Settling in for the night, we began having one of those discussions. You've had them. The sort of talks where the point is more to purge information from your head than to exchange information, or to really have a meaningful dialogue. I sort of caught her in mid-topic.
"So, she said she'd like to give us the tickets. She didn't want the season tickets to be wasted, and she thought we'd enjoy the play."
While sorting out my own thoughts soon after my head hit the pillow, I'd obviously missed some important aspects of the discussion. Being the good detective I am, however, I was able to piece together "she," season," tickets," and "play" into a completed puzzle that read: "Our friend Sandy can't use her season tickets to a playhouse in Cincinnati, and wants to give them to us."
"Sounds like fun, let's go" I said. Rescuing myself from the disaster of not listening to intimate pillow talk is hard work. I was ready for some sleep.
"But, the play is on February 1st."
She said it as though February 1st was an important date, but I couldn't recall anything we had scheduled that day.
"That's not the day I'm doing the Polar Plunge in Charleston. That's February 7th."
She chuckled. "I know, you've been talking about that for weeks. I just didn't think you'd want to go on the 1st because it's the Super Bowl."
From my middle-teens through most of my adult life, I've been that guy.
Big game Saturdays in front of the TV.
Big game Sundays in front of the TV.
Big game Mondays in front of the TV.
Pretending to enjoy shopping with my family on weekends at the mall, but always manipulating my way to the electronics sections of the super-stores in order to catch up on the latest scores. I can do a helluva impersonation of Hank Williams, Jr.'s Monday Night Football theme song, perfected by season after season of practice.
Some of my life highlights are remembered through football prompts; Mrs. Film Geek and I started dating the year Jeff Hostetler lead the New York Giants to the Super Bowl.
"I don't care about watching the Super Bowl," I said. And I didn't. At that moment, spending time with my wife in Cincinnati sounded much more interesting than sitting at home watching The Big Game.
"Let's do it, let's go. It will be fun."
We stopped talking and, [ahem] went to sleep.
Something about that moment has made me reflect on maturity ever since. Did the fact that I preferred spending time with my wife rather than watching sports mean I was suddenly an adult? A grown man, with a grown man-type perspective? Had I reached the ultimate degree of selflessness, a goal I've hoped to achieve my entire life?
Or, was I simply complacent in the fact that technology will allow me to get out of the Lazy Boy and still watch or keep current with the game? The thought did cross my mind.
Besides, Steelers vs. Cardinals will be a blow out, anyway.