So Vanity Fair had a story about A-Rod and J-Lo this week and I’ll be honest, I didn’t read any of it except for the part about the first date/text:

Then: “She told me around the third or fourth inning that she was single,” he says. “I had to get up and go re-adjust my thoughts. I went to the bathroom and got enough courage to send her a text.”

“So I’m sitting there and he’s walking back, and I get a text,” Lopez continues. “It says . . . ” She looks significantly at Rodriguez. “You can tell her!” he says. “ ‘You look sexy AF,’ ” she tells me. They both laugh. “And then it took a turn,” Lopez says. “The fire alarm went off, and we had to evacuate.” I laugh, thinking she’s being metaphorical. “No, really,” she says. “The fire alarm went off!”

A-Rod was jerking off in the bathroom, right? I mean there is no other explanation. I’ve heard a lot of people talk about how it was weird or it was a power move on his part or about how he was swinging for the fences. None of that is right. This was accidental and he is just spinning it.

Picture this:

You’re going on a date with J-Lo. Holy cow, you can’t believe it, how did you get so lucky? I mean sure, you were a really good baseball player but in general, people find you to be an insufferable douche who flaunts his one World Series ring in Big Papi’s face, even though he has three. But I suppose J-Lo finds your business acumen irresistible.

You get out of a long day at A-Rod Corp signing baseballs and pretending to answer e-mails to find out that you are going to have dinner at Hotel Bel-Air. “A hotel?”, you think, “I’ve only ever slept at those places. Do I wear my pinstripe PJs right to dinner?” You decide to ask your date what she is wearing and she sends back a picture of herself in a nice looking dress. You see that the attire is normal dinner attire so you throw the suit on over the PJs–you don’t make the rules, society does–and shoot her your pic back, even though she didn’t ask for it.

While at dinner, J-Lo drops the fact that she is single. Your mind immediately goes to all of the singles you hit in your career and you feel something growing in your pants. Uh oh. You excuse yourself to the bathroom to get rid of your problem.

But the bathroom is a wifi dead zone so you can’t Google “A-Rod running across pitcher’s mound”, your favorite go-to pic for self-stimulation. But wait! You had sent a pic of yourself to your date so you open up the text chain and see your beautiful face in a dapper suit, the pinstripe collar of your PJs just barely peaking out. “You look sexy AF” you mutter while you do the deed, not knowing that you had pressed the voice-to-text button on your phone.

You realize your mistake after you finish up. “Shit, now she thinks she is the sexy one in the relationship, I have to fix this!” So you pull the fire alarm and casually walk back to the table. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” you say coyly to re-establish dominance. “Uhh the fire alarm is going off,” she responds. You hear the real fire alarm is going off, but you know she’s talking about you.

Relationship saved.