The Ninth Potion

I was on a date in August. We were having a good time and found ourselves sitting on my couch, talking. The two of us started asking each other more probing questions, the kind you ask when you're trying to get to know someone on a deeper level¹. She asked me if I had ever been in love. I told her, truthfully, that I had not been. She asked me why. Now, I could just as soon tell you why I'm right handed. Some things just are.

What struck me was the way she said it, as though she either was not sure if I was telling the truth or if she could not believe the truth. How could I not have been in love? It's easier to believe, I suppose, when you're better apprised of my, ahem, romantic history. I haven't been in love simply because I have yet to have a legitimate chance to do so.

The story is well-worn by now: Bad decisions, bad breaks, a little heartbreak. I won't bore you with the retelling. However, it does seem a little unusual: How many Americans around my age haven't had the experience in any capacity, not even as a high schooler. I do not consider this a bad thing².

To say I've been in love before means, essentially, that I have failed in love. What could be worse than being in love and having that not succeed?³ I don't want “prior experience” in love. I want to say “I love you” to one single person. I want to experience and learn love for the first time, the only time, with the person that experiences it with me only. It sounds crazy and perhaps a little too idealistic, but you can't get to the moon⁴ unless you try.

I haven't been in love. I will be, though, and that's not something I'm going to need to explain to anyone⁵.

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1 A personal favorite: Arwen or Eowyn?

2 Even if it does make me look inexperienced in some weird way.

3 With the possible exception of sucking out on a one-outer on the river.

4 And I want to set up camp in the Sea of Tranquility, to be as cheesy as possible.

5 Unless they want to know how storybook it is. In that case, I'll be happy to tell them.

A Couple More Football Thoughts

Something I didn't really think about is that there really isn't anything to watch on Sunday afternoon if you're not going to watch football¹. I'll consider it a nudging from God to read more.

My cousin Logan is seven. He's pretty big for a kid his age². His father, Scott, is one of those insane sport parents. For instance: Logan was playing basketball a couple years ago and there was a kid who was scoring on Logan a lot, apparently. Scott's solution? To tell Logan to knock the kid over. Being a good kid, Logan did as his dad told him, plowed through the child, and got kicked out of the game. Crying commenced.

Scott has Logan playing football. Being a big boy, Logan plays on the line. One day before a game, the coach said to him, “Are you gonna play football today, or are you going to be a little bitch?³” I would have removed the man's vocal cords. But did anybody say anything? No, because that's football. That's just how it is. I mean, seriously. This is out of control, and we need to get a grip. We need to say it's unacceptable to call little kids a bitch. Sports do not make it acceptable.

Oh, by the way, Logan doesn't want to play football anymore. He says it's not fun. I wonder why? He may be big enough to be a football player one day, but he's a sweet kid that just likes to giggle and goof around. This is not something to be discouraged.

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1 Unless I develop an interest in pro bowling. In that case, I'm set.

2 Or even for a 10-year-old. I can barely pick him up anymore.

3 May I remind you that he is SEVEN YEARS OLD?

A Quick Plea

Dear Conan O'Brien,

Please stop talking about how you're moving to "The Tonight Show." All you're doing is depressing us who do not want to see you move to Los Angeles and stop being funny. Furthermore, you're reminding us that the comedy black hole known as Jimmy Fallon will be replacing you. Not even The Roots can save that guy.

If the Glove Fits

Whenever I had done something for the first time with a girl- put my arm around her, hug her, etc.- I got an immediate spike in excitement, like I had accomplished a mission or something. "Yes! Success!"

I expected the same with you. Suffice to say, I was surprised. I'm not saying I did not get a thrill out of it. I always do. But when our hands met the first time, it came with a feeling of serenity. I felt like this was the way it always should be and just had not known it, as thought it were some cosmic truth that did not reveal itself to me until that moment. I had to keep looking down at our intertwined fingers to make sure it was real. To think I was amused by your nervous fidgeting beforehand! When your hand left mine, even for a few moments, it was though a part of me had become lost. I marveled at the perfect way our hands fit each other.

And when we kissed during the sunrise, a total movie moment, the rest of the world dissolved away. All that existed was us. I can remember your every movement. It was though I had found something I didn't know I was looking for, but now that I've found it, I can't go without.

