He was the Damsel... He needed a Hero.

I asked PTV on a date.
The Mayans and his desire to finish their presentation and other such scholarly checklist items instituted a rain check.
Which is nice, because those tend to come back and happen eventually anyway, but I only like rain without the checks in these matters usually.

I texted him to ask a book question last night, which is when I discovered that he had a softball game.
"Wanna come watch? It's at Bicentennial."
Ooh... I sort of already de-cuteified for the day.
"I'm in sweats and holey t-shirt madness... but I'll have to change and come over!"
"Or just come like that. :)"

I maybe changed into my new jeans and a non holey shirt and then changed back into sweats and then back into jeans...

"We're only going to be playing for another half an hour at most..."

Ok. Pants I'm wearing, we're hitting the road. (Who needs jeans anyway?)
So I drove to the baseball fields by the Canyon Park.

"So... Veteran park isn't Bicentennial. No matter how much it wishes it was."
I think he texted something equally clever at that point, and I gunned it toward the next baseball fields I knew of. On Lay Hill. By the prison. Erm. Middle School.

... Those aren't even lit up. Obviously not Bicentennial either. (Call mom. She informs me they're by where Aunt SheraLyn and Uncle Lloyd live. Which doesn't help me much, because I can't think of any fields in that vicinity.)
This is the part where I burst into giggles at my plight. I've got limited time, and so far I've guessed every park it couldn't be. Well. That's progress, yeah?
"I give up! Where is Bicentennial?"
"Haha, it's South about a mile from the Hospital."
Speed, except not really because Bro. K paranoid me after his 'one minute' lesson on police car cameras and the like, and pull into the parking lot and walk shyly over to the South field benches. Because PTV said they were on the south field.
Every last one of the players is chubby, and all the spectators are wives with small children.
... I'm thinking I have the wrong field.

"By Southern did you mean Northern?" At this point I had spotted him, and he was standing by the dugouts looking kind of attractive and such. :p He turned and went to get his phone off the bench, yup. That's him.
Texting me while they're in the game still.

After the game, he came and gave me a hug, and informed me he can't find his keys anywhere and the spare is possibly locked in his car.
"So you're telling me you're a damsel in distress? And you need a hero?"
-Pause-
He sings, "I can be your hero baby..."
"No, no, no. More like: I NEED A HERO!" (I might have done an embarrassing little dance while singing that first line. Cue blushing.)

Long story short, while we were walking over to his car he told me I'm really attractive. I'm still in sweats. And old shoes. Ha!
Also, just call me a boy scout, because I had a flashlight of preparedness.

"Do you think the Mayans could spare you long enough for a smoothie, and finding a wire hanger?"
Who can resist that?
So off we went in my cute car to get avocados for smoothies and he started calling teammates.

We made shakes and talked about items on our bucket list that were serious. Like serious dream stuff.
"I don't want to hear you want to see the bulls of Spain unless it's like, 'I want to see the bulls of Spain! I want to pet them!'"
"I don't think I have any serious dreams on my bucket list. It's 97% nonsense..."
So he tells me some of his while I attempt to think of serious aspiration type dreams.

Talk talk talk, drink some smoothie, laugh, talk some more... woohoo! Found a way around the rain check almost. :p Hooray for lost keys.

P.S. I just revisited my obsession for this song. This blog was brought to you by:
Classical Music!


P.P.S I think maybe PTV is going to turn into Potential Twitterpation Victim instead of a Pretend one.... Curse Twitterpation!