couple in a booth applauded. Adam is now a folk hero. Bards are preparing ballads to sing of his commonsense and simple bravery.

We paid our tabs and walked to the stadium. It wasn’t a long walk, and it was a lovely day. We chatted happily, he bought beer and a slice of pizza (I did not partake, those cookies were oddly filling) and we found our assigned seats. They were only a few rows back, which was fantastic. There was a tediously long pre-game ceremony where they inducted someone into the local lacrosse hall of fame. I knew the player (not personally, just as a fan of the game back when he played) and was moved to tears when they showed his former teammate (and my all-time favourite lacrosse player) crying stoically. Still, it went on too long and we were starting to get bored before the game got started.

Once the whistle blew for the first faceoff, we were back into the swing of things – cheering, jeering, and shouting silly things. The crowd was packed, and the game was nonstop music and action. Some drunken 20-year-olds in the rows in front of us provided additional entertainment by spilling beer on one another and throwing 20-year-old tantrums. We laughed at them.

There were plenty of opportunities to cheer and sing and throw our hands in the air, which was great. It was one of those high scoring games that keeps you on your toes, and my team won. What more could a girl ask for?

We said “goodbye” to our neighbours, who we had bonded with by making fun of the young’un drama and shouting silly answers to the announcer’s refrain of: “WHAT’S HE GOT?” Normally the crowd shouts “NOTHING!” as the reply, but we took turns coming up with silliness like “HALITOSIS!” or “AN OEDIPAL COMPLEX!” Which is fun for the whole family.

After the game, we walked back to the pub where we’d parked. We talked and laughed, but there were a couple of pauses that were full of tiredness on both sides. I asked Adam where he was parked, and it was the opposite direction from where I had left Errol.

Pierre from speed dating was standing on the street corner in front of the pub, and I took immediate evasive action.

“Well, I’m this way.” I turned as I pointed so Pierre wouldn’t see my face. Adam smiled and just said, “Ok, goodnight,” And walked away.

Oops.

“Ok, bye! Thanks for fun!” I called to his back. Not sure if I should feel like pond scum now, but I was too tired to really think about it.