Hotdogs Twice in One Day....

And why being a Red's fan for us isn't just a hobby; it's a lifestyle.

I am a fan of the Cincinnati Red's. Ian is a worshipper of the Cincinnati Red's. I will be completely honest right now and let you know that before dating Ian, I was what Ian would refer to as a "cheerleader" when it came to sports. (According to Ian, being a "cheerleader" refers to the so-called sports fans that only show an interest in a team is when that team is doing well, or because your father-brother-uncle-grandfather-whathaveyou was a fan so you feel that you must be a fan as well. A cheerleader says they're a fan but when asked why, they have no real answer of substance. Nothing bothers Ian more than trying to have a discussion about sports with a "cheerleader".) Before we even started dating, I attended a Red's game with him and quickly saw his level of passion for the game; it's intense. Almost as intense as his disdain for the Chicago Cubs. See, along with this fiery love for the Red's comes a hatred and disgust for all things Cubs. This includes the Cubs as a franchise, Cubs players, Cubs fans, most of the citizens of Chicago, and I'm willing to bet the newborns to the Black Bears at the zoo are on that list too. His fervor for the Red's was born from spending evenings on the farm that he grew up on (Yes, he grew up on a real live farm- like the kind with animals and chores.) listening to the Red's play on the radio with his grandfather. Not only does he carry the history of the team in his memory, but he also carries the sentimental value of the sport and the team that he shared with his grandfather in his heart. (Those of you that know Ian, know that this is about as mushy as this man gets. Ever. Unless it involves vodka because for some reason, this man that can drink an entire body of whiskey solo, cries like an abandoned infant when he gets a couple drinks of vodka in him.) That being said, he has a ton of sports memorabilia and it's not the kind that holds value to anyone but him. You would never catch Ian waiting in line to get an autograph from a Red's player, just because they are newest and hottest player of the season. Half of his autographed balls are signed by players that I've never heard of, but they mean something to him. I even allowed him to have a section in the living room to neatly display some of his collection:

(Notice the shelves to the right with bobble heads and other Red's knick-knacks. Ian will be really excited about my use of the word "knick-knacks" to describe his treasures.)

So you get it- we're fans of the Red's. We even live so close to Great American Ball Park, that we can walk there in about twenty minutes from our front door. We go to every game that our schedules and our pocket books will allow. Last night was one of those nights. Ian decided to cook out before we went; hamburgers, hot dogs and french fries- a ball park menu if you will. He was really excited :

In case I've haven't mentioned it, Ian is old. He talks on his phone via a mic and headphones.

We met up with Ian's bother and some friends and watched a great game. Mike Leake hit a home run which was followed by two more home runs and we won the game and everyone left happy.

Ian's forced smile is NOT a visual indicator of our evening.

So I named this post "Hot Dogs Twice in One Day" so I should probably talk about why. See, after the game, Ian and I went out for drinks. We went to one of our regular spots, visited with friends, had several drinks and a wonderful time, and headed home around 2am. Our cab driver was a small, kind, old man from New York that was a REAL baseball fan. Ian and I had a great conversation with him on the way home (If you frequent cabs, this is a rarity, I don't care which city you live in) and Ian gave him $20 on a $8 cab ride. It was just one of those nights where you feel like you're in a movie or one of those made up shows on the CW because everything felt good and right in the world. When we walked in the house, I did my usual late night "I'm hungry" whine and sad face. "I'll cook. What would you like?" he asks. I didn't care what he cooked because anything that I didn't have to cook sounded absolutely delicious to me. So he cooked while I did my evening skincare routine, which takes about 20 minutes because I am determined to stay looking like I'm in my twenties forever. I put on my jammies, climb into bed (As a general rule, we don't eat in bed. I'm a neat freak- like I make the bed every single day- and food in bed is just gross and weird. But, we had been drinking which leads to rule bending.) and wait for my meal that is being lovingly prepared for me by Jameson filled boyfriend. Now here's the part that makes up for all of the nights where I went to bed feeling unsure about Ian's feelings towards me. It makes up for all of the times when in anger, he's said something hurtful to me that has made a permanent home in the back of my mind. And it makes up for all of the times that after slaving over cleaning the bathroom (I loathe cleaning the bathroom), I walk into teeny tiny beard hairs left all over the sink. What amazing thing had he done to make me want to want to permanently forget all of these indescrestions?

 Ian made corn dogs and I HATE corn dogs.

 Reason being, eating meat off of a stick grosses me out. What I do love is mini corn dogs. Those are stick free and bite sized and I can eat them with a fork if I choose to which minimizes grease and crumbs on the hands which makes me really, really happy. So instead of making corn dogs to eat because that's what he wanted, and telling me to just eat around the stick, he removed the corn dog from the stick and cut it into little bite sized pieces. A small gesture to many, but to me, it's a huge display of who the man that I am building a life with really is and what I mean to him. See, if you aren't with someone that listens and knows all of your little quirks, then there is still lots of work to do. And if your partner doesn't do "the little things" than what good are all of "the big things"? I love that even though Ian was kind of drunk and pretty tired, he took the time to not only cook, but prepare food in a way to make me happy. Pulling that corn dog off of the stick and cutting it up into bite sized pieces is something that most people would do for their three year old and that's only because you have to. Ian did it for me without me asking because he knew it would make me happy. If there's one thing I'm learning about men and relationships is that when a man is in a relationship with a woman that he really loves and cares about, then HE is happy when SHE is happy. Sometimes the problem lies in the fact that as girls, we've been conditioned to always seek out things to "fix" and "nurture" instead of just accepting and receiving love and just being happy for a moment. Happiness is a choice and when us as women are constantly seeking happiness instead of choosing happiness, it can sometimes make the man in our life feel like he's doing something wrong. Like he's not good enough. And men, contrary to popular belief, are very sensitive.

I know, all of this from just a converted corn dog?

To me, it just says that he listens. And he cares. And he's never going to be too drunk or too tired to do the little things to make me happy. And who doesn't want that? 


I'm not saying that we are perfectly happy, or perfect, or happy, or any of those other words that people like to describe their ideal relationship as. And we still have tons to work on. I am saying that I am at a point where I recognize and appreciate these small offerings of how he feels about me that he shows me in our everyday lives. Small offerings that may get overlooked had I not taken the time to choose to be happy and recognize all of the good and happy in my life.

I hope someone converts a corn dog for all of you one day...

Bree