What is up, Daddy Gang? It is your founding father, Alex Cooper, with Call Her Daddy. Welcome back to another episode of Call Her Daddy. Next week, I am going to be doing something that will probably piss a lot of my exes off. Not that I haven't already done that enough on this show, but this, truly this feels like the icing on the cake. It feels like the cherry on top to all of my ex-baseball lovers, the ones who pitched, the ones who caught the balls, the ones who hit, never the bench riders. I never fucking soup that low. But to all my men in uniform, this one is for you. I am officially the owner of a Major League baseball team. You work for me now, bitches. I'm fucking kidding, obviously. I'm going to need a couple more deals before I can even get there, but a girl can dream. But I actually do have an announcement to make today. I have officially been invited by the Boston Red Sox to throw out the first pitch for a game at Fenway Park. And To top it all off, I will be hosting an unwell party on top of the Green Monster.

Not only am I going back to my old stomping grounds, I am bringing the Daddy Gang with me. So you may be wondering, how did this come about? How did this So basically, the Red Sox organization reached out to my company after they saw our first unwell event in Austin, Texas, which was one of the best parties I've ever been to, if I do say so myself. And they basically reached out and said, We want Alex and Unwell to do an event here in Boston with us. Now, are they aware of my history within their organization? I don't know. But by the time this episode has come out, it'll be too late for them to rescind the offer. If you are O-G here, you are very aware that I have quite the history with the city of Boston, specifically the Red Sox organization, and most importantly, the players, or I guess, one in particular. So let's go back to the beginning. Where it all started. Boston. When did I go to college? It was Boston. Oh, my God. 2013. Oh, my fucking God. It's been... Wait, 2029, 2020, that's It's 11 years? 11 years? Is that 11 years?

No wonder they invited me back. Everyone that I was fucking with is either retired or dead. God bless and good night. They're like, We don't even know who you're talking about. Perfect. Can't get sued. Let's do it. Daddy Gang, sit back, relax, get your snacks ready in a bottle of wine, because I'm about to tell you the tale of a young small town girl who showed up to college and found herself in a whirlwind romance with none other than a Red Sox player. So let's get into it. So let me mentally prepare you that this is a story of new beginnings, first loves, fairytale experiences, humiliation, trauma, heartbreak, deceit, lies, and agony. Are you ready, Daddy Gang? Here we go. So I was a freshman in college at Boston University, and I was in my dorm room. I remember I was writing a paper for finals for some class or attempting to write a paper. When all of a sudden, I heard my entire dorm building erupt with screams. Everyone around campus was going insane, screaming, horns, honking, pots, pants, smashing. The The Red Sox had just won the World Series. And little did I know, freshman Alex, that a year later, I was going to fall in love with one of those players.

I will never forget the day that we met. It was my sophomore year of college, and it was Super Bowl weekend. The Patriots were in the Super Bowl. So this was fucking huge for Boston. And my roommate and I were at the point where we knew if we wanted to have a wild night out, we absolutely had to venture off campus because to be real, we were just getting bored with the college boys. You guys know how it is. As big as a college campus is, you really are just hanging out with the same group of people weekend after weekend after weekend. And so my roommate and I were naturally looking for more. So we headed downtown, and we went to this bar called West End Johnny's. And the minute we walked in, we realized that Bruins players were at the bar. And I have said this before, if you're new here, hockey players have always been my type. Not anymore, but they were back in the day. My dad worked for the NHL growing up. So hockey players really just did it for me. So when I saw the Bruins players, my roommate and I immediately were just so excited.

We knew it was going to be a good night. Like, professional athletes at a fucking bar in college. Are you fucking kidding me? We're drooling. We hit the goddamn gold mine. So there were about seven to 10 professional hockey players at this point. Nice asses, good hair, probably no teeth, but who cares? Make out with my face. So not long after being there, I remember one of the guys started talking to me. Now, here's the thing. I've always been very strategic about the men I'm going for. Most of the time I meet a man, I already know who he is. He doesn't know who I am, but I know who he is. And so I had seen this guy on social media, probably also on the Bruins roster that I frequently would peruse whenever I got bored with studying. It was honestly one of my favorite pastimes. Open the Bruins roster, see who's new, see who's fresh meat, let's get after it. Who do I have my eye on? And this guy was so fucking hot, and I was just so happy to finally meet him in person. I'm talking to this guy. I turned to my left.

My roommate is making out with one of the Bruins players up against the bar. She then quickly realizes that he was absolutely married. She's Is that a motherfucking ring? He's like, Yeah, but we have off night. She's like, Fuck you. It was just one of those nights. That's just a classic night out. It's going to be fucking amazing. And we're only 30 minutes in. So the vibes are flowing. The drinks are flowing. Back to me. I'm in the middle of making headway with this gorgeous long-haired, blue-eyed Canadian man. And all of a sudden, this large, burly, bearded man interjects himself into our conversation and slides his body in front of the hockey player, stares deeply into my eyes and says, Oh, my God. You're a smoke. Yeah, and the ego was like, I was fucking literally, thank you. And I will never forget that moment because it was so abrupt, it was so direct. But at the same time, as charming as it was, I had no idea who this man was. And if I'm being honest, I was probably a little annoyed after my ego was like, oh, man, I'm looking so good in my Forever 21 top.

Thank you. Then I was like, Hold on, you're interrupting my moment with this Bruins player, who I thought, honestly, could potentially be the father of my children one day. So I just brush this guy off, and I'm like, Ha ha, thanks. And then the bearded man proceeded to ask me if he could buy me a drink. Now, I was a slut for a cocktail, okay? At that point, could barely afford ramen noodles to feed myself. So I happily obliged. I'm like, yes, of course, you can get me a drink. I'll take a vodka on the Rocks. No, I think I got a fucking margarita. And so as he's standing there paying for this drink for me. In my mind, I fully had the intention of taking the drink and absolutely leaving. I'm not going to give this man a second to keep talking to me. Girls, you know how this goes. Get the drink and fucking run. I had my my eyes on Hockey Boy. This wasn't the man that was going to screw up my mission. I need this hockey player. And I'll never forget, I'm waiting for this guy as he's buying me a drink, and his back has turned to me.

And a random guy comes up to me, and he's like, Do you know who that is? And he points to the bearded guy. And I'm like, No, absolutely not. I think this is a common civilian. I think he's just a Boston guy that lives in South E. Here's here for a good time. And he's like, He's an athlete. But I'm like, no, he's not on the Bruins because I have the roster memorized, remember? And he's like, yeah, no shit. He's not on the Bruins. He's on the Red Sox, babe. Now, I have said this before, but again, if you're new here, young Alex didn't give a fuck about baseball. My dad never watched it. He called it the boringest sport. I had no interest there for. I just thought it was boring. We didn't watch it growing up. Little did I know. I would soon learn that this sport was about to I'll assume my life for the next few years. So I decided to go along with this guy, and I was like, Okay, who is he? This guy's being so annoying. Also just so cringe. And now, looking back, this friend is the biggest fucking douche, and he's just a full vulture, which I've talked about in the past.

