Read Online Has Anyone Seen My Pants? by Sarah Colonna - Free Book Online

also very, very worked up about my newfound friendship with Baseball Player, and by “worked up,” I still mean “horny.”
    We were en route when I got a response from Baseball Player. I read it to the girls: “It says ‘Thank You’ and there’s a smiley face.”
    The smiley face threw me off at first since he’s a man and a professional athlete, but I’ve since reconciled with the fact that everyone loves emoticons, even grown men . . . in fact, now I do, too. I can’t even bring myself to think about what life would be like without emoticons.
    “A smiley face ? But he’s a professional baseball player!” Tara noted.
    “Maybe he’s an emotional one,” I said, defending him.
    “Smiley face or not, you need to give him your phone number,” Stephanie demanded.
    “I agree, but you can’t just send your phone number out to the world!” Tara chimed in.
    “She won’t send it to the world, Tara, she can DM it to him. He follows her!”
    “What’s a DM?” Tara asked.
    Stephanie rolled her eyes. Poor Tara, she is such a normal, non-social-media-obsessed person.
    “It means I can send him a private message and nobody else will see it,” I explained.
    “That’s amazing. What’s a private message?” Tara asked.
    “We don’t have time to walk through all the mechanics of this for you, Tara, let’s just get him Sarah’s phone number, okay?”
    Tara agreed, then we all debated how to send him the message. I was nervous, though. Why was I sending him my phonenumber? We hadn’t even met! “What if he’s just trying to be nice, or just be friends, and all of a sudden I send my number all aggressive-like and creep him out?”
    “He’s a Major League Baseball player ,” Stephanie retorted. “ That’s yourreason for sending him your phone number if you think you need a reason, but I don’t think he gives a shit about your motivation.”
    Moments later I sent Baseball Player a DM, saying that we should get a drink next time his team was in town playing. And of course, I included my phone number to “make it easier to get in touch with me.”
    Tara, Stephanie, and I continued to enjoy our vodka sodas aboard the Amtrak, my favorite transportation method to Angel Stadium (a.k.a. “the Big A”). Seconds later, I received a text message: “Hey there, it’s me, plug my number in!”
    My vagina exploded. Tara and Stephanie’s vaginas exploded a little as well; they really wanted me to get penetrated by Baseball Player . . . they’re good friends.
    Next came a series of texts that were mostly constructed by Tara and Stephanie, as I was too nervous/excited/dumb to have any idea how to respond on my own.
    “Tell him to have a great game today,” Stephanie ordered.
    “Tell him you’re wearing a low-cut shirt,” Tara suggested.
    “Ask him where he stays when the team comes to town,” Stephanie chimed in.
    “Tell him you’re not wearing any underwear!” Tara demanded.
    “Okay, too far,” Steph said.
    “I agree. Plus, I am wearing underwear; I don’t want our relationship to start out with a lie.”
    A compromise was made and I ended up texting him a photo of the three of us, now in our seats at the Big A, beers in hand, carefully featuring my deep V-neck T-shirt and zero reference to whether or not I was wearing underwear.
    “You need one of my shirts,” Baseball Player responded.
    Was that a statement or a flirt? I couldn’t tell. “What is he talking about? Why do I need one of his shirts? Does he mean mine is too low-cut and I look like a slut and he wants me to cover myself up like a lady?”
    “He’s a Major League Baseball player ,” Stephanie retorted. “He means you should be wearing one of his shirts, like from his team . . . duh!”
    “Exactly . . . and he wants it on the floor of his bedroom,” Tara explained.
    “We’ll handle this,” Stephanie said as she grabbed my phone.
    I was terrified, but I allowed the girls to take complete charge of the situation. I