HUSBANDING
Today we're packing up the car and driving to San Antonio. Actually, right outside San Antonio, to a little town (that's not so little anymore). That's where my wife grew up and where she played basket ball, on a close-knit team that was undefeated until the final game of the season when they lost in the state finals.
That was 35 years ago, so tonight they're decided to all reassemble for a celebration of that accomplishment and reunionize (never understood that word. Did they have a union? Has the contract run out? Are they asking for more money or better working conditions? Tell you all about it when I get back.) Any way, it's happening. Susan hasn't seen most of these girls in 35 years. I, on the other hand, have not seen most of these girls in 57 years...which translates to NEVER.
I am by nature an introvert. Translation: This is my closet concept of what Hell must be like. While Susan relives her exploits of past glory with people who are total strangers to me, it is my job to look semi-interested and attempt to not be outwardly awkward, while being inwardly fully awkward and wondering what to do with my hands. I would prefer a root-canal without sedatives. Or, possibly having my fingernails removed with pliers.
Maybe I'll approach different members of the team and ask, "Remember that time we played ___________, and we were down by 8 with 2 minutes to go and everything looked like sure defeat and we can back to win?.....Yeah, I don't either." Or, "Do you remember the time Susan got so drunk the night before the game (absolutely never happened) and she was so hung over she went the wrong way on the court? Yeah, me either.
OK, I dread this like the plague, but I'm going...and going willingly. Why? Because she wants me to. That means she's not ashamed of me...yet. So, until, she is I have to capitalize on every opportunity, even if I'd rather be having a colonoscopy. It's called marriage. This is definitely the down side, but that's means there's got to be an up side. Wait for it...wait for it...wait for it....
That was 35 years ago, so tonight they're decided to all reassemble for a celebration of that accomplishment and reunionize (never understood that word. Did they have a union? Has the contract run out? Are they asking for more money or better working conditions? Tell you all about it when I get back.) Any way, it's happening. Susan hasn't seen most of these girls in 35 years. I, on the other hand, have not seen most of these girls in 57 years...which translates to NEVER.
I am by nature an introvert. Translation: This is my closet concept of what Hell must be like. While Susan relives her exploits of past glory with people who are total strangers to me, it is my job to look semi-interested and attempt to not be outwardly awkward, while being inwardly fully awkward and wondering what to do with my hands. I would prefer a root-canal without sedatives. Or, possibly having my fingernails removed with pliers.
Maybe I'll approach different members of the team and ask, "Remember that time we played ___________, and we were down by 8 with 2 minutes to go and everything looked like sure defeat and we can back to win?.....Yeah, I don't either." Or, "Do you remember the time Susan got so drunk the night before the game (absolutely never happened) and she was so hung over she went the wrong way on the court? Yeah, me either.
OK, I dread this like the plague, but I'm going...and going willingly. Why? Because she wants me to. That means she's not ashamed of me...yet. So, until, she is I have to capitalize on every opportunity, even if I'd rather be having a colonoscopy. It's called marriage. This is definitely the down side, but that's means there's got to be an up side. Wait for it...wait for it...wait for it....
Good boy!
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