In Place of Regularly Scheduled Programming - a Very Special, Star-Studded Event

The sigh was well-timed with the 2nd run of the 8th inning. James Spader, one of my celebrity spirit guides, appeared in the empty seat to my right. His Dodger Dog seemed to perplex him. "At first, I encountered hot dogs too small for the buns. Now I am faced with a dog too big. It seems, my dear friend, that size, indeed, matters, in nearly every way."

"Everyone saw that joke coming, James," I sighed again, grateful that the Dodgers' pitcher was falling apart pitch by pitch.

"I found it funny. Very funny. The World Series of funny. Quite unlike those shoes. Where did you get those shoes?" Christopher Walken was staring at my feet through large-rimmed glasses much like James.

"Et tu, Chris?" I asked, disappointed in his hero-worship.

"Hey! The guy is all kinds of cool!" He handed me studded black nightmares. I shook my head and wrinkled my nose.

"Whoa! Those are some shod-hoppers!" William Shatner elbowed his way through the crowd, currently groaning as the 3rd run passed home base. "Make some room."

"What are you doing here?" I asked in puzzlement at the new appearance in my celebrity fantasies.

"I go wherever he goes," he said, thumbing at James. Noticing the still-puzzling Dodger Dog, Good Ole Bill reached out and snagged it. "You're never going to risk catsup on that designer t-shirt. Good thing I wore my blood donor tee."

"It seems I've picked up a rider," James said as he handed over the dog. Bill reached for my lemonade.

"So, what brings us here?" Chris asked, perusing the shoes of all my game-mates. Soon, he would be handing out personality assessments and useful tips for communication.

"I do believe that our soon-not-young friend is running out of casual date enthusiasm. What number is this now?"

"7 in 10 weeks." I sighed amidst the roar of happiness when the Padres at long last got their 3rd out. "I've had 7 dates in 10 weeks. At this rate, I will be casually dating 5% of the single men in Los Angeles by the end of the year."

Bill guffawed through his hot dog. "What's wrong with that?"

I shrugged.

James was perusing my date. "Lovely man. Terrible fit."

"He might do better on a second date," I admitted. "He lacks the manners, though."

Chris looked hard at me. "Your collection of strappies means you want somewhere to wear them - somewhere nice - somewhere you'll need manners."

"He likes art," I said, trying to rally some enthusiasm. "We have a lot in common. He likes to travel. Just got back from fishing in Mexico."

My date was anxiously complaining about the loud youth shouting behind him. It had been an annoyance to him for 3 hours. I tried to distract him - again - by asking sports-related questions, such as why the Anaheim Angels are enjoying rising success while the Dodgers continue to decline.

The three men - well 2 of the 3 - watched the exchange with piqued interest. When I looked back, James was sitting back with an unreadable expression. Chris was shaking his head as he muttered about the risks of trying to recreate Nanette LePore with the Wal-Mart collection.

"What?" I asked. After a few minutes and in much louder voice, "What?!"

"You are giving up," James said coolly.

"I'm not!" I said quickly as I looked at Bill hitting on one of the scantily clad girls in the next row. They looked intrigued and disgusted.

"You are. You have sat here and decided that, while you are excellent casual date material, you have no potential for more."

"I can't think that. It's girly. And that's so out of fashion. For your information, I am sitting her pondering how to start my own just-cute-enough escort service - hire a girl your friends will believe is really yours!"

James moved forward to be in my peripheral vision, utterly unimpressed by my attempt at humor. "I know what you see around you: good women who are busy chasing their bliss and finding it easily while you struggle to make a connection beyond the casual. You're every guy's favorite casual date. So well-mannered, easygoing, conversational, sweet, appropriate. And that's where it ends for you."

I was growing uncomfortable, so I joined the passing wave. James pulled me back into my seat immediately.

"Barracuda," Bill said, settling back into his seat next to me but still watching the wave move around the stadium. Chris, James, and I looked at him with unworded question.

"She's a barracuda." He said by way of lame explanation.

James opened his mouth. Closed it. Sat back. Leaned forward. Finally, he reached over and pinched Bill. "Is there an elaboration in our future?"

Bill sighed. "Fish. Sea. Old analogy. Back with me?"

We paused another moment before James sat back and said, "Ah, I think I can salvage this. You, my dear, are a barracuda."

I giggled and shook my head. "Sure glad you guys showed up. I'm feeling all kinds of energized."

"I chased a barracuda for over an hour once," Chris said. "Best damn fish fight I ever had."

I was laughing by this point. "Well, that's encouraging!"

James leaned forward again and touched my hand. "Here's the crux: Christopher, you look fine in those glasses, by the way. And where is that fish now?"

"Mine's hanging on my study wall," Bill said. "Gorgeous fish! Big teeth. Good battle!" Chris agreed that his was also hung ceremoniously on some now-offending to feng shui wall. Each continued to rave about the experience and their pride at catching the fish.

I pursed my lips. "What does it say about my psyche that I dreamed you guys up and then actually felt better after being compared to an ugly fish with flesh-tearing teeth?"

"Let them eat guppies," Bill said. He winked at me before turning back to the nearly-concluded game.

"In other words," Chris said softly as he, too, leaned in to touch my knee reassuringly. "The man that catches you will not say goodbye easily. But in the meantime, the barracuda swims alone, wondering why the minnows, guppies, trout, salmon and bass get so much more attention. Wait for the right hook. Then you'll bite."

"And make a lovely wall decoration," I said in mock mocking. "Now go away. I have to feign enthusiasm about this second date offer."

And, yes, this is really what I thought during the 8th and 9th innings of the Dodger game last Wednesday night....