A rare occasion for the night. Wife is watching a ball game that I am not watching.
It is a lousy game. Home team is playing catching-up all night long.
Worse than the game is she is out, on a not-a-date date.
She lets her not-a-lover-anymore friend take her out for dinner because she needs to eat.
A meal she washed down with just one sangria.
A friendly meal lasted for only three hours.
Of course he means nothing to her now.
He is only a not-a-lover-anymore friend that pays for the meal.
And maybe to have a few hours of conversation with.
She takes a shower at ten o’clock. Not to call it a night and get ready for bed.
The shower is for a date with her not-a-lover-yet friend.
It is a lousy game I am watching. Destined to lose.
I sit in front of the TV, not intend to watch the game.
There is laundry need to fold so I might as well get started.
“What’s wrong?” Wife asks.
Pulling my head out of my hands, I say: “Oh, just a bit tired. Eleven o’clock now.”
The final quarter has just started. The score is still not looking good.
Well, says who the home team must win at the end of the game?
Says who I must have the satisfaction of smiling down the rivals at the end of the day?
She will let me know when the dating halts for tonight and she is ready for bed.
And she will let me tuck her in.
Not the not-a-lover-anymore friend, nor the not-a-lover-yet friend.
Not even the soon-to-be-ex lover!
That is good enough for me.
Sports commentators say there is no quality loss but I take it to another level.
I forfeit the night games, the sleep-over games, and the weekend games.
Well, just about all-except-Thursday games.
Surely there will be no play-off games for me, let alone the championship game.
I am just in the not-so-serious practice squad.
It is good enough for me to be just in her league.