A vulture is where the guy dick rides his rich friend so hard and acts like everything his rich friend has, he has too. Absolutely not. But somehow he always gets fucked. He always gets the leftovers. He always gets the leftovers from the guy that's the There's seven girls with the rich guy, and then at least one is going to be like, I guess I'll fuck the ugly friend because I want to come back next weekend. So he pulls up his... And let me be so clear, I have sometimes met the girl with a vulture. But this is not a story of me fucking the vulture. This is me fucking the leading man. Okay, stay on track, Alex. So this fucking piece of shit pulls up a picture of the bearded man, his friend. And there he is in his Red Sox uniform picture. Right underneath his name was his salary. And it said an absolute gorgeous $16 million a year salary. And in my head, I was like, oh, my God, this is going to be a good night. Not to lie, I actually did feel bad for him. He's just a Boston native. He probably can't afford to buy me a drink.

I'm just going to be nice to the guy, the beard and the whole thing. He wasn't giving famous athlete, okay? We don't all come from trust funds and parents with connections, so we got to make our own connections, ladies, okay? And he seemed like a pretty good connection to have at the time. So instead of fleeing, once he handed me my vodka, I decided that I would see what he's about. And as the night progressed, I I quickly realized that he was, without a doubt, the most outgoing person in the life of the party. All of the Bruins guys I was with earlier were bowing down to this guy. Everyone was treating like he was some Boston royalty. He was the man of the event. Heads turned everywhere. He was moving. I probably didn't notice this at all. I was literally so locked in on this fucking hockey player. Nothing else mattered. But as I opened my eyes, I was like, whoa, why are the Bruins treating him like this? Maybe I should start treating him like this. And it turned out to truly be the best night ever. He bought me and my friend drinks, introduced us to all of his friends.

And when the bar was closing, he invited us to go to an after-party at his place. I remember walking out of Weston Johnny's. There's two big SUVs waiting outside, and me, my friend, and seven other girls got in these SUVs. We went back to his penthouse. Everyone was drinking, music was going. And I remember just feeling so fascinated and just intrigued by this guy and his lifestyle. And I wasn't even necessarily feeling romantic feelings yet at this point. It was more just, honestly, just pure intrigue and awe. Again, I am broke college kid who had been dating college boys, going to their dorm rooms, going to frat parties. I didn't come from money. I had never seen this level of wealth. I had never been in a penthouse in my life. I don't even know what it looked like. I've seen it in movies. But there I am in a penthouse overlooking Boston. There's endless drinks. There's security guards. I'm like, whoa, this is literally the type of shit you see in movies. And I was having a great fucking time. So we all hung out and partied, and me and the bearded guy talked a little bit, but I was quite cautious not to completely fuck it up.

And I just remember I grabbed my roommate and we just snuck out of the party. I think it was at literally 3:00 AM before we got too drunk and did something done. Because in those moments, I was at least smart enough in my drunk case to be like, this is such a big opportunity. I don't know what's going to come from it, but don't do something where you wake up tomorrow and you're like, why did I do that? Aka take my fucking clothes off and run around screaming and getting in his bathtub. Has that happened before? I don't know. Whoa. Maybe that's happened with a different guy that I didn't care about. But for this guy, I knew I needed to actually put the work in if I wanted it to last. And so the next thing I remember, I'm waking up in my dorm room in my twin bed with my PB teen sheets, and I'm getting a phone call at 08:00 AM on a Sunday in college. Who the fuck is calling me on a Sunday this early? And I look at my phone and it's him, and he's calling me. I also remember I saved his name as Weston Johnies, and then his name.

And it was like, holy fuck. I remember in this moment, my brain just started racing. Wait, how does he remember me? I really didn't think he was going to remember me. There were so many girls at this party. And yes, while he made me in moments feel like our interactions were very important and I felt seen in slight moments. I was obviously fucking skeptical. I'm not a full idiot. But I remember in that moment feeling anxious and gitty at the same time. Oh, my God, this man's eyes just opened first thing in the morning, and he's calling me. Life is good. Here we fucking go. So I answer the phone, and I'm like, Hello? And he's like, What are you doing? And I hear music playing. And I'm like, I don't know. It's Sunday. I was just going to go watch the Super Bowl with my teammates at some house. And he was like, get up, get dressed. There's a car outside of your dorm that's picking you up to party with us for the Super Bowl. Bring your friend from last night. I'm like, how does he know where I live? Did my roommate tell him?

I don't know. She ended up actually having told him. So the whole thing, I'm like, I fucking love it. I immediately get up. I get out of my bed. I remember flinging myself out of my twin bed. I'm screaming for my roommate. I'm like, this is the motherfucking life we deserve. My roommate and I sprint out of bed. We're getting our makeup ready. We're putting our outfits on. We were just peaking, honestly. Again, as a 19-year-old girl, this was the most exciting moment of our lives. We were just about to go to a random frat party and sit and watch the football game. And now instead, we're going to this Red Sox guy's penthouse, and we're about to rage with him and all of his friends and teammates. And I truly couldn't even process it. I actually remember I called my mom, and I was like, Mom, guess what we're doing? And she was like, be safe. Have so It's so much fun. Can't wait. So we end up getting to his place, and he can tell we're hungover. And he starts cooking us pizza rolls, and he's making us drinks. And he's really just great vibe, great hang.

I feel like when you think of these type of people, It's like, sit in the corner and wait till the party starts. This man is like Chef Boyardee. Okay, well, they were pizza rolls, so you had to just put them in the fucking oven. But to me, this is a big deal. I'm like, this is so romantic. Oh, my God, he's cooking us food. We then get in a car with him, and he brings to this bar. And for the entire night, I felt like I was truly living my notebook movie fantasy. And I started to wonder, and I would say this is the real moment I started to wonder, do I have romantic feelings for this guy? Is this actually more than just a casual hookup in Boston? Not even a hookup. I think I just was like, could we be friends with him? I also I wasn't sure, is he going to like my roommate? I didn't really know. And I remember I pulled my roommate into the bathroom because he was starting to get a little bit more flirty with me. And I was like, what do I do? And she's like, you make out with him.

What the fuck are you talking about? Make out with him. You guys are so cute already. And I'm like, he's so much older than me, though. And I was torn. And for a little context, this man was 13 years older than me. I was 19, and he was Did he act like he was 32? No. Did I act like I was 19? Absolutely not. I was 25 going on 30. I was so mature at that point. But I loved it. I think really why I pulled my roommate in that moment was I needed her to tell me it was okay and she wasn't going to fucking judge me. When you're wanting something, but you need to make sure your friends aren't going to be like, You're a fucking whore, you piece of shit. It's like hooking up with your own dad. I needed her to be like, This is romance, this is love. This is once in a lifetime. I'm like, go for it, sweetie. Because my body, honestly, during that time at this bar, started to be like, This is everything I wanted, honestly. I remember we leave the bathroom, and then at one point in the night, we're all sitting at this big roped off section that he had for everyone.

And then there's me, a commoner, would have been out in the normal section, but I got to be in this little section with him, feeling important. And he takes my hand and he pulls me up for my seat, and he brings me up to the bar. And he's like, you need another drink. What do you want to drink? And he ends up just ordering us two shots. And we ripped these shots, and he then throws me up on the bar. So I'm sitting on the bar, and his body comes in between my legs. So I'm straddling him, and we just start making out. And it just happens. It all happened. And in my head, I'm like, holy fucking shit. This is a man. I got my hands on his arms. They're huge. I'm like, this is not a college boy. This is a man. This is literally the first man I have hooked up with. And mind you, everyone is staring at this guy because we are with someone that's on the Boston Red Sox. We're in a Boston bar, and the entire bar stood there whistling and cheering and chanting as we're making out.

