My husband, Wayne, used to play semi-pro hockey.
Sadly, this was long before I came into his life.
I think it’s hot.
So the other day we somehow got onto the topic of him playing hockey again.
I said, “You should do it. I’d go and watch you. I’d hold up a sign in the stands that says ‘GO BABY!’ Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Not really,” he replies.
“Really? It would be fun!”
Then I break into a beat: Go baby! Go baby!
“Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“Not really,” he says again.
“Come on! Then your team mates would look up into the stands and say, “Who is that chick up holding the ‘GO BABY!’ sign?” And you could tell them, “That’s my wife,” and then they would say, “That’s your wife?” and you could say, “Yup,” and they would say, “You get to tap that ass every night?” and you could say, “Not every night. Only the nights that I don’t fall asleep on the couch.” And they would say, “If I had a wife that looked like that, I’d be tapping that ass every night.” And you could say…”
But he’s not listening anymore.
He’s walking down the hallway.
So I yell out, “So what do you think? You gonna play hockey again? I need some notice so I can get working on my ‘GO BABY!’ sign.”
He doesn’t answer.
Well I think it would be fun.
I can tell he’s smiling on the inside.