Congratulations on Joining the Softball Team!

Organized sports aren’t your thing, which is cool. Most of us here in the office can certainly relate. Even if organized sports do bring gambling to the forefront of our consciousnesses and occasionally let us see hot girls in strangely sexual uniforms as far as we’re concerned the various mongoloids who obsess over who hit the most home runs to win Sophie’s Cup can go fuck themselves.

But we have to make some exceptions for lesbians who just moved to small towns. Lesbians like you.

Montana isn’t really the best place to be gay. It’s also not a great place to be an outsider, but you happen to be both. So when you show up in Superior next week you’re going to feel pretty isolated. You’ll spend a lot of time staring out your windows, smoking cigarettes and wondering if the various women you see with short hair are lesbians or various abused spouses who are somewhat interested in becoming lesbians. You won’t have the courage to get out and ask anyone since Superior is about as warm and friendly as a speculum, and the people there will stare daggers at you for even mentioning Depeche Mode. God only knows what they’d do to you for soliciting them for a little bit of mutual oral in your one bedroom walk-up.

After a few weeks of misery at work where you pine over all the pretty little things in women’s suits that you want to do unforgivable things to you’ll catch a break. You’ll catch word that a women’s softball league meets once a week in a public park for some good clean fun.

Now you’ll never have played softball. The closest you’ll ever have come was once beating the shit out of a girl with a bat for calling you a dyke in high school, then avoiding suspensions because the superintendent wanted to avoid controversy. But you’ll know that softball has a reputation, and knowing that reputation you’ll sign up immediately, letting your hand linger a bit too long on the hand of the girl you pass the pen off to. She’ll meet your eyes and blush a little and you’ll immediately know you were right to slap your name down on that mimeographed sheet with a picture of a methed out baseball on it.

You’ll show up to your first practice with The Ballsey Ladies wearing a pair of short shorts and a home-made tank-top, showing off your ink and lithe little muscles. You’ll move with nigh mystic grace and poise, despite being fairly clumsy with a softball bat, and you’ll have every eye on you each time you take a base and round home.

You’ll feel, for the first time, untouchable. And when the game ends and you go out for drinks with “the ladies” you’ll really just be biding your time until you get a chance to ask that pretty little thing that blushes easy if she wants to come back to your apartment and welcome you to Superior. You’ll be sipping your drink, smiling to yourself, wondering wishing Softball had started weeks ago.

Congratulations on Joining the Softball Team!