And nobody knows my name, but people are staring at me and I'm like, this is a really wild feeling. And I was half loving it, obviously. I'm like, I love attention. I'm a Leo. Keep it coming. And then half of me was freaking the fuck out that this would be on Twitter, and my mom and my dad would see this because, yes, she knew I was coming. I told you guys, I gave my mom a heads up. She knew I was coming to this bar to meet a Red Sox player. But to be clear, I did not specify with which player. She probably assumed, Brian, Alex met a young rookie on the Red Sox. It's so cute. She didn't realize it was the veteran, one of the oldest people on the goddamn motherfucking team. Jesus Christ, Alex. So I will be honest, though, that probably lasted in my head for 30 fucking seconds, and I was able to quickly forget all of that. I'm like, goodbye, mom. I'm going to live my life right now. And my college roommate and I truly had one of the best nights of our lives. We always look back at this time and we always say, we will never Never forget that specific night because it really felt like it was a turning point in our college experience.

And we were just exposed to this whole new side of Boston, and we loved it, and who wouldn't? So after that night, it really felt like there was a shift. I had car services picking me up to go to his apartment, and he would invite me down to spring training in Florida to spend a long weekend with him. And I had never experienced anything like this in my life, drivers, and penthouses, and steak dinners, going to baseball games, sitting right behind first base, and then meeting up with him after, and everyone wanting his photo, and photographers. And meanwhile, all of this was completely normal for him, and had been normal for him for quite some time. He had been playing baseball in the MLB for 10 years, and the girls, and the money, and the lifestyle, that was his life that he was very used to. I was just a normal college girl, experienced experiencing his Fame in such a wild way that I will be honest, I definitely got swept up in all of it and felt excited by it. The problem is I was interpreting all of the dinners and the tickets and the nights out together as a sign that he felt the same way about me and that he really liked me.

This was my first true athlete experience. I was so fucking young and naive, and I was completely in over my head. I was truly hanging on for dear life. I'm not proud of it, but this is the honest truth, okay? Some nights I thought I was going to be invited to the game, and then I wouldn't hear from this man. I started to become obsessed, you could say. What? But despite how inconsistent he was, I really thought we had something special in our alone moments. Isn't that what they all say? It's so fucking pathetic. I'm like, no, I promise you guys, this whole episode is going to be me convince you. We were more. We were more than just that. We would have conversations where he would tell me like, oh, I'm different with you. It's literally like a book. I'm different with you. I've never been with a girl like this before. You make me feel so different. Literally stab me in the fucking eyeballs. I'm like, Oh, my God. No way. I know it's a classic red flag, Daddy Gang, but I still I will genuinely believe he meant it. And then things really started to spiral and go downhill, obviously.

I was hearing from him less frequently. We would barely see each other, and I certainly wasn't getting any more lavish gifts. Shout out to the Michael Kaur's backpack and watch that he got me, if you guys are OG, and you remember the story I told you when I was like, this guy made $16 million a year. And I'll quickly tell you guys the story if you're new here. It was preseason when we started talking and all of my friends were in the dorms, all the upperclassmen, everyone was with me. And I'm like, you guys, he sent me gifts for my birthday. And so all the girls come running in and be like, bitch, this guy is so rich. What did he get you? I bet he got you a motherfucking car. You definitely are getting your first Chanel. Oh, my fucking God, bitch, what if it's a Rolex? And I'm like, Guys, I know. Someone film it. Someone film it. This is going to be crazy. And he's texting me like, Did you get your gifts? And I'm literally like, Come around, come around. I literally have my entire team circle around me. I'm like, All right, here we go.

And there's multiple boxes also. So it's like, holy shit. And I open the first little box and we're like, It could be a ring. It could be a ring. I don't want I'm like, Could be a ring? I said, I told you guys he loved me. And I opened the first fucking box and I see gold, and I'm like, Oh. And my friend's like, What is it? What What is it? I'm like, It's a watch. And I open it further, and I see on the fucking gold face plate, Michael Kors. And I'm like, I know. And everyone's like, Cooper, Cooper, show us, show us. And I'm like, It's Michael Kors. And they're all like, literally so sad for me. Like, oh. And mind you, bitches on my fucking soccer team have gotten fucking nicer ass gifts from There are fucking people that go to motherfucking college. And they're all like, Oh. Well, open the next ones. Open the next ones. Open the next ones. So I'm like, I'm going to go for the big box. I'm going to go for the big box. So I open the big box. I'm like, This is going to be good.

This is the Chanel. I open the big box, and I literally open it and I'm like, No. And everyone's like, What? Come on. What is it? And I go, It's a Michael Kors backpack. Like a Michael Kors backpack. And again, you guys, if I'm with my mother, yes, get me a Michael Kors backpack at this point. But you, you who shall not be named, who made so much money, you fucking shit more money in this. You would fucking leave bigger tips to waiters than this backpack cost, motherfucker. And I'm literally like, Here's a Michael Kors backpack. And then one of my friends is like, No, it's the new one. It's the new one. And one girl is like, I have that one. And I'm like,. It just keeps getting worse. But all my teammates are like, All right, there's one more. It's got to be a ring. What if it's a Cartier? What if it's a Cartier ring? And now I'm like, Michael Kors, Michael Kors. I wonder what's in the third box. And I slide the box open. Another Michael Kors watch, and I just Just about die inside. Looking back, here's the thing.

I think he started to pull away because he recognized how much more in love with him I was and where I wanted things to go in the relationship. And he realized he couldn't give that to me. We had a really consistent great couple months of just like, whirlwind. And then I think I naturally got invested. And he was wanting to keep it where it was. But despite all of this, I refuse to give up, and I wasn't going to go down without a fight, okay? So it was one of the weeks that I wasn't really hearing from him, and I had been in his bed the week earlier, and we were just trying to lay the ground work for the upcoming weekend and just trying to gage. I was just trying to see what were his plans. But he was not biting, and he was being vague. Ladies, we all have been there where you're like, Oh, what are you doing this weekend? And it's either like, Oh, want to hang out on Saturday? Or if it's not that, it's the opposite. And there's no in between of like, Yeah, I don't know. I'll hit you up.

I'll let you know. Oh, you're never getting hit up. Just so you know, if he doesn't give you a direct answer of wanting to make plans with you, he doesn't want to make plans with you. I didn't know that at the time. So I was itching for a classic night out with him, and I also knew he had an upcoming home game, which meant he always had plans when he had a home game. This man was a partier who went out after every game win or lose. But sadly, Red Sox man wasn't in the mood to hit the clubs with Lilal and her friends after one of his games. So I was on my own this weekend to fend for myself in the streets of Boston, okay? So my friends and I had made plans of our own and decided to go to this club called Cure. Not long after arriving, none other, okay, I'm at the club with my friends, none other than Red Sox Man walks through the door. Hold on, just pause for a minute. He had told me, oh, babe, I'm not really in the mood. I think I'm going to call an early night.

I'm just going to order in. I'm standing, titties out, short dress, heels on, hair done, And this man walks into the club, surrounded by his teammates and a bunch of girls. And I immediately wanted to throw up. I'm like, Oh, my God, it must be a miscommunication. Oh, my God. My phone must not have service down here. He must have texted me to come out. Something must be wrong. And I was definitely having a fun night with my friends. But once he arrived, obviously, that's all I could focus on. So he's walking in and they are getting escorted to their table. And I'm trying to make eye contact with him so he can see me because I'm convinced, oh, my God, once he sees me, it's over. He's obviously going to invite me over. So I'm trying to shimmy my body through the crowd I'm trying to not be too cringe, but I'm just trying to get him to notice me. I'm literally just scuting through, just trying to get closer to him because a woman is escorting them quickly to this table. And as I get closer, I I'm like, Absolutely make eye contact with him, and he clearly wants nothing to do with me and is fully avoiding eye contact.

