“Do you like sports?” his text read.
We’d met the previous weekend at a hip-hop club in lower Manhattan. I spotted him at the bar while my sister and I were out on the dance floor. He was much taller than the rest of his friends and his angular jaw and broad shoulders made him hard not to miss.
When I went to the bar to order a drink, he wasted no time in coming over to me. The connection was instant and we talked and danced for the remainder of the evening. The night ended with a light brush of his fingers across my cheek as I stood outside waiting for a cab back to Brooklyn.
Giddy with excitement, I shot back, “Yes!”
It wasn’t a lie. I’m not a rabid Sportscenter enthusiast, but I love football and thought his suggestion to meet at Tonic, a multi-floored sports bar in Midtown was a good idea.
“A sports bar?” my friend sneered when I told her about the date. “That is the most unromantic thing I’ve ever heard of.”
I disagreed. What better way to get to know each other than in a light-hearted, lively, no-pressure-to-be-romantic kind of way?
Dressing for the date proved to be more of a challenge than I had thought as I didn’t want to be too dressed up nor did I want to show up in a NY Giants jersey with red, white and blue face paint.
I arrived looking cute, but not girly in a pair of black jeans and a simple top. We were both a little nervous so I was grateful to have something to talk about until we were comfortable. He was surprised at how well I followed football and I was glad to have someone who could explain the more nuanced parts of the game.
Once the booze kicked in and we began to relax, his charm from Saturday night was replaced with grunts and jerky hand gestures of towards the TV. When I tried to ask him questions about himself, he was so distracted by the game that I had to ask him twice.
“Huh? Oh sorry,” he’d say, with forced effort to pay attention – kind of like a nine-year old who was just told to focus on his homework or else.
I waited for him to ask me something about myself other than, “Who’s your favorite team?” or “Do you do Fantasy Football?”
Come on man! I like sports, but I’m not your buddy here. Next thing you know, he’ll be high-five-ing me and farting freely, pumping his arm with delight as each flagellation outdoes the last.
What kind of first date was this? What happened to the guy staring intently into my eyes as he declared his desire to see me again?
ESPN happened, that’s what.
I waited for halftime, telling myself that it was a good game and I was enjoying the excitement of it. We were there together, after all, so why not just go with it? We could chat at halftime, right?
When both teams headed for the locker rooms, he turned to me and said, “So, tell me about yourself.”
Now we were getting somewhere! I happily launched into the important details about myself – the interesting stuff – like how I once worked as a costumed character for kids parties. But he was only half-listening, following up with absent nods and a few, “Mmm-hmm’s” while stealing looks at the flat screen just above my head.
When I mentioned living in Los Angeles for two years, he tuned in long enough to ask me about my life there and when I began to tell him, he jumped up out of his seat, his arms raised up in the air as if to signal a touchdown.
“OH MY GOD!! That was CRAZY!” he screamed at the TV to my right.
I was done. My grand idea of a fun-filled night in a sports bar turned into a bad version of a family dinner where everyone talks over one another and doesn’t listen to a word I say.
I did agree to a date in a sports bar. I should have known what I’d be in for, right?
I contemplated a lie – stomach ache, headache, a sick relative. I felt invisible and the longer I sat there, the less courage I had to speak up and say what I really wanted to say which would’ve been something like, “Hey asshole!! If you wanted someone to just watch the game with, why didn’t you just call up one of your buddies?”
I should have just gotten up and left. It’s not like he would notice until the game was over. But I wanted it to be a good date. I wanted to show him that I was that up-for-anything girl.
But the truth is there are plenty of ways to have a fun date without having to compete with six games on twelve TV’s.
A Sports Bar is a great place for a date – just maybe not the first one. If a guy wants to take you out to “watch the game” on your first date, gently suggest a situation where there’s a better opportunity to get to know one another. Save the NFL Sunday Ticket for a third or fourth date – maybe even a double date, so you’ve got someone else to talk to if your guy’s immersed in the game. For the guys out there who are thrilled to meet a girl who likes sports, don’t assume that’sall she likes. She’s still a lady, after all –and it’s wise to treat her like one.
—-Liz Weber
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