A long, complicated, drunken story

I play softball on the co-ed rec league in my very rural town, and have been involved with said league for several years. As my readers can imagine I know a lot of guys, and beastly women. So, when I go to the local sports bar on a Saturday night my chance of running into a softball player in the league is fairly great. As my title indicates this is a long and complicated story, that will eventually lead to text messaging, and I'm going to use bullet points that will represent the evening in a chronological order:

1. Ordered a drink, and noticed that a man, that plays in the league (on a different team) is sitting about five yards away from me; I'm not surprised I've seen him there before. He was sitting at a table with a large group of people, and I did not want to interrupt him, so I engaged in conversation with my good friend and d.d.
2. I notice that the my fellow softball player's group had dwindled down to him, a very pretty young girl, and two really geeky looking guys. The table dynamics did not make a lot of sense, but I didn't think much about it.
3. I order my second drink; while talking to the waitress I get a good glimpse of the softball player's knee comfortably resting against the pretty young girl's knee. I have a buzz at this point and am confused because my softball colleague is married; she plays softball as well.
4. I decided that it was a good idea to text another friend of mine, who also plays ball on the same league, to see if he knows about the status of their marriage. Perhaps I'm jumping then gun, he could be going through a divorce.
5. Frustrated that I'm not receiving an answer (doesn't everyone have their phones on hand for texting at times like these?) I happen to glance over and see that the pretty young girl's legs are draped over his. Not a comfortable position to be in, so clearly there is an ulterior motive for this leg touching. I very "inconspicuously" take a pic with my camera phone.
6. Waitress comes back, and I order my third Bacardi and diet coke. Still haven't gotten a text message in return, I storm off to the rest room to break the seal.
7. On my return from the bathroom, I accidentally make eye contact with my follow softball player. This is not a conversation I want to have, but I can chit-chat with almost anyone, and I wanted to see if he was wearing his ring (he totally was). We discuss the progress of our respective teams in the current season...that was it.
8. I get a text message (from someone that I don't play softball with) and I am currently preoccupied until my good friend and d.d. pulls me back into the world of the bar, "You really pissed her off."
9. At first I'm confused and then realize that the pretty, young girl no longer is draped over my softball player, but is sitting up right, scowl on her face and furiously tapping away at her cell phone.

Yes, oh yes, she was texting about me. Realizing that someone is texting about you is very disconcerting. If it was an actual conversation I could move closer to overhear, not the case in the world of the text. I'm fairly sure she was letting some other young, pretty friend know about how she thinks that I'm a whore, because I talked to a league mate about the softball league. Apparently she completely forgot she was trying to get in a married man's pants. But why wouldn't she be jealous, if he's willing to cheat on his wife, why wouldn't he be willing to cheat on his mistress. As if mistress is some sacred position to be.

So I guess the moral of my story is that people who live in glass house shouldn't throw hate texts around, or at least shouldn't be so obvious about it. Oh yeah, and of course that extramarital affairs are not OK.