I realize he's clearly with another girl who obviously looks very similar to me. So I'm panicking. They get set up at their table and I'm like, Okay, I'm a little embarrassed also. My friends are like, We got this, we got this. And I'm like, Yeah, we got this, we got this. But I'm embarrassed. I'm like, Bitch, I was just in your fucking bed five days ago. How are you going to act? Not even come over and then just don't invite me to your table, but at least acknowledge my existence. No, no, no, that's too much. So I go to the bar, I take a couple shots, and I progressively get more and more, and more, and more, and more, and more, and more intoxicated. And I get this courage about me thinking in my drunken state that if I can get him to have one of our deep, classic, honest, vulnerable conversations we always have in bed, and if I push up the titties enough, he's obviously going to leave that girl, and he's going to end up with me tonight. It's classic. It's one plus one equals two. Done. And that's where the tequila is not our friend's girls.

Because if I were thinking rationally, I would have realized the club is probably not the best place to have a conversation with someone, and it's definitely not the right place to have a conversation with someone who has been avoiding you. Okay? Food for thought, girls. Never chase a man in a club. Talk to him the next morning. A Red Sox man gets up, and I see him start making his way across the club, and I recognize he's making his way to the bathroom. I am a monster at this point. I have been fiending for this moment. It's at this point probably been an hour, just for context. And so I black out and I focus on my mission. I start to lunge my body towards his body. And my friends are pulling me back saying, Alex, no, Alex, no, you're going to regret this in the Just call him in the fucking morning. And I'm like, Absolutely not. We need to talk right now, right here, right now. So I proceed to, please, no judgment when I say this, but here we go. I proceed to follow this man into the public men's bathroom of the motherfucking club.

I just walk directly in. No No shame. I just strut my little fucking ass in there. Literally, why did a bouncer not tackle me to the fucking ground in that moment? I honestly would have paid him the next fucking day. I just walk right in as if I've got to dick myself, and I'm immediately searching for him. I'm like, Where is he? Where is he? And he's in one of the stalls with the door because all the journals are filled with other men with their fucking dicks out peeing. And they all look at me the minute I walk in and I see him go into this stall. And before he has a to lock the little door, I shove the stall door open and I call his name. And I'm like, We need to talk. He whips around with his dick in his hand and he's fully fucking mortified. And he's like, Alex, what the fuck are you doing? He's so shocked. He's like, he knows I'm a crazy bitch, but this clearly, he was like, Oh, this bitch is insane. And in that moment, I'm so hurt. I'm like, Why are you acting like it's weird that I'm here?

Why are you acting like I'm shocked? What are you doing? Babe, we need to have a conversation. Babe, of course I came in here, and I needed a moment alone with you to reconnect. Of course, I'll take those tickets for the next home game. Calm down. We're back. We're fine. We're fine. It's so fucking sick. It's literally sick. What I wasn't thinking about were the optics of this situation. That's when tequila really does you dirty, where you're like, I didn't think young girls shouting at man, dick out other men in the I didn't see it that way. I just thought it was a private moment in a little stall together, okay? So I just start having the conversation as he's yelling at me. And I'm like, I really just don't understand. You're being mean and aggressive. You said you weren't coming out tonight. So obviously, it's a shock that I'm seeing you here. Should we talk about this? I'm like, Wait, what are you doing later tonight? Should we go home? And I'm just like, What the fuck? Why am I acting this way? I'm like, You probably could have texted me. I don't know.

And he's yelling at me. He's like, Alex, get out of the bathroom. My dick is out. All these other... Get out. And then I am persistent and I just keep talking to him. I'm like, How dare you bring another girl here? You're always so sweet to me now that I think about it. And then when another girl is around, I can't stop. I can't be sacked. I'm like, You're being such a dick. All of a sudden, all of the men in the bathroom start to chime in with Red Sucks Man and they're like, Bitch, get the fuck out of here. He doesn't want to talk to you. Why are you in the bathroom? And thank God, here's the thing. I'm impenetrable at this point, though, okay? Nothing could hurt my feelings. Truly nothing. I I have an agenda, okay? All these men, I'm like, Yeah, fuck off. Finally, he zips up his little pants, and he escorts me out of the men's bathroom, and he said, I'll talk to you later, Alex. Go home. And he goes back to his table. Now, as much of a little bitch as I was being, I I also still had that fight in me.

I am a motherfucking cockroach. I will not die tonight, motherfucker. So what did I do? I made the executive decision to not go home after I had completely humiliated myself. I needed a redemption moment. I needed a redemption moment. And so I decided to look around the club. And here's the thing. I always knew that if the Red Sox were playing someone, there was a pretty high chance that the opposing team would also be out that night. Okay? So I turned my demon vision to the right, and across the club, I saw this one very famous athlete, and I decide, he is now my mission. Probably Red Sox Man is like, God bless. Leave me alone. So I grab my friends and I say, Let's go. We're going to a different table. And I see Red Sox Man is watching me as I am beelining it across the club. And I go up to this guy. He Immediately lets me into his table. I'm looking good. I got my extensions. I've got my tiny dress. We're flirting. He starts flirting with me. We're hitting it off. And he's like, this guy actually was such a sweet guy.

We actually ended up having a little on and off relationship, even out of college. He was a lovely guy. He was just a little too fucking boring for me. He was really sweet, though. Probably great marriage material. And I was like, I want the penis and the dickhead. So we are about to start making out in this club, okay? And I say, I say, Hey. I say, feeling all confident, like, Do you want to come back to my dorm? This man makes millions of dollars also. And I'm like, You want to come back to the dorm? And he laughs, and he's like, Do you want to come back to my hotel? We don't need to go to your dorm. And I'm like, Amazing. Let's do it. And so this happens, and everyone is clearing out the club at this time. The lights come on. It's 3:00 AM in Boston. Time to go home. Everyone funnels out of the club. I'm arm and arm with my new boy. And I think it was the Miami Marlins. I'm standing outside of the club, and everyone is getting Ubers. Everyone is getting taxis. Everyone is getting their plans home for the night, okay?

And Red Sox man, I see him standing a few feet away from me with six, seven women around him. And I am standing with this baseball player, and he is trying to hale a cab, like feet away, okay? And I can tell he's eyeing me, and I'm eyeing him, obviously. And all of a sudden, Red Sox man walks directly up to us. And my heart starts fluttering. I'm like, oh, my God. Oh, my God. He's coming up to me. He's so jealous. He's so jealous. He's going to apologize. He's going to ditch the other women. He's going to grab my hand. He's going to put me in the car. He's going to go, Oh, my God, this is literally perfect. I'm going home with him. And so I'm getting ready. I'm fixing myself. Territorially, I was like, oh, this is a big moment. Step on this little fucker on this other team. She's mine. Fuck you, little bitch. But as you can imagine, that's not how it went. Instead, he wasn't coming over to talk to me. He pulls the baseball player's arm that I am standing with, and he pulls him away from me, and he whispers something in his ear.

