Boyfriend is head-over-heels in love…
with a pigskin-covered ellipsoid.
Or, just football.
“We are 3-0 for the first time since 2008!” Boyfriend told me excitedly in a text message earlier this evening.
Yes, lovely, Boyfriend. I am painting my nails and sipping peppermint tea, writing a paper on The Epic of Gilgamesh at my desk with the window open, letting in cool nighttime air. This is going through my brain: when Gilgamesh obviously understands the gods have not destined him to be immortal, then why does he rage like an animal when Enkidu dies, then proceed to board a boat and sail to the end of the world to ask Utnapishtim how he can become immortal? It makes no sense…
“We won 28-23! It was a great game!” Boyfriend is so happy. It doesn’t take much. It just takes a win.
“We” is his collegiate football team, who he supports with undying love and affection at every home game. He has season tickets. This is his Saturday tradition – watching big burly boys run around, throw a ball, listen to the screech of a whistle blow – standing the whole time. This is his joy – this game, this field and sunshine and tackle-heavy-strategy-ridden American emblem.
“I just like competition and supporting my teams!” he says via text.
Here is how I respond: “You are a guy. It’s so weird. I am going to write sometime about how different the things are that make us happy.”
I’m sure at this point he’s cringing: oh no. Not another feature in that blog of hers…
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask.
“Watching the Vikings!” he tells me. Along with church – that comes first.
I wonder to myself, let’s say Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and Odysseus show up in 2012 to participate in our greatest American epic sport. Which team would they play for?
Then I’m super proud of myself because I think, “TROJANS!” Which is actually a team!
I also think Boyfriend, unlike Gilgamesh, doesn’t want immortality. He just wants a good game….
which doesn’t require a sea voyage to the earth’s end. Just Saturday afternoon at the stadium, and a team that makes good plays.
Such a small thing, a small joy.