I bet you want to hear about softball.
As a team, we didn't play great but I had a good game. I didn't screw up in the field and got one honest-to-goodness hit. I even scored a run. I did a good job catching the ball and throwing it all the way back to the pitcher. We lost resoudingly, but I still had a good time and remained in good spirits for the entire game. For the second week in row I have no idea what the final score was--only that we were crushed.
Wait, you probably didn't want to hear about the game. You probably wanted to hear about My Future Husband (MFH). Yes, MFH was there. He was in all his MFH glory. He remembered me and gave me a very friendly hello. He chatted with me and, again, was funny and cute and seemed to be flirting. He continued to compliment my playing (is he crazy? Or maybe I'm better than I give myself credit for?). When I said I wasn't much of a base runner he asked why. I said, "Because I'm not fast. I'm a slow runner." He said, "But you are smart and that's more important." I mumbled something about just doing what they told me and trying not to think too much, but he was gone by then, getting ready to bat. A few people gave me a hand slap when I scored the run, but MFH gave me the hand slap after I grounded out--that's something different. There's a little comradeship growing between us.
I was playing it cool, but made a point to sit near him on the bench when possible and smile and chat enthusiastically. I didn't want to seem overeager. Cause it would be really bad if he could tell that I liked him. This never ends, does it?
Unfortunately, there was no momentum to go to lunch after the game so I didn't get a chance to talk to him further. MFH did make a point to say goodbye to me when he headed to his car. He definitely did not do the same with everyone else.
We won't play again for another two weeks, so there is no point dwelling on this. But the signs are there. He likes me. I don't know why, except, why shouldn't he? I like him too and I'm ready to get to know him better. He's awfully good-natured, not sulky even when not playing great (still good in the field and starting to hit the ball hard, but his swing is not quite where he wants it). He's been consistently kind and respectful. It's cool to think that he regards me as a good ball player. I do wonder how to handle this kind of situation--I wish I could just ask him out, but I don't have his number or email (thanks for the roster, Cap!). But, even if I did, it would probably be a bad idea. We've got a long season ahead of us. What if something went horribly wrong? Isn't it better to just wait, get to know him slowly and make a move closer to the end of the season? Of course it is. How annoying.
You know what the real highlight of the day was, though? My second at bat, after I'd made a hit on my first time up, there was some chatter over on the other team's bench. I quite clearly heard someone say, "She's a hitter!" That pretty much made my day. Whether or not my future husband is really out there, at least I'm playing ball well!
Grateful for: being a hitter.