World's Worst Girlfriend

Kendrie’s boyfriend (future husband and father of her eighteen children, if you ask her) Nicholas is playing his first season of coach pitch baseball this spring, and she has been asking for weeks to attend a game. Most nights his games conflict with her soccer schedule, but tonight worked out so I said I would take her.

We drove up to the baseball complex and got out of the car, and then walked the half mile to the fields. {OK, so it’s not really half a mile, but I was in dress shoes and it sure felt like it.} About the time we reached the complex, I realized I didn’t know exactly where he was playing. There are six fields, and a ton of people milling around, and since I’m basically lazy and didn’t want to walk one step farther than I had to, I reached in my purse for my cell phone in order to call his parents and find out which field they were on. Naturally, my cell phone was still plugged up to the charger in my car. Figures.

So I turned to Kendrie and asked, “Do you know what field Nicholas is playing on tonight? Which number field?”

“Um, no” she said.

“Do you know what color his jersey is? We could probably find his team easier that way.”

“Um, no” she said.

“Well, do you even know his team name? That might help us find him.”

“Yes! I definitely know that! He plays for the Braves. See? I even wore my Braves t-shirt to cheer for him.”

And I looked down and realized that yes, she had changed out of the clothes she wore to school and put on her Braves t-shirt, in order to properly root for her boyfriend. Nice show of support, but still, we had no idea where to go.

So I sighed, and said, “Well, if you don’t know his shirt color, I guess we’ll just wander around until we find his parents or see him on a field, never mind that I’m carrying both chairs, my Sonic cup, my sweater, your jacket, and my purse, and will probably need corrective lumbar surgery before all is said and done.”

Kendrie looked up at me, with the saddest look on her face, and said: “I’m sorry I don’t know his shirt color. {pause} I am a TERRIBLE girlfriend!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how sincere and dejected she was with herself.

We found the field, which was thankfully not too far. And we found Nicholas’ parents, and looked out on the field to see him. And saw that his team was called the Red Sox. And the team they were PLAYING AGAINST was the Braves.

And again, Kendrie shook her head disgustedly and said, “He’s not the Braves? I am a TERRIBLE girlfriend.”

Honey, no. Dating a boy, wrecking his car, running up his charge card, hacking into his e-mails, hocking his great-grandmother’s ring, dumping him for his best friend and leaving him with a crushed ego, an empty bank account, and a scorching case of herpes … THAT is a terrible girlfriend.

Wearing the opposing team’s jersey to a baseball game? Not so much.