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Modern Dating
The time I went on a date with Ryan … and his date
It’s March in Phoenix. I’m shoehorned into a row of folding chairs in center left at Chase Field, looking up at a Jumbotron, watching Billy Joel’s hands glide effortlessly across his keyboard. Strangely, they look bruised and scraped, as if he’s been in a brawl.
I’m lukewarm about the musician known as the piano man. I like his music well enough, but I’ve never put out even ninety-nine cents to download one of his tunes. I prefer baseball to Billy, so I’m taking time to appreciate what it takes to drive a ball this far from home plate.
My friend, Ryan, offered me a free ticket to see Billy, so what the hell, I thought, why not? I rarely get to concerts anymore, so it seemed like a good way to spend a Saturday night.
Ryan and I are sitting together. My wife — a good sport — is at home, watching television, while Ryan and I are on a date. More accurately, I’m with Ryan and his date, but she’s sitting in center right field with her best friend, Dirk.
Ryan has been on the dating scene for about a year. After thirty-odd years, he sought a divorce from his wife, who preferred playing Words with Friends to having deep, candid conversations about love, life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and other such things.