And I'm in shock. I can't move. I remember my body was feeling so numb. I'm like, Wait, what is happening? What is happening? It all was happening so fast. I remember people were all staring at this interaction, and I'm unclear of what's happening. The taxi pulls up that he had just hailed. Baseball boy that I was about to go home with looks at me, and he goes, Sorry, Alex. And he gets in the cab, and he leaves and drives away. So now, I am standing by myself in the middle of the road, and I turn to Red Sox Man, trying to fight back tears in my eyes. So dramatic. And I am like, You're the devil. What did you say to him? And I start freaking out. And he literally looks at me, deadpan, and goes, You're mine. And he walks away, and he gets in his car and leaves with the seven women. And I stand in front of this nightclub for what felt like an hour by myself. My friends had all gone home because I was like, I'm going home with this one. You guys can take off. And finally, the bouncer gets me a cab, and I somehow make my way back to my dorm room empty-handed.

I walk into my common area. All of my friends are shocked to see me without baseball boy. They're like, Alex, what happened? Why aren't you with the guy? They start making me a grilled cheese. They can tell. I think every girl in college can relate to this when you have a big friend group. It's going to be one of us crying one night, the night before. My other friend was crying. So they knew it was my night. They're like, Here she fucking goes. We knew it. They start making me a grilled cheese. I'm so dramatic. I get into the bathtub with no water. I take off all of my clothes. I just get naked in front of everyone. I get into the tub. I curl up like, I don't even deserve to sleep in a bed tonight. I deserve to feel the pain. I deserve to feel miserable. I am miserable. He's ruining my life. I honestly, probably at that time, was just probably trying to channel Marissa Cooper. This is something she would do. She's so fucked up and dramatic. My friend Bridget is I think we need to remove the lasers from the bath of the night.

My friends were so dramatic. We were being so dramatic. Alex, you lost your mind. I'm like, Guys, I'm not going to fucking kill myself. Please, I'm just depressed, and I want to pretend to be depressed for the rest of the night so I can be sad. Let me be sad. Turning on Death Cap by Cutie being like, na, na, na, and just bad, just bad. You know how it goes, okay? And this is where, this is where back in the day, I would always preach Men love the crazy. And this is about to be your proof pudding sauce, people, okay? Because I wake up in the tub with a text from him the next morning saying, Come over. And obviously, I do. I'm like, whoa, Bridget put the Razors back in the shower. We're back, baby. I'm getting dressed and putting extra blush on, looking cute. I'm going over. And all my friends are like, no. But honestly, I was like, do you want tickets to the game night, they're like, yes. It was always just a stupid fucking game we had to play, and it was fine. And to give context, these are just the little things that I was thinking, it's just a little push and pull of us.

This is so classic us, push and pull. Sleep in the tub, go to the penthouse in the morning. And in the morning, I was like, so fun, so dramatic. I didn't let it get to me. Well, I did let it get to me. But in the morning, I was like, fresh new day. Let's see if he'll text me. But little did I know this man was probably fully getting his fucking cake and eating it, too. He didn't want to go home with me. He wanted to go home, maybe with another girl or go home with no one. That's the way I tell myself. And then when the other girl left in the morning, I was his comfort. I was his go-to. And he wanted me to come over and fucking give me pancakes and cuddle me and watch movies with me. And I went over and I yelled at him, and he apologized. And Then we went on with our day. And this cycle happened over and over and over for a couple months, okay? Until I started to get stronger. Until I started to recognize that I could make some decisions that could get underneath his skin, that could make him really have to face his emotions because, as crazy as it sounds, and I know it sounds insane.

I'm telling you guys, you guys, he did like me. He did like me. I will never forget. I am sitting in the dining hall, and he calls me after a game, and he's like, Where Where are you? We're having a sleepover. And I'm like, Oh, my God. Let me get my fucking bag. I'm so excited. And he's like, No, no, no, no, no. I want to have a sleepover at your dorm. So picture me prepping all of my suite mates. There's six girls that I live with at this time. I'm like, Hey, Red Sox Man is coming over for a sleepover. And they're like, To the dorm? To 1019? And we're all starting to freak out. I'm like, Yeah, we're cleaning. We're fucking getting the place ready. And most of my friends at the time were Boston native. So they're his biggest fans. They're literally at this point calling their dads, being like, Dad, guess who I'm having a sleepover with tonight? And their dads are like, This is fucking cool. And then their moms are like, Isn't that guy in his 30s? This is concerning. And they're like, We're ready, we're ready, we're ready.

Word spreads that he is coming to the dorms tonight, and all of the boys on our floor are just casually hanging out in the hallway, just hanging out, having a couple beers, hoping that they will see him and hoping to get a little autograph. He pulls up to my dorm room, in my sophomore dorm room in his Aston Martin. He just parks it illegally in front. He's like, Does that place have a ballet? I'm like, I think the ballet guy is not here right now. Literally, what the fuck? I'm trying to pretend. He's blaring music. Everyone outside the dorm is staring at him like, What is this man doing here? He walks in, I will never forget. And the front desk security guard isn't really paying attention. The night time security guard is literally like, Go ahead. He's like, Give me your ID. If you're not a member here, just give me your ID. And Red The ex guy is like, Oh, shit. I don't have my ID. I forgot it. He's like, Could I give you my players card? And all of a sudden, the security guard looks up and his jaw drops because the security guard at the time is wearing a Boston Red Sox hat.

So you can only imagine this guy's like, Fuck my life. Fuck my life. My job is a bunch of annoying fucking college kids that just get drunk and fucking... What the fuck is happening? He's like, Oh, my God, sir. Yeah, no need for an ID. Yeah, go ahead. Hey, can I get a selfie So I'm feeling like I have the biggest dick on campus. I'm like, redemption, redemption. All the hurt, all the hurt. It never happened. He comes up and he proceeds to sleep with me in my twin bed and my roommate who was across from us that night. It wasn't a roommate like, oh, we live in a sweet-suit. There's two twin beds in this room. I'm in one with Red Sox player, big old man. And then my roommate is three feet away in her other twin bed. My roommate did not sleep with her pimple cream and retainers in that night, nor did I. She slept with a full beat, as did I. And that day, that was the day where I was like, Oh, my God, he's in love with me. He's in love with me. Honestly, I could have made all of this up, but the time, it felt real.

And here's the thing, Daddy Gang, I know I always yell at you guys where I'm like, he doesn't like you. Yeah, well, I could have used a podcast like that back in the day, okay? But I didn't have one. So I get a free pass. You don't anymore, though. If he treats you like this, he doesn't fucking like you. But hold on, he actually probably does. Okay, so I feel like there's something to be said for... This is how I felt about it. This was my first real adult relationship. My high school relationships had nothing on this. And I had dated a guy in college that I loved so much. But this was my first adult relationship. I was experiencing a lot of firsts with this man. And most importantly, he gave me my first orgasm. So was I clouded by a great O? Maybe. But it was a big deal for me. I had never had an orgasm in my life until I met Red Sox Man. So yeah, there was obviously an extreme level of attachment, you could say, on my end, though, on my end. But here's where it started to change.

Once the year mark of going through the cycle of inconsistency I knew it was time to turn the tables and finally add some other people to my roster. I was too attached, and I was just getting let down too often. And while it was great when I was with him, it just wasn't enough. So fast forward. It's summer. I'm living in Boston, about to go into my junior year, and it's the fourth of July weekend. And one of my soccer friends who went to Vanderbilt University was flying in for the weekend, and I wanted to show her the best time. You guys know how that is. If you went to college, it's like when you go visit a friend at college, it's like you pull out everything. You pull out all the stops, you pull out all the fun We're going to the best parties. We're going to eat the best food. You're going to meet all the hot guys, blah, blah, blah. And so I, at this point, have the Red Sox calendar memorized. And lucky for me, there was a game on the fourth of July, and it was a day game. Let Let's fucking go.

