The other night, the guy I’m dating asked me to hang out. We went to the movies, shared some popcorn, held hands. It was sweet. A solid date with a dude I like. Good stuff. As we were leaving, I asked, “Where to next?”
“I thought we could go to a sports bar and catch the end of the Bulls/Heat game,” he suggested. “Are you cool with that?”
He looked at me, waiting for my reaction. I froze. Those who know me well know that I HATE sports. I hate watching them, playing them, talking about them. Sports are just not my thing. This guy knows that too. I was ready to say “hell no!,” to crinkle my nose in a “bitch, please!” fashion. Keep reading »




















