i want to love you, BYD.

there comes a time in every sports fan's life when the stars align and they have the cherished opportunity to see their favorite player up close and personal. for me, it was first when i was 10 years old and met vinny del negro at basketball camp. but, more recently, i received a dick pic from a new york yankee.

that's right ladies and gentlemen. an active member of the yankees sexted me his bronx bomber.

it all started with a tweet.

one summer evening, my friend meghan and i made the trek across the bay to a's stadium. our yankees were in town and it was our obligation as west coast fans to show up in blue and stare at jeter's ass.

plenty of beer, nachos and chicken fingers later, the yankees were still losing. so we directed our attention to the pitchers' bullpen, where one particular number 38 caught our eye. of course, we googled the shit out of him. he's a closing pitcher just pulled up from the minors and he was oh so very cute. between his looks at his dirty side arm, we were drooling. swoon town USA. population 2.

disappointed by the yankee loss, but even more so our boy not getting on the mound, we decided to voice our opinion via 140 characters:

one sullen BART ride later and i was in the comfort of my bed, getting ready for an 11 mile training run awaiting in the morning. and just as i was drifting off to sleep i was startled by a buzzing iphone. turns out, our closing pitcher is also pretty social media savvy and started following me on twitter:

there was a bit more back and forth during my run. something along the lines of him wanting me to run to his hotel, as long as i promised not to "take advantage" of him. really, guy.

so many things were flashing through my mind:

am i SERIOUSLY going to go to this yankee's hotel room right now? i really need to finish this run. maybe i'll head over there after? what if i re-routed and ended at his hotel? no... can i really go there sweaty like this? no chance. but... he's a major league baseball player! when does this ever happen? well, for him, probably everyday. what underwear am i wearing? no, i can't bone a yankee.

this internal struggle continued on for the next couple miles. but then, in true mama form, before i could even come to a decision, i was rounding out mile 10.5 and completely ate shit. as in, knee to concrete. i'd completely busted through my fleece lined running pants. blood everywhere. scraped hands. and had definitely become the highlight of about 50 tourists' morning.

needless to say, this put a bit of a damper on my yankee meet up as the rest of my afternoon was spent with hydrogen peroxide and band aids.

the yankees ended up losing yet again (did i mention he threw the pitch to the opposing team's winning run? ouch). i figured i might as well voice my condolences to the yankee through twitter DM. can't hurt, right? might as well keep him on the back burner in the off chance they came back for a playoff game later in the season (le sigh).

the yankee responded, and according to him, i could make him feel better if i sent a picture of me. i'm typically not one to "sext" (as clearly proven on my birthday), so you could imagine my apprehension. but that didn't stop him:

...cute, right?

to save my dear mother's sanity, i will withhold from divulging the actual word for word text exchange that preceded these photos, but it had something to do with him bending me over in the shower. i didn't think people actually spoke this way outside of pornos. but, oh was i mistaken.

this was quickly becoming very much out of my realm of expertise, so i called upon the jedi master of dirty talk: cameron aka daddy. daddy is one of the most sexually in-touch people i know. he's never afraid to be upfront about any and all things sex related (that's including, but not limited to, introducing women to anal beads). i knew he'd know exactly how to respond. 

and thus my sexting apprenticeship began in the form of copying and pasting sexy text messages from one hornball to the next.

apparently it got the job done because the next day, while minding my own business at happy hour, it happened: the dick pic. i'd like to claim this was completely unsolicited, though that's not quite the case. he might have requested a picture of my ass (if you knew the hill i live on and the many a stair in my apartment, you'd want a picture of it too!) in return for a photo of him. and, upon promising to hold up my end of the deal, in addition to never telling or showing anyone his photo (HA!), i was in possession of the BYD. big. yankee. dick. 

nothing could have prepared me for what i had just laid my eyes on. i am still traumatized to this day. i'm not going to claim i'm an expert in dicks (not to be confused with my father, who is a vagina expert), but it was HUGE. and veiny. and almost purple. it made one of my coworkers squeal, giggle and turn hot red (so much for not showing anyone). 

unsure what to do next, i ignored the yankee for a few hours. which did not go over well. apparently it's rude not to complement a dick when presented to you. he was also less than impressed by my lack of photo reciprocation. 

that night, at 1 a.m. (4 a.m. EST), my phone rang. it was him! is this bro for real? waking me up in the middle of the night? our conversation went a little something like this:

me: ...hello?
him: where's my picture?
me: what? it's 1 in the morning.
him: but i sent you my dick!
me: i didn't ask for it!
him: send me a picture.
me: dude, i'm asleep, it's 1 in the morning. i'll send it tomorrow.
him: ok. promise?
me: yep.
him: really?
me: yes. bye.

my method of stalling was starting to wear thin. so i caved. hey, a promise is a promise. i sent him a picture of my ass in a lacy thong (without my face in the photo, obviously, because c'mon - that's just sexting 101). this was finally enough to get the kid off my ass (heh).

you're probably wondering why the photo of this legendary penis is nowhere to be found here. first of all, this is not an outlet for pornographic imagery (and i'm certain my employer would agree). secondly, most of you have probably already seen it. if not from me, then from some other jersey chasing slut (i hear he gets around). but in all honesty, i don't know that professional athletes are really my cup of tea. they seem to be exponentially needier and hornier than i had ever imagined.

although... baseball season is right around the corner. we'll see what kind of trouble i get into this time around.

"star wars got me laid," said no one ever.

...until me. on my the eve of my birthday celebration.

as everyone knows, birthday sex is one of the most coveted experiences in life. it can either make or break what is already a tumultuous day of facing yet another year older. and what better way to cope but mixing two of my favorite things: sex and star wars.

pretty sure those two have never before been in the same sentence.

until now.

back to the night of the birthday party: lots of friends. a plethora of booze. and one very feisty neon boustier that was aching for some action. and thus, at 11:05 p.m. on that saturday night the following literary genius (with he who shall remain anonymous) was formed:

in spite of what it may seem by the address exchange, this lad happens to be a very good friend of mine (in fact, if you'd like to read more about our relationship, you can do so here). i just hadn't had the pleasure of seeing his new place yet. so, i walked up the stairs to an apartment i could only assume was the right one and headed in. i stumbled into the living room, since i had no idea where i was going (the copious amount of booze wasn't working in my favor either), and found his roommate sitting on the couch with an entire pizza to himself (my friends are classy).

after an awkward hello and happy birthday, his roommate pointed me in the right direction.

i knocked on the door. and was welcomed into a room lit by candles and my friend chillin' ever so casually in the middle of his king size bed.

"hellooooo there...."

...and happy birthday to me.