So I created a plan. We're going to go to the Red Sox game. We're going to sit front row in his seats. We're going to drink. We're going to look cute. And then we are going to get in his Aston Martin, and he is going to take us to the club. That was the goal. That was the vision. That was the plan. And that's what I sold my friend. The problem is Red Sox man had different plans that didn't involve me that weekend. But I wasn't aware of that just yet, okay? So I was deep in the waiting game, every girl knows how this goes, when you are... Oh, it's so fucking awful. When you are so dependent on the guy for plans, like this motherfucker, I would wait for the text. I would wait for the text. I would wait for the text. And I wouldn't make plans with any other people just yet because I was holding out for this man. And it was all in his hands, okay? So finally, I remember I decide on July third to text him, being like, Hey, what's your plan for the game tomorrow? Do you have family in town?

Or can I come to the game? And he's like, Hey, sorry. The tickets are taken. And immediately I'm like, Okay, yeah, totally. I understand. But there's the players section. So the players section is where all the wives and the girlfriends and the family can sit. It's like their general admin tickets in a designated area. And without a doubt, there's always fucking extra tickets available in the family and friends And in my mind, I'm rationalizing. I'm like, All right, okay. We can't get the front row. Maybe the family is in town. That's totally fine. Family section is fine. Let's fucking go. And he was like, My whole family is actually coming and stuff. I just don't think it's a good game to come to. My stomach is now in my asshole. And meanwhile, I have my friend sitting on my bed twiddling her fingers, being like, so what's the plan for the weekend? And I'm just like, shut the fuck up. I'm mortified. I'm literally mortified. I'm like, the plan, the plan, the plan. But this was so typical, the inconsistency. And it was annoying because I will say, because my friends from different schools would visit me often, some friends would be lucky enough to get the royal treatment from the Red Sox man.

We would be out till 5:00 AM with the limos and the champagne and the booze. And then other times I would be like, I have nothing. I have no one. I am worthless. I have nothing. I can't provide shit. And obviously, Yes, we could go to a frat party, but that's not the life I was selling them. Fly into Boston. I'll take you to the game. We'll do the thing. We'll shoot the shooters. And this was looking like it was going to be one of those goddamn weekends. And also this was one of my most fun party friends. So I was like, I've got to show her a good time. So I immediately, I went into spiral mode because I've now had it up to here with the games. I'm like, I refuse to keep waiting for this man for my schedule to pan out all on his terms. So I start strategizing what can plan B be? Now, remember, at this point, I'm not as dumb as I started. I had learned the importance of a roster, so I immediately tapped into the database. I recognized that the Red Sox would be playing the Astros on fourth of July.

And lucky for me, I had infiltrated one of the players, who's so fucking hot, by the way. Long, beautiful hair, young, more my age, super cute, had always been asking, When we play the Red Sox, let me take you out. Let's meet up. Let me take you on a date. And I had constantly denied him, unfortunately, Because every time that he was in town, it just so happened that Red Sox man was treating me right. But this time, not so much. So I start texting him and I'm like, Oh, my gosh, I saw you're going to be in town. Let's go out later. And also, do you think you Can you get me some tickets to the game? And he's like, oh, my gosh, I'm so excited to see you, Alex. I'm so sorry. Actually, we were just told for the opposing team, everything sold out. But yes, let's definitely meet up after the game and I want to take you out. And I'm like, yeah, no, For sure. For sure. For sure. For sure. For sure. For sure. Let's do it. Let me meet up with you after. Text me after the game. But I wasn't done.

I still wanted to go to that motherfucking game. I had just become obsessed with knowing who was sitting in the Red Sox man's seats, okay? Now I I needed to know who's in the seats. Who's in the seats, big boy, on gold old fourth of July? Who'd you pick? Who'd you pick? And I also just wanted to show him that I didn't need him, okay? I could get myself to the game, but obviously buying a ticket myself was not an option, okay? So I tapped back into the roster. This is sad. I had this rookie pitcher on the Red Sox, lingering in the DMs. He was a loser. No, You know what? I don't know that for sure. I had never met him, okay? He never really played, and he was just like... You could tell he was just a little dorky. He honestly, probably, now that I think about it, was marriage material for a lovely woman, but I had no interest, okay? If he wasn't having a party after the games, and he wasn't treating me a little inconsistent and like, Shit, what am I living for? I don't need a husband when I'm a sophomore in college.

I need the thrill. I need the toxic. I need the emotion. I need the love. But in this moment, He became my Night in Shining armor. And I finally responded to his 15th DM. And I'm like, Hey, happy almost fourth. And he's like, Whoa, Alex, so happy you saw my messages. And I'm like, oh, my gosh, what are you doing tomorrow for the fourth? And he's like, oh, I got a game. And I'm like, no way. Really? Oh, my gosh. I have a friend in town who is obsessed with baseball. Do you think there's any way that you can get us any tickets? And he's like, oh, yeah, I have two allocated to me for family and friends section as a player, and I don't have any friends or family coming to the game. I can totally give you those two tickets. And I am like, Let's motherfucking go. We love... Wait, what's the thing? We did it, Joe. Joe, we did it, Joe. We got the motherfucking tickets. And I looked to my friend and I'm like, We're fucking in. We're going to the Red Sox game, and we have fucking plans with player afterwards.

Let's motherfucking go. We start taking shots. We start getting ready. We're looking fucking good. And now I have the tickets to the Red Sox game from the rookie, and then I have plans with the Astros player after the game, and I'll be in my prime location to stake out Red Sox in seats, and I can zoom in on my iPhone and see who's sitting in the front row. It's about to be a hell of a night. So we get to the stadium, and I go to sit down in my seats, which is in the friends and family section of the Red Sox. And I'm looking around, and I see a couple people that I recognize, but I wasn't too intertwined with the friends and family and the girlfriends, and the whys, because I was always in his other seats. I also wasn't his fucking girlfriend. Okay, let's be real. But I wasn't too familiar with these people. So I'm sitting there, I am drinking a crisp bud light. I am taking a bite of my hot dog. I'm talking to my friend. We're zooming in on Red Sox man. We're checking him out. And all of a sudden, as I'm zooming in on this man, I hear someone say, Alex?

And I turned to my right, and someone had just sat down in the seat directly next to me. And lo and behold, it was Red Sox man's sister and mother. Now, like I mentioned earlier, I had met these amazing folk, okay? They knew me. But I could tell from their facial expressions that they knew I wasn't invited. They knew I wasn't supposed to be there, and they knew that I must have gotten the tickets from someone else. Now, when I look back, It's even worse because I'm like, why did they know that? Did Red Sox Man, literally that morning, was he talking to his family that morning and being like, tell them how I was trying to get tickets? Did they know something about me and the status of our relationship that I didn't know? And I'm not going to lie, I was going to shit my pants right there in that seat. My entire body, I just will never forget, I felt so awkward. I felt like an outsider, honestly, and I felt like a fucking fraud because they had It's been lovely to me in every situation. But this was literally the sister was like, Alex?

