Running the Bases - Definitely Not a Book About Baseball

by Paul Kropp

  I turned red in the face. So did Maggie. Please, please, I prayed, don’t let him read it out loud. Anything but that, dear Lord.

  The Lord answered my prayer, or else the test ran long and took up the entire period, whatever. Mr. Greer did not read Maggie’s list aloud, but that did not stop him from grinning at the whole class as we marched out.

  “Alan, just wait up until everyone is out, please,” he said.

  So I stood there, looking at my feet, as everyone in class looked at me and the ominous piece of paper in Mr. Greer’s hands.

  When the others had left, Maggie at the end of the file, I had to wait another ten seconds or so in terrible silence. They were very long seconds. They were seconds when you could hear the second hand click ahead on the clock. Finally Mr. Greer handed me Maggie’s notes and nodded.

  “This is a cheat sheet, Alan,” he said, “but not for math.” He paused for a second. “Good luck, my boy. From the look of this, you’ll need it.”

  PROJECT: ALAN

  Instruction set 1

  Your immediate objective is to get a date, Alan. Your long-term objectives probably include kissing, making out and getting laid, but stick to your immediate objective for now. Arrange for coffee tomorrow, then follow these instructions.

  What to talk about:

  Her. No topic will be more fascinating to Mel Halvorsen than herself. Admire her hair, her eyes, her brains, her charm, her wit. Girls love praise and admiration. Lay it on thick.

  Her interests. Find out something about field hockey. Talk about it. I hear she watches her brother’s football games—ask her about them.

  Her concerns, thoughts, etc. Since she’s only sixteen, it’s likely that Mel doesn’t have many thoughts…but admire whatever she puts forward.

  Alan, you’ll notice that there’s no room in the list above for YOUR interests. Therefore, do not talk about video games, your favourite TV shows, your problems in school or your jerky friends. Nobody cares.

  Do’s

  Look at her eyes. Keep your eyes up there, buddy.

  Use sucky phrases like “Gosh, that’s a really interesting idea,” or “How do you keep your hair so perfect all the time?” Resist the natural urge to vomit as you spew these lies.

  Be funny. Girls love a guy who can make them laugh. Find a joke on the Internet (a clean one), memorize it and tell it.

  Be confident. Pretend you’ve done this before. Don’t admit that you’ve never had a date or been within kissing distance of a girl.

  Stick to your immediate goal. You want a date, period. A movie is quick and cheap. If you took her to dinner, you’d have to listen to her for an hour or so and that could be more than anyone could stand.

  Don’ts

  Don’t look at her breasts, legs or navel (even if it’s showing). As I said, keep your eyes up there, buddy.

  Don’t talk or brag much about yourself. She’ll be bored with your life and annoyed by your bragging. Humble is good.

  Don’t be a wimp. Confidence should rule the day. Take charge, but don’t be bossy.

  Don’t badmouth anyone. (They might be her friends, you never know.)

  Don’t give up. She may say no about tomorrow but be okay for next week. If she’s unsure, tell her you’ll call. Pretend that you’re crazy about her and you just won’t give up. Girls love a lovesick guy, unless he gets too lovey or too sicky.

  Further instructions will follow. Good luck.

  I folded that paper neatly and put it in my pocket. It made me feel good—a whole set of instructions on how to get started with Mel Halvorsen. Maggie had done her job and now I was ready, ready to take on anything.

  I found Mel at her locker at the end of the day. She was alone. I took a deep breath and got ready: confident, funny, eyes up, think of the goal, don’t give up. Got it. Chest out. Step up and do it.

  “Hey, Mel,” I said. Confident. Assured.

  “Hi, Alan.”

  Now for the opening line I had so carefully prepared. “I was hoping to see you at the dance last week. I’ve heard you’re a really great dancer.” Eyes on her eyes. Smile. Don’t blink. Lay it on thick.

  “Oh, thanks, I…well, I don’t know. I just didn’t go.”

