It was during a softball game that I fell in love, or maybe it was lust, with my husband. We’d been to dinner for our first date and he invited me to come along afterward to watch him play his game, which is the reason I hesitate to say “love.” How can you know you love someone in three hours? At the very least, I knew I liked the way he looked out there and I wanted to learn more about that body. Oh, and the guy inside it, too, of course.
He loves to reminisce about the moment after the game when I reached out to grab his hand on our walk to the car. He says I touched both his hand and his heart and he was hooked. Little did he know, I was going for a butt grab but missed.
Since that first game, I’ve tried to be there every time my husband played softball, because I like to watch him play. He has a childlike joy for the game, like he’s doing it for the first time, every time. But in hot, sweaty, super-sexy man body.
Last night, he had the opportunity to play at Firestone Stadium for a charity game. He played it off like it was no big deal, but in reality, it meant a lot to him. He’s always wanted to play there. And I know he got a thrill at being called out on the field at the start of the game. So did the girls. Their Daddy was a sports hero.
He played first base during the first half of the game and made some great plays.
He wasn’t too happy with his hitting, but it all looked good from my angle.
The kids had the chance to run the bases during the seventh inning stretch.
My husband was the only player to run them with his kids. And that makes him more attractive to me than anything.