And I'm literally like, Yeah? What the fuck do you want? But then I'm like, Obviously, I need her to love me because this is the man of my dream. So I'm trying to play it cool. And my friend on my left feels my energy and has no idea what's going on, but she can tell there's an energy shift. And she's like, What just happened? Oh, literally, what just happened? What's going on? And I whisper to my friend and I'm like, We need to go. And I'm like, Oh, Oh, my God, you guys. It was so good to see you. Oh, my God. I'm so happy I saw you. It's literally the second ending. Like, literally, why am I leaving? And I'm like, It was so good to see you. Happy part. I get up and I leave because I'm a little bitch, because I'm a fucking loser. And I couldn't honestly take the awkwardness and the uncomfortable for the entirety of the game. And honestly, me and my friend were already drunk. We're like, Oh, let's go pregame and get ready for the night out. You know when you do that, where I hated going to sports games as much as I loved them.

I wanted to quickly run home and do a full new beat because I'm sitting there for almost four hours, and I needed to go get ready. So we convinced ourselves it was good, we had to leave. But I'm shivering to the core. I'm like, They really were a little rude. So I'm walking out of Fenway Park, and you Will not believe the text that I get. It is the third inning of the Red Sox game on the fourth of July. And I get a text, and I look at my phone, and it's from Red Sox Man, in the middle of the game. In the middle of the game, this man goes into the dugout, goes into the locker room, gets his phone, and texts me. And he writes, Alex, who gave you the tickets? Alex, who gave you the tickets? And I immediately feel so scared. I'm like, oh, my God. Oh, my God. What do I say? I'm also like, poor rookie friend. Oh, my God. He's a full rookie, the kid that I'm texting. I'm like, oh, my God. This is literally his first year on the team. And Red Sox man is the older his veteran.

This poor guy. I'm just thinking about this poor rookie is literally about to get the shit beaten out of him. And so I'm like, I can't say anything. I can't give up this poor guy's identity. I got to lie. I got to think of something. But so just I respond naturally and I say, What are you talking about? Just gaslight him. I was never at that game. Who? What? Who is that? Who's there? I wasn't there. You're there? Are you saying you want me to... You You have tickets for me? What? And he's like, Stop it right now. My sister sat down next to you, and she knows you weren't supposed to be there. So who did you get the tickets And I'm like, Well, it's more concerning that I saw a couple of young girls in the front row in your seat. Huh? So much for family time. Your family really needed those tickets? Or was it a couple of blondies from Boston? Just always put it back on them. Never answer the question. And he's like, answer the fucking question, Alex, who gave you the goddamn tickets? And we start going back and forth.

And I'm recognizing. Well, first of all, I'm recognizing he's just texting me, which is amazing. I'm like, we're back, baby. My friend's looking over my shoulder like, he's mad. And I'm like, no, he's not mad. And we're texting. The fact that we're texting, I'm like, gold, mine, gold, mine. Plants for tonight, plans for tonight. I'm going to see him. Things are already good that he's texting. Also, when I had... Oh, my God, you guys, this is so pathetic. But I had, at that point, designated his own little ringtone for his text. So I would get the normal text. I know it's my mom or my friend, but then it was like the... I had done that one. And every time he would text me, I'd freeze. And so whenever I was looking for a text from him, I'd turn my volume up and then it would be like, 'bring, bring, bring, bring, ' and I'd be like, 'huh, huh? ' So I really got excited when I got text from him. So anyways, started getting rise, started getting rise at him. And he's texting me in the middle of the goddamn baseball game. So I'm realizing now I'm in a position where he's literally chasing me down.

He's literally obsessed with me. He's so annoyed that I went to the game, and he's so annoyed that I'm clearly talking to someone else. This is amazing. This man, while he may be very infuriated, he's officially jealous. Checkmate. You care. Let's fucking go. I'm ready to fucking party. You got to have these check-in moments, ladies. It is so important to check the waters, okay? I knew he was mad, but he kept going. He's like, Who are you talking to? Tell me who gave you the tickets. I'm going to figure this out. And now I'm really like, Okay, I'm under his skin. So I respond and I say, Don't worry about it. I didn't need those tickets anyways. I also had some seats in the away section as well. Motherfucker, I will ruin your life. And I'm picturing this man and they're like, Bro, you're up to bat. And he's like, Hold on this mother-little fucking shift, fucking shit. And I'm like, Let's go. Let's go. It's butter time. It's butter time. And now he's like, Oh, so you're talking to someone on the Astros? Who are you talking to on the Astros? And he starts spiraling.

And I do the one thing that needed to be done. I ghosted him. Did it take every bone in my body to ghost him and to not answer that fucking text? Yes. Also, did I ghost him Or did my friend take my phone, physically, rip it out of my hand, put it in her purse, and say, You can't talk to him for 15 minutes. Let him sweat it out, okay? That is all so true, okay? She's a good friend. Whatever, okay? Her taking it or me not answering. The point is, same thing, same result. The motherfucker was ghosted, okay? And the outcome for the first time ever is like, I'm ghosting him, and he's blowing me up. It's an absolute victory. So later that night, I responded, obviously. I literally was like, Has it been 15 minutes yet? Has it been 15 minutes yet? I ended up going longer than 15 minutes. I actually had some self-restrain, and it was like, you know? A couple hours because at that point, I'm like, Let him finish the game. Let him marinate on it. This is what I realized. He's going to sit at that game and just over and over and over, and he's going to look down that little fucking roster as every Astro's guy has come to bed.

He's like, Is that the one? Is that the one? Is that the one? And then he's also going to have to look in his camp and think, Who the fuck is it? So let him spiral. That's how you'll get ready for the fucking night out. Okay. So then I text him hours later, and I asked him if he was going out. I'm like, We're friends And he said he wasn't. So what do I do? I went and I met up with the Astros player, and my friend and I spent the night hanging out with these two gorgeous guys. They took us to a steak dinner. We went to see these fireworks, and it was a pretty lovely night. We end up going back to the Astros players hotel room for an after-party. And I'm with my friend. She's sitting on the bed in the hotel room with this guy. And I go into the bathroom bathroom with Astro's man, and we start hooking up. I start giving this man a blowjob. And mid said blowjob, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, okay? And it is the hour of the night where either my friend is in the other room being like, Let's fucking go.

I hate this guy. Let's leave. Or Or in my wildest dreams, it is Red Sox, man. Either one is quite important. I want to be a good friend, but I also am hoping for the latter. So mid Sucky Suck, penis fully in mouth, I say, One minute. And I pull up my fucking phone mid-blow job, penis still in mouth. And there it is. At this point, the fucking dick falls out of my mouth because I open too wide, and I'm like, It's Red Sox Man. I have a text from Red Sox Man on my phone that says, I want you, come here. Immediately, I tap, tap the penis and I say, no more. I stand up, I levitate out the room, I grab my friend. I'm like, I'm so sorry. Something just came over me. I feel so sick all of a sudden. They're all like, What's going on? Alex, are you okay? He's zipping up his pants. And I swing the door open and I'm yelling at my friend. I'm like, Let's go. My friend runs. She grabs all of her shit. And I'm like, It's an emergency. We must leave. I call an Uber.

I go downstairs. And as we're in the Uber, I realized I had been sucking dick for 15 fucking minutes. And all of makeup around my mouth is gone. So I'm orange from the cheek up and just pale ghost white from the fucking nose down. And I'm also in that era of my life where I wasn't having the best skin and I had a couple of breakouts. So my friend has this powder, this like, translucent powder that's like loose powder. And we start dousing the powder onto my face. It's all over my face. The entire thing explodes all over the Uber. I have a black dress on. It looks like I have been railing cocaine all fucking night long. So fucking classy. We arrive at his penthouse. I'm knocking on the door. I honestly probably look so fucking sick. I'm literally transluce and powder all over my face. I'm so drunk at this point. I have shit all over my dress. And he opens the door and he's like, What the fuck? Have you been doing drugs? What is going on? Little does he know. I've literally just been powdering up for my man. And I'm like, I'm so fucking pathetic.

