Meathead

Monday, August 9, 2010

A few years ago, I dated a guy that I nicknamed “Meathead.” Meathead’s life revolved around lifting weights, drinking collagen (he did have great skin and hair) and the Baltimore Ravens’ season schedule.

Our first date was at a Raven’s game, so I did what any normal, single girl would do to prepare: high-tailed it to Pentagon City Mall to buy Raven’s paraphernalia. His team spirit was beyond compare, and I wanted to rise to the occasion. Lo and behold, I found the perfect t-shirt in the boys’ department of Macy’s for five bucks.

The game landed on a cold, rainy night in December. My toes and fingers were frostbitten, and I couldn’t care less as to which team won, but I cheered the Ravens on to show my support. Since he was in his glory, I learned more about Meathead in those few hours than I did on any subsequent date.

In the end, the Ravens lost and our relationship fizzled well before the Super Bowl. We really didn’t have much in common and conversing with him was like pulling teeth. But I appreciate his passion looking back.

Right before the start of the next season, I met another die-hard, Raven’s season-ticket holder with even more enthusiasm (and better seats). We ended up cheering the Ravens on together at three games and are heading into our third season together.

Romance may not have come as quickly as I had expected, but I garnered a new-found interest in football. Every date has something to offer, right? Share your stories and comments with me at littleredbook@northernvirginiamag.com.

–Katie