Do or Don’t: One-Night-Stand Gift Baskets

Derek Jeter apparently gives gift baskets to his one-night stands by having them placed in the car service he sends his one-night girls home in. These baskets include signed memorabilia by Jeter himself. Upon hearing this, I had to ask myself a very important and feminist (or maybe feminine?) question: Would I be offended?

I imagine myself bundled up and freshly fucked, my flattering dress and dirty underwear hanging about me in that weird way when you feel like you should be naked. I’m probably a little hungover, tired and sore, and Derek Jeter has just kissed me goodbye (politely, with tongue) and put me in a car where I find a gift basket that includes a baseball signed by the man whom I have now seen naked. What the fuck?

Well first of all, I like gifts. I just think they’re great, and such an easy way to get my pants off and make me feel less slutty. So I approve of this aspect of the gift basket. Plus, a gift basket sounds like there’s all sorts of chocolate goodies and possibly mini-liquor bottles in there, which I am also into.

But I am not the groupie type. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly would think it is hot if someone is a pro-athlete or has otherwise excelled in a field, but I need a little more than that (maybe a gift?) to get me excited enough to get naked. So UNLESS the baseball is signed by Jeter with a message that says, “I had such a lovely evening last night, please enjoy this gift basket. XOXO Derek,” I am grossed out by the implication that I was boning him purely because OHMYGODIT’SDEREKJETER.

In conclusion, and upon reflection in the backseat of that Lincoln as the driver heads towards my shitty Brooklyn apartment, I am not offended. Instead, I am texting my friends pictures of the gift basket with notes saying, “Oh my God, this is my life” and “I don’t know how I ended up at his place either!” and “Brunch???”

Of course there are many reasons I don’t need to worry about this, as I have moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles and am also more writer-hot than pro-athlete-hot. Also even if I was still in NYC, I doubt I could afford to hang out in Jeter’s stomping grounds (ie Yankees games). The point is gift baskets are awesome as long as there’s not too much fruit in them. And I think we can all agree on that.

XOXO Meghan.

Derek Jeter apparently gives gift baskets to his one-night stands by having them placed in the car service he sends his one-night girls home in. These baskets include signed memorabilia by Jeter himself. Upon hearing this, I had to ask myself a very important and feminist (or maybe feminine?) question: Would I be offended?

I imagine myself bundled up and freshly fucked, my flattering dress and dirty underwear hanging about me in that weird way when you feel like you should be naked. I’m probably a little hungover, tired and sore, and Derek Jeter has just kissed me goodbye (politely, with tongue) and put me in a car where I find a gift basket that includes a baseball signed by the man whom I have now seen naked. What the fuck?

Well first of all, I like gifts. I just think they’re great, and such an easy way to get my pants off and make me feel less slutty. So I approve of this aspect of the gift basket. Plus, a gift basket sounds like there’s all sorts of chocolate goodies and possibly mini-liquor bottles in there, which I am also into.

But I am not the groupie type. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly would think it is hot if someone is a pro-athlete or has otherwise excelled in a field, but I need a little more than that (maybe a gift?) to get me excited enough to get naked. So UNLESS the baseball is signed by Jeter with a message that says, “I had such a lovely evening last night, please enjoy this gift basket. XOXO Derek,” I am grossed out by the implication that I was boning him purely because OHMYGODIT’SDEREKJETER.

In conclusion, and upon reflection in the backseat of that Lincoln as the driver heads towards my shitty Brooklyn apartment, I am not offended. Instead, I am texting my friends pictures of the gift basket with notes saying, “Oh my God, this is my life” and “I don’t know how I ended up at his place either!” and “Brunch???”

Of course there are many reasons I don’t need to worry about this, as I have moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles and am also more writer-hot than pro-athlete-hot. Also even if I was still in NYC, I doubt I could afford to hang out in Jeter’s stomping grounds (ie Yankee’s games). The point is gift baskets are awesome as long as there’s not too much fruit in them. And I think we can all agree on that.

XOXO Meghan.

Meghan Pleticha is the only hit when you Google her name.  Originally from California, she now lives in Brooklyn where she enjoys trivia nights, reality television, and her share of sex and dating.  F ...read more

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