During my fall semester of my sophomore year of college, I dated a police officer and thought it was the sexiest thing ever. One evening, while I walked to a yoga class, he called and asked if I wanted to go to a Mets game with him. Right now. He got tickets from his cop buddy.
“They’re amazing seats, right behind home plate! You have to come,” said Mr. Cop. He convinced me, so my yoga mat and I jumped on the 7 train.
He told me to enter though a special VIP entrance, which was so exciting; I never experienced any sort of VIP treatment before. I approached the entrance and I told Mr. Cop to meet me there so he could give me my ticket. 20 minutes later, he stumbled toward me.
Mr. Cop was so drunk I could smell his liquor breathe from a mile a way.
“Heyyyyy there, pretty girl,” he said, as he kissed my lips roughly. He tasted of whiskey and cigarettes.
He handed me the ticket and I gave it to the security guard, only it didn’t scan. Mr. Cop had brought the wrong ticket. The security guard apologized and said he couldn’t let me in. Mr. Cop just has to go back to get the unused ticket.
“Do you know what I am? Hold on, take a look at this,” he said while flashing his badge to the security guard. The security guard seemed unimpressed, but let me in because they probably noticed how embarrassed I was, how drunk he was – and felt bad.
We walked upstairs and he kept trying to make out with me. He was so sloppy and so, so sweaty.
“I’ve never done this for anyone before,” he slurred.
“Done what?” I asked, confused and annoyed.
“Taken any girl I was dating to a baseball game.”
How very lucky of me. Especially since he was so drunk he couldn’t find our seats. He could barely see. It didn’t help that he kept trying to kiss me. Get out of my mouth and focus, Mr. Cop!
Finally seated, we watched the game. Well, I watched. Mr. Cop kept dozing off. His eyes closed, his head dropped. He was snoozing. Suddenly, a player from the opposing team hit a Homerun and sent the ball high up in the air. I quickly realized it was coming toward our section. In my general direction. Oh my God, it’s coming STRAIGHT AT ME! I screamed, grabbed onto Mr. Cop’s arm and tried to get him to cover me – only he was still taking his drunken nap. Thankfully, the ball didn’t hit me but I was still furious at him. Not only was he a pretentious and inconsiderate jerk, but he was bombed!
I should have left earlier than I did. Still, after all of his antics, I wanted to make sure he got in a cab and didn’t drive home. I was a Good Samaritan because that was the right thing to do, Mr. Cop! I should have just gone to yoga.