Tuesday, September 27, 2005

I Kind of Fumble the Metaphor

My boyfriend, Jack, is not a nurturer. I'm here on a Tuesday heartbroken. Utterly heartbroken. Sunday night it hit me. All the old memories and disappointments came rushing back. My heart has been trampled time and time again I could count 47 men, maybe I get involved to easily. I looked for comfort from Jack, but he just didn't seem to understand, and of all the people in my life I thought he'd empathize the most. Instead he's all, "Those guys are bums. I don't know what you ever saw in them."
"I don't know, they're exciting and dramatic. We're from the same area and stuff."
"That's a pretty superficial reason to spend time with someone."
"I guess." But then I realized, "That's exactly why you like who you like." He said, "No. I actually worked with people I've found myself involved with."
"It's not like you haven't had your share of bums."
"You don't see me here lamenting any losses."
"But, you have lost. Your record isn't any better than mine, sweetie."
"Sure, but yours was a little more humilating, and lets face it for the last three years you haven't had any luck."
"Well, you were out of the country and I was living in Portland."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Uhh? Nothing. I got confused."
"Baby, your expectations have always been too high. Perfection is very very rare."

Too high? I think he's the one that's high. Is it too much to ask to score more often!
"They've scored plenty."
"I can't say that I was satisified with how much they scored."
"Sometimes guys just can't get it done. It happens."
He's so smug when his team is doing better. But in the end he's still a Steelers fan and he has to live with that until the day he dies unless of course he sees the light. Not that I can reccommend him getting involved with New York Football Giants.

I don't know how much more my heart can take from these guys. Ever since they got routed in the Superbowl four years ago we haven't been the same. I felt like maybe we needed to take a break. I moved to Portland, OR out of the Giants market. But in my three years I never forgot about them. Hell, I would get my ass up at 10 in the morning to ride my bike to the smoke filled sportsbar to get a glimpse of them on the TV. I'd sit at the bar drinking one hot chocolate after another until I went into diabetic shock. I'd squint across the room at the small TV in the corner and watch Kerry Collins sober ass throw interception after interception. But what did I expect I left them. Though it really hurt when they would never win a nationally televised game. In three years they didn't win a single Monday Night Football game or a late night ESPN game. Not one game I could see on a big screen or enjoy from the comfort of my home. I thought wow, they've really given up on us.

Now I've come back to my home market. I'm back for the second season in a row. That's right I was here last year. And I understood maybe last year they didn't trust that I would stay this time. But I have and I will. The least they could do is beat the Chargers. Or keep it close. You know like keep them from scoring on a few possessions. When will they forgive me for leaving? Don't they remember the good times like 1986 or 1990. Or how I stuck with them during those Ray Handley years. I even went to the stadium to watch them play during those years when no one else did. I can't believe they are willing to throw away a relationship that has lasted more than twenty years. If things don't improve by next week I'm thinking I'm going to end it with them. I'm looking for a little bit of reciprocity. I stayed home on a Sunday evening to sit infront of the television for three hours to support and cheer them on. I just don't know what to do anymore. I think I should move on. I mean the Yankees are still in it. And I hear arena football might be looking for someone.

3 comments:

Jack said...

Go STEELERS!!!!!

rachael said...

Oh shut up, Jack.

GniessGirl said...

If you break up with jack, who'd get custody of Spirit Child? Thanks for hanging - had a blast!
Smooches, Jodi