  “Well, I was disappointed. The only reason I went was to see you.” This is a blatant lie, but I mustn’t twitch or make a face. Resist the urge to vomit.

  “Oh,” she said. I believe she was blushing. Was it possible that she was more nervous than I was?

  “So I was wondering if you’d like to go out for coffee after school tomorrow. I’d meet you here and we could just walk over.” That’s it, cool and straightforward.

  “Oh, tomorrow, well, I can’t,” she said, her voice low.

  Uh-oh, I told myself. For a second I lost eye contact, but then I caught myself. Don’t give up, Maggie had written.

  “So Friday,” I suggested. Be ready, I told myself. If it’s no, be ready.

  “Oh, Friday would be great. I’d love to.”

  Was that a smile on her face? Was she actually happy that I had asked her out? Were those perfect teeth and those wonderful lips smiling just for me?

  Damn right they were!

  6

  Achieving Goal One

  “THAT’S A PRETTY stupid list,” Jeremy said after I let him read Maggie’s instructions. I told him that Maggie was just helping me out, as a friend. But Jeremy was unimpressed. “Where’s all the stuff about being smooth and masculine and way cool? I mean, how is all this going to get you laid?”

  “We’re just going for coffee,” I told him. “My goal is a date, not a home run. Stick to the goal, that’s point number five. Date first, more stuff later.”

  “I tell you, Al, that’s not my style. You’ve got to move in fast and smooth. A little sexy talk, a touch, a squeeze, a kiss and then some tongue. Hot guys seize the advantage and get laid. Nice guys end up stuck with Hannah the Honker or whipping their own pizoozi.”

  “We’re just going for coffee,” I repeated.

  He sighed. “Well, if it goes nowhere, I gave you my best advice.”

  The trouble with Jeremy is that he’s got too much experience. Maybe if you’ve gone out with a dozen girls you can just move in and have them panting for you in a couple of minutes. But I hadn’t been out with a dozen girls, not even a couple, not even one. This was date numero uno, and it wasn’t even a date; it was just coffee. It was really a pre-date. The overture to a date, as our music teacher might say.

  “You look good, Al,” Maggie told me.

  I looked up at her and practised. Keep your eyes on her eyes, I reminded myself. I noticed that Maggie was once again without glasses.

  “Uh, so do you,” I replied.

  “Pretty good,” she told me. “A little faster with the compliment, though, and maybe some enthusiasm? But I like the eye contact. Remember, a little more praise would be good. Can’t have too many compliments.”

  “Well, you look great Maggie,” I told her, smiling just a little. “Your eyes are so sparkling today that it’s hard for me to concentrate.”

  “I like that. A little bit of insincerity always helps.”

  “Well, it’s true,” I said, dropping the pose and coming back to reality. “You give up your glasses, or what?” Maggie had been wearing glasses for as long as I could remember. They had come in various sizes, shapes and colours.

  “Got contacts,” she said, blushing just a little. “I figured if hot guys like you were going to start coming on to me, I might as well try to look like a sex kitten.”

  I’m not sure that Maggie would fulfill most definitions of sex kitten. She was a little too skinny and a little too boyish and had a few too many freckles on her cheeks. But she was cute in a funny kind of way.

  “Well, you do look great,” I said.

  “And you, too, buddy. Now go out there, keep your eyes on her eyes. Just listen to her as if she were the most fascinating person on the planet and you’ll get your date. I’ve got your next set of instr
uctions just about ready.”

  “More instructions?”

  “I’ve got faith in you, Al, but not that much faith.”

  With that vote of confidence, I got ready to meet Mel. Before last class I took off for the bathroom, zapped my mouth with breath freshener, took another swipe at my armpits with deodorant and checked the remaining zits on my face for threatened eruptions. All systems were go.

  So I felt semi-confident when I met Melissa at her locker. She was looking pretty hot, with a tight top that attracted far more than the passing glance I was allowed to give it, a decent chunk of midriff looking very bare indeed and a pair of jeans that might have been spray-painted on.

