This morning my darling told me that I might not have the right personality to be a bowler.
Now this wasn't out of left field. We were having a conversation about bowling and how I have an unfortunate history of almost always getting hurt while bowling. I actually have a recurring tight spot in the back of my neck from a bowling injury about a decade ago. But then he drops this bomb that I might not have what it takes not only physically, but mentally, to be a bowler (No, he didn't use those exact words!). More explanation is needed.
My love is a damn good bowler. He's not out there just for the beer and the semi-hot women, he's out there to knock 'em down. Every Monday he heads out the door with his crippling double bowling bag to the echoes of the kids shouting "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWL!" after him. Later that night, I'll get the report of his score along with whatever token he's won: a tiny towel, a huge patch. Going to school at CSU put a crimp in his game and he went through a long slump. No fun. But going to Vermont now has really improved his game. Mondays are good again.
E has been bowling every Monday, September through May, almost our entire marriage. My dad taught him to bowl and put him on the team. It was their bonding thing. Dad's not on the team anymore, but E's still out there. When E was just learning to bowl, I would go out and watch him practice and keep score. Dad took me bowling a couple of times as a kid, but never seriously, not like when we would go play Putt-Putt. Now I wonder... Did Dad give up on trying to teach me to bowl, because he sensed that I didn't have the heart of bowler? Great bowlers are born, not made? Nature vs. Nurture? Ya got it or ya don't?
E says that the monotony of bowling frame after frame, week after week, year after year, isn't my style and that I would be bored with it. Could be true. He asked me if I want to spend the next 20 years trying to pick up the 10 pin. Not really. He finally pointed out that I also have a strange aversion to loud mouth a-holes, which bowling alleys seem to spawn. Case well made.
So, I'm not a bowler, but I'll take you apart on the Putt-Putt course.
3 comments:
He asked me if I want to spend the next 20 years trying to pick up the 10 pin.
Oh. My. God. This is "My E." Quintissentially him. God, how I adore this man's brain.
He needs to call me or email me. Immediately.
Ugh. I dislike bowling immensely. I always manage to rip off fingernails down past where they are still attached to skin, and usually end up with scored like 27 or the like. And the creepiest guy I ever meet kept telling me all about how he'd teach me to bowl. ugh. More than ten years later and I still get the shivers just thinking about it. But, candlepin bowling was totally a hoot. If you ever get the chance, take it. But warn E that he will totally suck at it! That tiny little ball doesn't have holes! Maybe we'll have to try some putt putt the next time we're in town!
Whos he kidding, he's there for the "Semi-hot Babes" and beer! Bowling's just an excuse. Other than that he's ok I guess. Tell him for me that Cleveland still SUCKS! GO BEARS!
Tell the girl and boy I need thier help decorating Friday A.M. Miss you all much.
Happy Turky day.
Post a Comment