The Dodger Game with Joyce: The Aftermath

Turns out there was an aftermath to when Joyce took me Dodger Stadium and bought us seats in the third row right behind home plate.

Remember how I told y’all that we were in the padded blue seats you see on the TV? Think about that for a minute.

If you can see the seats on the TV when you’re at home watching the game, that means people watching the game at home can see you when you’re in those seats.

“It could have been worse, bubba…you could have been on the Kiss Cam” – that was Keaton’s opinion, but what happened was worse. Only the people at Dodger Stadium can see who’s on the Kiss Cam. Anybody watching the game on TV got to see a shot of me and Joyce when she was leaning over to see something on my scoresheet. While she was looking over, her hair fell forward, and I brushed it back into place.

It was no big deal. Keaton texted me during the game “smile you’re on TV” and a couple other buddies texted about how expensive a seat I was sitting in. A girl at the store who’s a huge Dodger fan said she’d seen me and my “girlfriend” when I got into work the next morning. Keaton recorded the replay of the game and showed it to me, and I reckon it does look like me and Joyce are boyfriend and girlfriend. So I guess it’s official now.

I was worried that Joyce would freak out the way she did when her friend saw us having dinner. Nobody mentioned it to her, which was a relief. So I guess nobody she knows gets the Dodgers channel.

The problem is that someone else does.

Remember how I’ve been telling y’all that Monica’s family is totally fucked up? Her brother Doug may be the craziest of them all. The dude is fuckin evil. He nearly got me into a fistfight on Thanksgiving, just to make trouble. Not like he thought he was going to win lol. Even without me knocking his fucked up ass into the pool, he spent the whole day stirring up trouble, especially between his two batshit crazy sisters. Y’all remember I said they needed umpires in the dining room? That was because of the way Doug was pushing everyone’s buttons. Like I said, the dude is evil.

So Doug was watching the game and he saw me brush Joyce’s hair out of the way and back behind her ear.

And who does he show it to? Like make her come over that night so he can play it for her?

Of course Monica.

I still haven’t seen her since I walked out on her in the restaurant, but we did start texting again. Like I promised Keaton, I told her I wanted to meet her for a drink so I could break up with her. We had a date for Tuesday, the night after the Dodger game.

I don’t look at my phone when I’m at Joyce’s. I didn’t spend the night because I couldn’t show up to work in my Corey Seager jersey, so I got home at around 4:00. That was when I looked at my phone and saw all the texts I had and who they were from. I wasn’t going to let Monica ruin an awesome night, so I went to bed, thinking fuck her.

There were 23 more texts the next morning. I’m not fuckin kidding. 23. Most of them demanding to know who Joyce was.

— I’ll explain it tonight.

— Explain it NOW! Who WAS she?? Are you dating that old bitch?

I was going to hold onto my balls whatever happened. And holding onto my balls meant telling the truth.

— Yes.

— She’s so OLD!!!!! I bet she’s older than your mom!!!

For the record, Mom’s 55. Joyce is not older than Mom.

— That’s none of your business.

Keaton would be proud. I wasn’t letting her near my cahones.

— Ur fucking an old hag like that? That’s fuckin gross. Ew. EW. PUUUUUUUKE!

I decided not to answer.

— I bet your embarassed you got caught with your old hag on TV. Now everyone in LA knows.

Any sports fan in LA knows that a whole lot less than all of LA gets Sportsnet lol. So I wasn’t worried that everyone in LA saw us. Besides, who the fuck cares?

— Hunter Block the stud has to have sex with someone old enough to be his mother because he can’t get any hot chicks.

I really didn’t want to see her that night and have her make another scene in public. But I also wasn’t going to break up with her by text. You can’t do that. Not after 10 months. So I texted again that we could discuss it when we saw each other.

— So you can break up with me and hook up with your SENIOR CITIZEN?

Ok, so how do you answer that? While I was figuring it out, she kept going.

— I bet the old witch has money. She’s some OLD rich Pasadena bitch who’s PAYING to have a boyfriend. How much is a night with Hunter Block?

It got worse.

— I always knew you were a WHORE. Pretty boy faggot whore.

And there we were again. Only by text, so I couldn’t walk out on her.

Then she texted W H O R E one letter at a time.

Three times.

— Fuck off Monica.

— WHORE. PROSTITUTE. PUTA.

So I texted that I was going to tell her this the right way, but if this was the way she was going to talk to me, I was gonna tell her now and by text.

— I think we need to break up.

I know a phone can just play sounds when you get a text, but I swear I saw smoke coming out of mine. But I’d said my piece…and there was nothing she could do. So I just let her keep going

I won’t give y’all every text she sent. But this one was too fucked up not to tell you about:

— If you think I’m going to let you put ur SMALL COCK in me after it’s been in that old hag’s dried up vagina, you’re delusional.

I ain’t making this up. I probably should have deleted the whole thing and blocked her crazy ass…but, be honest, would any of y’all have done that? First of all I needed the texts to show Keaton lol. Second I wanted to see what happened next.

The fucked in the head texts kept coming. And I reckoned that the way to hold onto my balls was to ignore the rest of them.

At least she made it easy. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to break up with Monica, but that was before she started acting so batshit crazy and calling me names I’d have knocked a dude out cold for calling me. But the sex was great, and she was enough girlfriend so I had a girlfriend and didn’t have to go shopping for sex all the time…but not so much girlfriend that I couldn’t have a life, play softball and hang out with my buddies.

So I’m down to one girlfriend. 30 chicks/30 days was way easier than this shit.

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