  “Hi there,” I said, my eyes trained on her face. “You look great. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

  “Well, thanks,” she said. “Me too.” Then she giggled. I hadn’t realized that she was a giggler, but in grade ten I guess all the girls were gigglers.

  “Ready for a frappuccino?” I asked. It sounded oh, so suave.

  “How about a latte?” she replied.

  “Anything for you, Mel,” I told her as we headed down the hall. She had her books pulled up against her breasts in that way girls always do, but I didn’t look. I kept my eyes up, up, up.

  “Tell me, have you always liked lattes, or is this something new?”

  “Well, I had my first one in, like, grade seven,” she began, and then the words began to pour forth. Not only was Mel a giggler, she was a talker. In the next twenty minutes, I learned more about her personal history as a coffee drinker than I would ever need to know. By the time we were sitting at one of those little Starbucks tables, she had somehow done a segue into conversation that ranged from her social studies teacher to her brother’s lousy table manners to how she got sparkle on her nails.

  I listened attentively. I looked into her eyes. I looked down at her nails. I did not look at her breasts, even after she spilled some coffee on one of them, nor did I offer to wipe the spilled coffee off, though I was sorely tempted. Keep your mind on the goal, I told myself. Keep your eyes up; lay on the praise.

  After an hour, I think I had complimented her eyes (many times), her smile (many times), her teeth (a couple), her laugh (once), her voice (several), her wit (once), her insight (once) and her math skills (a cost comparison of lattes versus espressos—once). I didn’t even have time to use my joke (memorized) and my obscure coffee facts (taken from the Internet) in case of any awkward silences. There were no silences, awkward or otherwise. So I figured it was time.

  “Have you seen that new Jim Carrey movie at the Capitol? It’s supposed to be pretty funny.” I tried to sound cool and offhand, as if this were just idle conversation.

  “No, not yet,” she said. “I’d like to, though.”

  “How about tomorrow night? Are you busy?”

  “Well, I’m supposed to babysit. But how about next Saturday?”

  “That would be great,” I said. “I’ll check the times and give you a call. Oh yeah, I need your number.”

  “Oh, sure,” she said. She grabbed a brown Starbucks napkin and wrote out her phone number in big block printing. Then she stuffed it in my pants pocket so I couldn’t lose it.

  When we left Starbucks, I wasn’t sure whether I should walk her home or not. She made the answer pretty clear by grabbing my hand. It wasn’t long before we got to her house and she had to go in.

  “Thanks for walking me,” she said in about the sweetest voice I’d ever heard.

  “No problem,” I blurted out. I think ninety minutes of attentive niceness was about my limit.

  “And just one thing, Alan,” she said. “You’ve got a little bit of cappuccino on your upper lip.”

  “Up here?” I said, reaching up with my hand.

  “No,” she replied, “bend over and I’ll get it.”

  So I did, and suddenly I felt her lips on mine, and then her tongue seemed to swipe over my upper lip.

  “There,” she said while I tried to breathe again. “That got it. See you Saturday.”

  I stood there, unable to speak. I had been kissed. I hadn’t asked for a kiss, or expected a kiss or even deserved a kiss, but I got one. I felt like shouting, “HEY, I JUST GOT MY VERY FIRST REAL KISS!” But instead I stood there, dumbfounded.

  “Call me,” she said.

  “I will,” I sighed. “I will.” And then she was gone, dancing up the steps to her front door.

  7

  More Instructions

  SOMEHOW I MADE it to my house. For once in my life, I was unaware of my clunky feet and my awkward body. I floated. My mind was stuck on that wonderful moment when her lips touched mine. It was spectacular.

  I must still have been beaming from Mel’s kiss when I sat down at the dinner table. My mother gave me a peculiar look.

  “You’re looking very cheerful, Alan,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, I’m feeling cheerful,” I told her. “I’ve got a date for next Saturday.”

