A very long time ago when I was in graduate school, a friend of mine named Deb was trying to fix me up with a friend of her husband's, a fellow named Mike. This was back in the days when I didn't know then what I know now, so I didn't discourage her, but when there never seemed to be an opportunity for us to meet, I didn't regret it either.
Nevertheless, once Mike moved into the apartment next to mine, it seemed inevitable, and Deb hounded him about coming over to meet me. Finally, he did. He stopped by one afternoon and found me watching a Cubs game on television. I invited him in, and we sat there and chatted while we watched the game, which provided good conversational fodder -- he said something about how amazing it was that the Cubs had acquired Bill Buckner, and I said that if his knees weren't so bad, the Dodgers would have kept him -- that sort of thing. It was very pleasant and innocuous.
A few days later Deb told me Mike had mentioned his visit with me. She said to him, "So, what do you think?" to which he replied, "She sure knows her baseball!"
So much for feminine allure.
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