From the How in the Hell did I get here category…

I did not do well in high school, get scholarships for college, break up my boyfriend before college  in order to experience the full campus experience, do well in college, start dating S., get engaged, move to North Carolina, put S. through graduate school, get married, move to West Virginia, move to Pittsburgh, graduate with my MFA and honors, move to Michigan, get an actual writing job, and support S. as he goes through law school…

all to fight about whether he watches sports or spends time with me.

But here we are.  So, ladies, be warned.  Even if your man claims to love reading, antiquing, taking romantic weekend trips in the country -even if he cooks you dinners, does your ironing, promises to be a fully involved father when the time comes, even if HE IS THE MOST PERFECT SPECIMEN, YOUR SOUL MATE, THE ONLY PERSON YOU COULD EVER SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH, I can now confidently say there will come a time when there will be you, and there will be the first pre-season football game, and you will come in second.  And it will bad, bad medicine.  And yes, you can fight it.  You can point out all the other things he gets to do, and you dramatically call up old insults and injuries, and you will find it absolutely unbelievable that at one time you had a liberated, loving man who made blueberry cakes with cinnamon icing and agreed, that, you know, women’s voices were so utterly crushed by the Elite Male Power Structure in This Country, but you will not win. 

Probably there are dozens of ways to handle this situation – I’ve decided to give S. beer money and send him on his way, while remaining utterly amazed that the hundreds of tiny steps I took in my life to avoid exactly this sort of argument have landed me in the middle of every bad sitcom on television, that suddenly, there is the game, and there is the wife, and that, simply, is that.

I keep trying to format Anne Sexton’s “Cinderella” for the third poem in this series but it refuses to work, so here is the link: – it fits in well with today’s topic.

This entry was posted in Everything In Between, The Private, Top 100 Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to From the How in the Hell did I get here category…

  1. bloglily says:

    ha. You give him the beer money sweetie and go spend the time writing. He’ll be there when you get back and you’ll be the triumphant one (quietly, of course) because You Were Productive.

  2. Emily says:

    Bloglily is right. Find out when all the games are on, and learn to think of it as time for yourself, to pamper yourself and to do the things you know that even when he does them with you, he doesn’t really enjoy them, so you always have to worry he may not be having a good time. And be thankful it’s football and not baseball (which seems to be on 24 hours a day for months on end).

  3. elitist says:

    Saw your comment on Emily’s blog and just had to tell you this: my friends and I would play that game with the 3 names and 3 jobs, etc, on behalf of other people we knew, then we would prank call them with a free “psychic reading”, speak with an accent and recite the results of the game. … Sometimes I think we should still do that…

  4. Oh I know it’s maddening. My perfctly reconstructed, cooking, fathering, dishwasher-unpacking man is a sport addict too. There are two ways to handle it, firstly as BlogLily says use the time usefully to do something for yourself, or secondly, join him. I’m all for the first, but I’ve seen many women take the second route and become major sports fans themselves. I’ve had TWO MONTHS of excessive sport-watching in my home thanks to the soccer and the Tour de France and I’m relieved that we can now return to normal viewing …

  5. Thanks for the wonderful comments, everyone. Bloglily, oh, I happily sent him on his way, but since it’s Friday night I think I’ll use the time to catch up with a couple of friends instead of write…terrible, I know! Emily, actually this is only one of a million sports in our household, but I’m a fanatic about most of them…I do love football, and baseball has been on all summer long ,and I like college basketball…I think, after all the baseball that we’ve done this summer, that’s why I was annoyed…Elitest, that’s too funny! I never thought about that twist on the game..Charlotte, oh, I love sports. This was just one of the ‘particular’ instances that took me by surprise. There’s some facetiousness in the post, really – it’s just funny when you realize sometimes where you’ve ended up!

  6. litlove says:

    My husband is a keen rower, which means over the months of June and July we lose him from family life two or three nights a week and often twice on weekends. Then there’s the races his training has been leading up to – a week of not seeing him. I used to get very upset about this, but now I negotiate. This is fine but there then has to be investment back in family life – he has to cook the supper every once in a while when the rowing season is over, and take our son swimming, and make a BIG fuss of me. It was worse when my son was smaller – now he’s good company and so we have a good time on our own, but make sure you bargain for something you want. Taking is fine, so long as it’s matched by giving in my book. And I don’t think it’s a small thing at all – it’s the kind of thing that can really grate (on my nerves at least).

  7. kj says:

    Well, I have to say that the game was pretty damned good. I went to it. Sat right there, eight rows from the field, drinking seven dollar beers, and I loved it. The people watching. The sounds. And of course, the Lions. Yes, it is silly. No, it is not productive. But it is a great release to watch and cheer and boo and swear. I don’t know why. It just is. Sort of like how I don’t understand why women need so many shoes. Or why it takes them so long to get ready to go out. None of it bothers me, but it’s very curious the way the sexes go about trying to get along. Enjoyed this blog!

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