I went to the Rangers-Penguins game the other night with my boyfriend and his son. It was my first hockey game, and I'm sure that I went because if I'm at a cocktail party, I want to be able to say, "Oh, yes, they are violent but so exciting at the same time." Note to self, get invited to a cocktail party.

I decided to do something different, you know, change it up a bit, so I blew out my hair. I didn't want my boyfriend to forget how well I clean up. This is no small feat, as I don't have a lot of practice. I put on full mackiage, broke out the tight jeans, (the ones that show what religion I am- oh, wait, that only applies to a man) my new ski sweater (it was freezing and I only own one decent sweater). That fact is both pathetic, and sad, but it's also a whole other post.

After picking up my boyfriend's son, and sitting in horrendous traffic at the Lincoln Tunnel, we got to our box seats at Madison Square Garden. There are two great perks of sitting in a box. The first is the free food and booze, and the other is not having to deal with crowds.

After about five minutes, I had seen enough. While my boyfriend and his son watched the game, I got up to check out the food. As I lifted the lid of one of the Chafer's, a guy (man?) walked over and started flirting with me. Bold and aggressive. He tried to be funny by putting food on a plate, and telling me not to be shy about eating. Oh, that's not shy you're getting, it's disgust at the shriveled up fried chicken.

He put down the plate of fried delight and proceeded to tell me that I looked like (in the eyes only) Reese Witherspoon. No one has ever made that comparison. Man, this guy was reaching. Frankly it was beyond bogafied, but I said thank you anyway. I just assumed that it was a compliment.

He asked if I was there alone. As my boyfriend pointed out later, when I told him this adorable tale, "Why would a woman go to a hockey game alone?" In fact there were only two other women in the box who were clearly with the two guys they were sitting next to.

I told Mr. Flirty McFlirt, that I was with my boyfriend. He said something jokingly and started to walk away. Boredom made me play along. "Wow, that's harsh." He walked back. "No, I mean, I saw you when you walked in and thought, she's hot." Of course you did, your breathing aren't you?

It was around this time that I, not only realized how awkward and uninteresting this person was, but flirting in general. Then he said, "If you were my girlfriend, I'd want to know where you were all this time." What a friggin' turn off. I'm a big girl. My boyfriend allows to be on my own for more than five minutes at a time. I guess he trusts me. I didn't say that exactly. I think it was more like, "I'm a big girl."

Then he thought he'd go for the you look like approach one more time. He said that I looked and sounded like Laura Linney from the C Word. I'm a huge fan of hers but c'mon. All McFlirt was seeing was blond hair, but if he looked a little closer, he would've seen that I am NOT in fact blond.

I had a half a glass of white wine on a fairly empty stomach. When this happens, I get diarrhea of the mouth for about 30 minutes. I made the mistake of asking him where he was from. He started talking and I wanted to cut myself. He was 47, at the game with a buddy that he knew since high school in Manhasset, L.I., went to Syracuse, frat boy, avid beer drinker, and stock broker, living on the upper west side.

I was trying to be nice, and I don't know how it happened but when I said that I never understood that world (hoping that he'd give up and move on) he felt the need to make me understand by giving me a simple explanation.

Holy crap. Is this the shit that guys think are going to get them laid, because buying and selling puts options will not make my nipples hard. HELP! And because I am nice to a fault, I listened politely, as I dug my nails into my thigh. When he finished, I said, "Sorry, still don't get it."

He asked me where I lived and I said we live in Jersey. He said, "We?". I said, "Yeah, my boyfriend and I." He looked at me like whoa, having a boyfriend is one thing, I could overlook that and still try to fuck you, but if you live with this guy, I'm out. I walked away and joined my boyfriend and his son.

My boyfriend didn't ask me where I was, so I volunteered the information. He could not have cared less. I suppose in some way, I wanted him to feel a wee jealous of McFlirt. If there's one thing that I have made abundantly clear to my boyfriend, is my loyalty and my feelings towards him. Perhaps his coolness was because he trusts me.

What was interesting about my innocent flirting was that I was friggin' bored. It felt weird and unnatural. Of course it's nice to be complimented, but to be honest, the only man that gives me a tingle in my lady parts, is my boyfriend. It is truly his compliments that I care about and that make a difference to me.