My people... how do I date one?

A couple of years ago, not long after my ex and I split up, I went on a semi-blind date. I was nowhere close to being over the break up, but I felt like it couldn't hurt to put myself out there again. I say semi-blind date because I knew two things about him: like me, he was Jewish and into baseball. If that's not a match made in heaven, then I don't know what is. Except for the fact that I have never dated my people. I dated a half-Irish, half-Jewish kid once. He was a wrestler in law school. That didn't end well.

But I digress.

I didn't want to be judgmental from the get-go, but his kid was maybe three or four inches taller than me, skinny, and well, Jewish. Aside from the wrestler, I've only dated large football players. Either large as in tall or large as in fat or large as in both, and I felt very comfortable in their giant presence. Large this kid was not. From the moment we walked from his apartment to the restaurant, everything was awkward. It could have been my fault: I kept staring at his reddish hair and thinking, 'Here we go again.' I hope he couldn't hear my thoughts. They were loud in my head. It didn't help that he brought up his ex five minutes into the walk. I figured at least I'll get a free burger out of this. And it better be the greatest burger that I've ever consumed.

We went to Black Bear in Hoboken, but it was a Friday and Hoboken and the bar-restaurant had a thirty minute wait, so we decided to go across the street to grab a pre-dinner drink. I ordered a Bud Light, and Skinny Redhead seemed impressed. "You got a beer!" he exclaimed. "Yes. Yes I did," I replied, confused. "A lot of girls don't get beer. Especially on a first date," he explained. Well damnit if I'm not special. I had nothing to say to this kid, and I never have nothing to say. Thankfully, the Mets game was on, and they were playing the Padres. I don't remember much about the game except that the Mets came back to win, even with Oliver Perez closing. Perez is to me what Armando Benitez is to all Mets fans - a general pain in the ass who causes nothing but mini heart attacks every time he gets on the mound. I've literally bitten through shirts because Perez's poor pitching stressed me out that badly. Without thinking, I went on a rant about Perez and the rest of the Mets pitching staff, how even though it was only April, the only times the Mets could win was when Johan Santana started. Most people advise against rants on first dates.

Scrawny Redhead smiled. Then he started talking baseball. Let me be honest: at least one of my brilliant lines came directly from an announcer I heaed talking about the Mets on SportsCenter as I was putting on makeup and strapping my heels for this date. Nonetheless, I could hold my own, and I conversed with this sad Yankees fan that I was stuck on a date with, so I did nothing but talk sports and his ex. Classy.

As we said good night, S.R. seemed impressed. "I didn't think you were really a sports fan at all. Because of the black jacket and the makeup," he said. Seriously? It was cold. And it was black eyeliner and lip gloss, not Taylor Momsen raccoon-eyes here. It was my turn to smile, then remember two important things: 1) Thank god I love baseball, because it saves you from boring conversations on first dates. 2) Never go on a date just because he's Jewish and loves baseball. Unless he's a baseball player. That's another story, and the only exception to the football player rule.

Anyone have Kevin Youkilis' number?