Mrs. Met, I Need You Biblically
Hello, Mrs. Met. You may remember me from that time when I commented on your Instagram post with, “Damn she can crochet AND she’s caked up???” You probably don’t remember, though. I can imagine that my comment got shoved away under the dozens—if not hundreds—of horny comments you get on the daily, the icon you are.
I’ve been thinking about you a lot now that baseball season is back up again. I admired you from afar all throughout spring training—those tight pants you were wearing sure had me sprung this spring!! You’re looking better than ever, and I’m glad to see that you are always smiling and excited to share the joy that is major league baseball. I hope the Mets do at least marginally well this year. You are so strong and beautiful for being so loyal to the team. I, too, know what it’s like to love a team that isn’t so good all the time. It’s hard work, but it’s honest. Just like you.
With the season just starting I know you’re busy and don’t want to hear from me, but there’s something I need to get off my chest with great urgency. If I hold it in any longer I feel like I will die. I understand as well that you are a married woman to that baseball head man and the two of you have little baseball head kids. A beautiful, dare I say perfect family. You are clearly an upstanding woman of high moral values, and anyone would think that there is no good reason to do anything to ruin the amazing life you already have, but I beg of you to consider another option…me.
I may not look impressive at first, but think about it: I was the lowest chair flute in the highest band all throughout college (that’s called talent, baby!) and I know how to make a really good soup. I am also an avid crocheter, like yourself, and have an absurd amount of yarn in every color you could imagine just sitting there in my house, waiting for a beautiful woman like yourself to make a scarf or a hat or something else entirely. We could open the relationship to even more types of crafts! There’s embroidery, weaving, punch needle—I have them all! I bet Mr. Met has never ONCE done a fiber craft, even though you love the hobby so openly! I would support you, nay, I would be there crafting with you, by a cozy fireplace somewhere out in northern Wisconsin on a romantic getaway.
Here’s the deal: the first time I saw you in a promotional photo for the New York Mets wearing those baseball pants showing off that amazing figure of yours, I have been able to think of little else. My work has suffered and I’m actually on a performance improvement plan and my boss is waiting to fire me any day now. While objectively bad, this does not bother me when I imagine the life we could have together. This may be an impossible romance, a forbidden love. I’m typically not a homewrecker and I don’t even like the Mets (the White Sox are like the Mets of Chicago though, right?), but my love for you is real. Mrs. Met, will you go out with me? If yes, my email is renefmillette@gmail.com. I will be awaiting your response with bated breath. (Anyone who is NOT Mrs. Met do not email me!)