Tonight Tonight

I watched hockey in a crowded bar, made friends with twin girls from upstate New York who are on vacation in SF from Manhattan, where they now live, one of whom works at a giant financial firm. She gets her company's on the glass seats to Ranger's games. Pictures of which she showed me. She also showed me a picture of her with Ryan Callahan and asked me if I knew who he was. Bitch, please. They were adorable.

I went to an amazing pitcher's duel of a baseball game, where Matt Cain pitched 8 shutout innings and Cliff Lee pitched 10...and lost. It was such a fast game it felt like a football game. Back and forth, up and down, trying to keep track of the action. We went through 8 inning in an hour and fifteen minutes. In baseball time that's...nothing. I wasn't even finished with my first beer before there was the 7th inning cut off. A couple of hits were the difference in this game. It was uber fun.


I talked the arbitrary nature of hockey suspensions with my brother's best best friend for a good twenty minutes, wherein I suggested that the NHL needs a more legal approach to how they handle penalties. Then I told him how I'd been banned from the bar he manages by my family, which he was shocked by. It gave me hope that maybe I should change my attitude and return. On the other hand, I kinda like making my mistakes out of the sight of my brother.

I stood up in a crowded bar to waive at my dad to let him know where I was and this guy says, "Oh you found me! I'm right here." And I said, "Uh, you don't look like my dad." He didn't know what to respond to that. Nice try, dude.

And then I went home alone and questioned the universe. I drank scotch, marveled at pitch counts, talked sports that weren't the ones we were attending. How is it even possible that I can't find someone to make out with on a regular basis?

Here's the deal: about 85% of the time, being single is a choice that I make. I'm cool with it. I'm picky, and annoying, and stubborn, and contrarian and not fit for human consumption. I get it. I'm good with it.

The other 15% of the time it just outright sucks. Like tonight. I'd really just like to sip more scotch and talk sports with someone and laugh hysterically and have those silly ridiculous moments that lead to lots of kissing.

And yet here I am, typing on a screen and drinking Guinness by myself.

I get that I don't look like a super model. No one will ever mistake me for Miranda Kerr.

Still...assuming that less than one percent of the female population is super models and that less than one percent of males are Ryan Gosling, there's gotta be someone, right? A dude that actually calls you and is like, "Hey, you're super awesome, let's hang out some more." Not some dude you text and are like, "Ugh, what's gonna be the outcome of this?"

Anyway, I'm just sitting here, chilling, drinking Guinness, wondering if dudes who text, "You're super awesome, let's hang out more" even exist.

I'm done being super emo. Tomorrow it is back to the gym. Because as I said to my dad, "Did the seats shrink during the off season? They totally must have." I was joking, of course. He laughed though and cracking my dad up is always a victory.

I also felt super guilty for being more excited about, and checking the score of, playoff hockey than I was about BEING at a baseball game. My dad taught me to say, "I hate the Dodgers" when I was 2 years old. I realize that I've evolved as a human being and most of that evolution involves loving to death college football and hockey but it all feels a bit like a betrayal. I've strayed so far from the family norm. Such the black sheep. It's kind of weird.

Alright, I just wanted to give a half drunken update of life on the west coast. There ya go. Living large in the 'Sco.