Baseball Booty and Cream Cheese


For the past couple of weeks, I have been seeing this guy named Evan. We met out one night and he is so insanely sexy. But of course, the second I found out what he does, he became even more sexy as if that was even possible.Evan is… 

  • 26
  • a minor league baseball player-first baseman 
  • 6’4″
  • 225 lbs of pure baseball booty 
  • hot 
  • and pretty damn sweet too

AKA, Evan is freaking perfect. The only problem, and it’s kind of a big one, is that he is in town only to play  for the local minor league team and the instant the season is over, Evan is back to the great state of California. 

Last night, the season unexpectedly ended for Evan’s team. He texted me at 4:00 p.m. that he would be flying home the very next morning. I actually felt sad. Like a pit in my stomach. This feeling alarmed me because it doesn’t happen often! Normally, I am an island. Pretty damn nonchalant to most everybody and every relationship. This time though, I was bummed. 

The team was on the way back from a series of games in Louisiana and we had been playing on having me pick him up from the bus at 10:00 p.m. when they arrived. This would be his last night in Mississippi. Throwing all morals and hesitations aside, I decided quietly to myself, “Yep, I am totally going to sleep with him. Yep. It’s happening,”. Because it’s fucking baseball booty and you DON’T say no to that. 

So naturally, I wore some pretty little outfit and waited patiently behind the charter bus as 50 something baseball booties unloaded and wandered on home to their families, friends, parents, and slam pieces, like me! Evan, who lives out of one suitcase, loaded on up into my SUV and we went on home too. 

And y’all, he was so damn hot. 

Anyways. He stayed the night and I dropped him off at the airport on my way to teach children… *insert guilty feelings here. We hugged and kissed goodbye and I watched him wander into the terminal with his one suitcase, tight ass, and bag of baseball bats. Sigh, goodbye you beautiful creature. 

By the time I got to work, I had a text from Evan. “So sad leaving you 😦 Since I never got to take you out to do something fancy, I left you a little present under your cream cheese in the fridge. Just wanna help you out when I can,”. 

First of all, what the fuck?! He left me a present under the cream cheese? That is the weirdest place to leave a present. Second, did this dude just leave me cash-money?! 

Now I have to wait all fucking day to find out how much he left me! my mind was bursting with curiosity. 

Finally, a long 2.5 hours after the work day technically ended, I made it on home and went straight for the fridge. 


And then I’m pretty sure I blacked out. 

The dude left me $185…. I’m not sure if this makes me a prostitute or a sugar baby… but I honestly didn’t ask for either! Now, as a very independent person, I was a little pissed. I don’t need your name money, I take care of myself and I kick ass doing it. But then, I just shrugged it off. 

The envelope had his name on it (blurred out), so I’m pretty sure it’s money his baseball team gives him for travel funds. But fuck! I’ll take it… I can decide whether or not this means I was paid for sex or “well taken care of” later, while I’m on my shopping spree.

My life is a joke! Awesome, but a fucking joke! 


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