I'm so fucking pathetic. My friend hugs him. She's like, Good night to you both. And she goes off and she sleeps on the fucking And I get into bed with him, and we cuddle until the sunrise. And that was my first taste of recognizing that I could have some power in this relationship. Yes, that is so sad. I get it's sad. But here's the thing. Knowing that Red Sox man was laying up, stressing about me that night, and he actually didn't go out, I would say I won the battle. Now, Should I have gone over? Probably not. But I got what I wanted, right? And I knew he cared. So here's the thing. Our relationship, I would say, definitely changed after that night, for sure, he was more communicative, more invested. I didn't feel completely powerless, and I ended up pulling back, believe it or not, for my crazy obsessive ways and getting to a more healthy place with the relationship. After that night, I really started to invest more time in the rest of my roster. And as much as I was having fun with all of these other guys, I will say he always had this special place in my heart because he taught me everything I knew, honestly.

I remember I would then interact with fuck Boys, Slim Shady, and all these other people And I remember just being like, this is child's play. And I had such an understanding of the game and the way it worked and all the things. But I will never forget the day our relationship officially came to an end. I was in preseason for soccer. It was August, and I was on Nickerson Field, which is the soccer field at my school, and everyone was leaving for practice. I was sweating. I'm walking back to the dorms with all of my teammates, and we're walking down Babcock Street, which is the street at BU that all the athlete houses are on. And suddenly, I get a text from my mom that said, did you see the news? And she then followed up and sent me an article with the headline that Red Sox Man had officially been traded to a team across the country. And I remember tears just filled in my eyes, and I sent him a text in immediately, and I just said his name. And he called me immediately. I remember I sat down on a bench, and all my friends were confused.

They see me crying. They're like, Cooper, why are you crying? Are you okay? And they eventually just went into the dorms and gave me space and left me there to sit outside and talk to him. And we ended up talking for 30 minutes. And it was weird because by the end of our relationship, it was one of those things where I think through the push and pull of everything, he ended up liking me way more than he ever thought he would have. And he was quite emotional on the phone, and I was quite emotional on the phone. And he was like, I want you to come visit me. This isn't the end. I want you to come visit me. And in my brain, I knew it was the end. I knew that the proximity and my life in college and his lifestyle and the parties and the clubs, that was influencing a part of my love and infatuation for him. Because again, I was in college. I just wanted to have fun. And this guy had just taken me on this whirlwind of a romance, and it was fun, and it was exhausting, and it was sad.

But it consumed me, and it was amazing, and it took over my life, and it took over my friend's lives, and it was so fun. And if he's going to be across the country, I'm not doing long distance relationship. Also, because the The reality is there's other athletes in the state that I hadn't really tapped into yet. You know what I mean? So it was really sad, jokes aside. And I could tell we both knew it was over. And I could tell we both knew we may lightly stay in touch and wean off, but we had done it. You know what I mean? The relationship was at that crossroads where it's like, we're not getting fucking married. I'm a fucking junior now in We're done. And so I will never forget one of the last things he said to me on the phone before he said goodbye. I will never forget. He said, Alex, you listen to me. Boston is yours. And it, broadly, was such a perfect ending because he was Boston. I was living in his world, and this man was just basically saying, Here are the fucking keys to the city. I trained you.

I taught you all I fucking know. Now go fucking take it. And I know it sounds weird, but it was broadly the most perfect ending. And what I will say is I am pretty sure a couple of other Boston Red Sox athletes ended up messaging me in my career at Boston University, and I never ended up going back to to another Red Sox player because I just wanted to leave it untouched. In memory of him and us and what we did, we did enough damage there. I didn't want to go back, and I didn't want to relive that organization. So that was the end of my Red Sox era for the rest of my time in college. And I never really went to... Actually, wait, that's a lie. No, that's actually a complete lie. I did go to Red Sox games, but it was for the away team. So I did hold my promise to myself, okay? I never sat in the friends and family section again of the home team. But you bet your fucking ass I was in those motherfucking away seats. Shout out to the New York Mets. Shout out to the Detroit Tigres.

Shout out to the Atlanta Braves, the New York Yankees, the Miami Marlins. You know who you are. But yeah, oh my God, everyone's like, Sure. Okay, relax. It was fun. But you guys get it, okay? I fucking had a nice time, but I never went back to the Red Sox. And what I will say for all the naysayers, okay? And all the people that may have listened to this episode judging me, thinking I'm a big loser, desperate for a guy who didn't even like me. I am here to say I know I'm in my health and wellness era. I know that, okay? But there was one time that my era that I lived and breathed was toxic. And I'm here to say that the Call Her Daddy Ogie playbook worked for a reason. It was surefire and ironclad. And like I used to say, if you play the game, and not everyone can play the game, and not everyone wants to play the game, but if you play the game and you play it right, they will always come back. It was 2019. It was about three to four years later. I'm sitting in the Lower East Side Call Her Daddy Exists, and I get a call from Red Sox Man.

And let's just say I was not delusional. After catching up, he ended the call by letting me know that he always loved me, and he wish he could have said it back then. So he wanted to say it now. Bye, bitches. Okay, I fucking told you. I fucking told you. But no, I will remember, it was pretty full circle, and it felt pretty nice to be like, oh, my God. I fucking knew it. I'm delusional But I'm not that fucking delusional, you guys. I fucking knew. But I will always say, I will always have love for that time of my life and for him in my heart somewhere. I think he is such a nice guy, and we met each other at a very odd time in both of our lives, and I wouldn't take any of it back. It was fucking epic, and it was one of the best experiences I had in college. So coming full circle, the fact that I'm about to be back at Fenway Park, the Red Sox home, it feels right. This whole story time just has me thinking about young Alex, who was so impressionable and had no idea what her life was going to be, and was just so enamored by, honestly, anyone who treated her well or treated her like shit, but gave her nice things.

Shout out Michael Kors, because she was broke and lost. And I feel, I will say, I just feel really excited to go into that stadium now as a complete individual who wouldn't put up with the stuff that I used to put up with, who now has this show and the Daddy Gang, and who is fucking married and in a nice, healthy relationship. Like, what a fucking concept. Yeah, I wish I could have told my fucking sophomore yourself, college self, like, Bitch, you are going to be on that motherfucking mound one day when he's retired, and you're going to be throwing the first pitch at a Boston Red Sox game. So cheers to that. You don't have to fuck a player to get tickets this time, Alex. God, motherfuck, I'm really, really blessed and good night. This is a testament to anyone. If you're so down right now, it always gets better. It always gets fucking better, because when you're super low, you literally can't go fucking lower, okay? So I am really excited. And all I truly now, all I hope, and let me just say this out loud so I can manifest this. All I fucking hope to God is that I make contact with that catcher, okay?

I swear to God, if I fuck this shit up, I am going to have trauma. I'm going to have a conversation with my therapist about how I ruined the one opportunity for full closure. So Daddy Gang, pray for me. Come party with me. I will see you next week. God bless. Love Boston so much. It really feels right. Big Al is coming home, Boston.