Also, what you wrote to me the next day was the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me. Just the very thought of it- or of you!- is intoxicating.

It's Not Me, It's You...

...well, maybe it's me a little.

Here's the thing: I used to love football. I lived for Sunday¹ and spending the day watching guys in bright helmets run around the gridiron all day. I would bury myself in the draft every spring. I didn't miss a playoff game. Football. The pigskin. A man's² game. I didn't come to it as early as I came to hockey, basketball, or baseball, but darn it if I didn't fall in love with it. Monday Night Football! Brilliant! Heck, when the Browns left Cleveland, I didn't even miss a beat, adopting the Carolina Panthers in the meantime. When the Browns returned, I felt the excitement and decided I needed to be a part of that.

And it was fun, even watching the Brownies lose week after week. Baseball had become boring and the Penguins were so bad, it was painful³. But football was always there!

I'm not sure when things started to turn. I think it was when a player for the Eagles died and even though he was in his 40s, he took so much abuse he had the brain of a man twice his age. Maybe it was when Jerome Bettis said he felt like the game took years off his life. I started to think. Around that time, it seemed like every other player in the NFL was sustaining some horrible injury. What was I watching, exactly? These guys, insane athletes, were crashing into each other with violent force hundreds of times a game. They were quite literally killing themselves one play at a time. When you realize that, it's not a whole lot of fun to watch.

Plus, the NFL comes out with all these rules about celebrations. It's dumb. It's a game, guys. If Chad Johnson wants to do a riverdance, let him. I enjoy watching it. And lest we forget, we're supposed to be enjoying ourselves, right? Right? I suppose these rules stem from the general arrogance that comes from the game these days. Football demands you follow it. It is the “greatest sport in the galaxy,” and that should be enough for you, as one executive put it. Tell someone you don't like football⁴. See if they keep talking to you. It's crazy.

Eventually, I realized that these guys are killing each other for what amounts to a game that is actually pretty lame. Think about it: They huddle for 30 seconds, run a play for about four seconds, then huddle up again. It's so slow. Then there is timeout after timeout after timeout. What's so fun about it?

I think what kept me going was my devotion to the Browns I liked being a part of a fanbase so passionate, so devoted. These people filled the stadium even in terrible seasons. I never liked college football⁵. It's like pro football, only played incompetently. However, my general ambivalence toward the sport started to chip away at my fandom. When “fans” cheered Derek Anderson getting hurt, that was it for me. I turned my card in. The Browns got crushed by the Titans this week, and I didn't even care. That's it.

Even fantasy football, because of the prevalence of injuries, has become unfun to play. I love fantasy sports⁶, so this depresses me. I don't know how much longer I can stick that out.

So that's it. Me, not a football fan. We'll see how I do beyond the pale.

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1 Aside from going to church. I love going to church.

2 Incidentally, some of the toughest and scariest athletes I know are women. Don't mess with a rugby player.

3 Seriously, it was an insult to hockey and it makes this current run all the more enjoyable.

4 Also tell that person you think it's ironic that a country that values personal freedom so much also loves a game that exudes classic communist traits. That's fun.

5 Why do I attend so many OU games? You tell me. It must be a sense of obligation... and the 110. They weren't there for the Akron game, and I wasn't either.

6 I'm one of those guys that would rather have my fantasy team win than my pro team win. Why? Because it's my team! I'm actually involved!

Maybe I'm Out of Touch...

Now, I realize I'm hardly the first person to say this, but I've never understood the "it's complicated" option for relationships on Facebook. I never really thought about it, but someone rather important in my life now claims this status for herself, so let's dwell on it for a moment.

Let's go over this: You aren't quite sure what to make of your... relationship... quest... thing... with what may or may not be a significant other. It's unclear what direction things are heading, and even if you know how you feel about that person, you don't know how the other person feels. You don't know if you want a commitment, you don't know if the other person wants a commitment. But you like the person- that much is evident- and you don't want to be just friends.

Not only are you cognizant of these things, but you actually admit them to the other person, and they agree. How do you have that conversation? "Hey, um, look, we're not boyfriend/girlfriend, but we're not just friends, and we haven't really decided what we are. You want to let the rest of the world in on our indecision?"

Barney Frank

You da man! In response to Obama's comment that there is only one president at a time, he said: "I'm afraid that overstates the number of presidents we have."

Haw!