  “A date?” she said. “That’s wonderful,” she cooed. This must be one of those great moments in parenting, the son gets his very first date. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

  “Melissa Halvorsen,” I said.

  “I think I know her dad,” my father piped up. “Big guy. Used to be a wrestler or something.”

  “I’m not dating her dad, Dad.”

  “Well, do have a good time,” my mother said. “And be respectful. Girls always like that. Respect and good manners are so important.”

  “So you got tongue!” Jeremy shouted. “I can’t believe it. You take the chick out for coffee and you got tongue.”

  “Just a little tongue,” I told him.

  “Al, you are a mover, I mean a mover. All this time, I figured you were just watching the Weather Channel, but you must have been working on your technique. The way you’re going, she’ll probably jump your bones right in the movie.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I do,” Jeremy said. “The important thing is to move fast. No more nice-guy stuff—move as fast as you can and get as much as you can, if you know what I mean.”

  I wasn’t sure what Jeremy meant, but I pretended I had some idea. I gave him a conspiratorial wink, as if my sex life were about to reach levels not even reported in Maxim magazine.

  I emailed Maggie about the upcoming date and she replied with a few encouraging words. But when I actually saw Maggie at school the next week, she gave me a weird look. It was almost as if she were studying my face. It made me feel awkward.

  “She kissed you, didn’t she.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “You’ve got that look—that mixture of amazement and lust,” she replied, shaking her head. “I should have remembered that Mel’s not all that innocent. She’s had a boyfriend. From the rumours after they split up, they went a long way.”

  “Really?” My ears pricked up.

  “But don’t get your hopes too high, Al. Just don’t blow it on the first date. Who knows, a girl who’ll give you a kiss even before the first date might just be the one to get you to the Ultimate Goal.”

  I said nothing, but my mind was running rampant.

  “Anyhow, I’ve written out a second set of instructions. Study these and don’t screw up.”

  Project: Alan

  Instruction set 2

  Review the previous instruction set. Memorize it. Take this test:

  My eyes should be focussed on (a) her eyes, (b) her boobs, (c) the floor.

  The biggest interest that Mel has is (a) herself, (b) you, (c) school.

  If you’re stuck, you can always talk about (a) Mel’s eyes, (b) computers, (c) Mr. Greer.

  If you chose answer (a) in each case, you’re ready to proceed. If you chose answer (b), you’re hopeless and should go into a monastery or buy a trenchcoat and rent DVDs. Answer (c) merely shows confusion; go back and study the previous memo.

  —

  I’m assuming you passed the test. I’ve got faith
in you, Al. You can do this.

  First-date basics:

  Your goal for now is a second date. Focus on the second date.

  Be patient. Patience is one of the seven virtues (we’ll ignore the others for a while). Do not push the Ultimate Goal.

  Do not grope, manhandle or squeeze any body parts, even if offered the opportunity to do so. See point 2, on patience, above.

  Above all, do not remove clothing or place your hand beneath said clothing: this is a serious first-date no-no. That’s what second dates are all about.

  Be attentive, charming, funny and polite. (Review previous notes.)

  Don’t rush a conclusion to the date if things are going well. (There’s that patience thing again.)

  What to talk about:

  As you’ve already discovered, Mel likes to do all the talking. Relax and listen.

  Everybody likes a good listener, even me.

  Things not to say:

  Oops, my hand slipped.

  I thought you were paying for the ticket.

  Do you always put on lipstick a little crooked?

  Whatever is making me itch, I don’t think it’s contagious.

  Have you ever thought about trying Dr. Phil’s new diet?

  Some notes on kissing:

  I realize that you’ve already gotten one kiss, but that’s only a beginning. Since most guys haven’t got a clue about kissing, let me give you a few pointers:

  A kiss is a culmination of feeling, it isn’t a starter. Thus it’s better to wait for the right moment than to thrust out your lips too soon.

  Your breath and/or gleaming smile is not nearly as important as Clorets would have you believe. Nonetheless, garlic must be a joint venture and a bit of gum never interfered with a kiss.