Last night, I wanted to go to one of the wrestling matches for the team state championships. I haven’t gone to any this season and knew there were going to be some really good ones this year. However, I was put in an awkward predicament. I knew where I wanted to go, but I had no one to go with. All of my wrestling buddies were at college so there was no way they were making the trip back to see a high school match. I had to make the decision whether or not I would stay home or go alone.
I started wondering to myself if it was weird to go to places alone where most people attend with family, friends, or even loved ones. This not only has happened to me last night, but has been a dilemma for some other situations. Going to the movies, going to dinner, and even shopping are things I might not have people to always go with. I hate going to a diner and sitting down at a booth alone as I look around and see friends laughing with each other and couples snuggling up next to each other. The worst is when the waiter takes the place mat away in front of you as if to broadcast to others that you are alone. At least at the movies, it is dark enough where you can sit alone and no one can really see you. It’s only bad if the theatre is packed and you are sitting in that awkward place situated in-between two couples. Not only is it horrible when they stare and judge all the food you are consuming for one, but then its just uncomfortable if you look around as the couples are holding each other and making out. So what are people going to think when I’m sitting alone in the bleachers while they are all talking with families and friends.
Fortunately, one of my friends was home and called me to go with him. It was one of the most intense matches I have ever been to as the gymnasium was packed to the brim with screaming parents and a chanting student section. People were pulled out by cops and the athletes actually really put it all on the line with their rivals. As I was sitting there, I was thinking that I still would have enjoyed the match just as much by myself. Yeah, I wouldnt have had someone to talk to during the matches and drive there with, but the actually match still would have been exciting and entertaining. And all this stuff I made up about people staring and judging me was probably just something I have made up in my head. If there is no one around and you really want to go somewhere, you should just go and enjoy it. In the end you’re not going to have someone around you all the time to do regular stuff. So why should it stop you from doing something you really enjoy and like.
My favorite thing about the Super Bowl besides the actual game is being able to pig out without any judgement. It doesn’t matter if you scarf down a whole bucket of fried chicken using a liter of Dr. Pepper as mouth wash because the person next to you is probably doing the same thing. It’s one of the best days of the years as everyone relaxes and enjoys each other’s company with beer, food, and the pigskin being tossed around on the television. But before the kickoff, your body shuts down and it feels like you hit a wall. You just finished the tray of appetizers but your stomach is throwing in the towel before the best food dishes even come out. The only setback of having all these delicious meals to gobble up on the most sacred days of sports is people usually eat with their eyes and not their mouth.
Worried about having enough food to eat, I decided to make sure I thoroughly was ready to filly myself with snacks and appetizers for the entirety of the pre game, actual game, half-time show, and post game. I called up the local Hooter’s and placed a mild order for twenty pieces of original, buffalo wings. I may have been going big for this epic chow down, but I wasn’t stupid enough to fill my whole Super Bowl diet with just wings. I needed a variety of subsistence to make this marathon of eating memorable.
I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant to find myself looking at a line wrapped around the building. Not only was this delay in my mealtime unexpected, but the freezing temperature and ice cold wind would surely make this wait feel like some sort of torture. I headed to the back of the line as I pulled my arms close to my body to keep warm. I could already notice the aggravation on some people’s face, while others exclaimed the amount of time they have been in line for like it was contest to see who has been waiting the longest. The line honestly wasn’t that bad and moved pretty quickly. I found it hilarious to see people carrying boxes and boxes of wings as the sauce dripped onto the asphalt. One lady even had two employees haul out the five boxes of wings she had ordered. I haven’t even seen that many wings in the actual Hooter’s at once, let alone being carried into one person’s car.
I finally made my way to the front of the line to see an assembly line of wings being packed and given out that would have made Henry Ford proud. I got my order and was ready to race off to my next food destination. I met my girlfriend at the grocery store, which I was surprised to see was a lot less hectic than Hooter’s. She already had the shopping cart filled with three bags of chips, different dips, and cold cuts from the deli. I soon burst out into a nervous panic that this wouldn’t be enough to occupy me for the whole game. I rushed her around shoving every frozen food appetizer I could find from baby hotdogs to lasagna. After filling the whole cart and even the bottom part under the carriage, I was happy and ready to begin my Super Bowl day.
As I was snacking on some cold cuts and cheese, all the frozen appetizers I had just bought were heating up in the oven and microwave. I couldn’t wait to be watching the game as I savored some nachos and drank a cold glass of soda. The biggest problem would be what order I eat everything in. The kickoff was just about to start when the timers went off. My girlfriend and I laid out everything we had just bought on the table. I didn’t know what to choose so I just shoveled a bunch of everything onto a plate. I plopped down on the couch and was all set. Everything was in place and ready to be consumed. Just as I was about to bite into a delicious potato skin, something struck me. I couldn’t find the strength to finally enjoy the food I had been craving all day. I didn’t know what it was until my stomach felt like it just did a backflip. I was totally full and there was no way I could keep going on. I started having pains and knew this was it. I put my plate down in defeat and assumed the fetal position on the couch.
Maybe it was all too much for me to handle. I had set my hopes too high just to see them crash before me. The probable answer was I had just consumed close to four pounds of cold cuts along with a bowl of chips and a veggie platter. Instead of piling food into my mouth for the next four hours, I was stuck with my girlfriend rubbing my stomach as I cringed in pain. All of these snacks we had just bought now are sitting in the fridge wrapped in tinfoil. Unfortunately, I must accept my fate as I eat all these left overs like a normal person pacing myself throughout the week.
If you asked any guy in America, they would say that baseball or football is America’s pastime. Nothing is more enjoyable than cracking open a few beers with friends on a Sunday as you watch your team march to victory. The best part of it all is when you have your amazing girlfriend right there by your side. Not only does she wear your team’s jersey with pride, but she puts up with all your friend’s antics as they spill drinks on the new coffee table and get crumbs on the ground. And when you’re passed out on the couch after all the excitement, she’s the one who cleans up that night. She might not know all the rules of the game or where your favorite player went to college, but she loves you and loves making you happy. However, all of this fun and enjoyment doesn’t come free even for the most caring boyfriend. Since she put up with your favorite sport, it’s now time for you to indulge in her favorite pastime: shopping.
The most devoted fan, raging with testosterone can’t compete with a woman getting ready to scope out each store’s new seasonal line of clothing. Right when they take that first step into the mall, a gun shot rings out and they are off on a marathon. Unlike sporting games where the fans are distracted by talking to friends, eating, and drinking; women are focused for every second of this shopping event. They speed walk past on-coming obstacles of people walking slow as they eagle out each store window. While most people have their favorite team, women don’t have a single team they cheer for. They like every store and show their appreciation by going in and looking at every piece of clothing they have. And just like every good team, a woman needs a good supporting cast to help her make the big decision of which outfit to buy. This is where girlfriends come into play. They form a huddle even more intense than a football team down by one point with ten seconds left in the game. They pick apart each detail of the clothing until they are more than a hundred percent sure it is the right fit. And you better hope you don’t get in-between a group of girls shopping over shoes, because they will humiliate you more than a group of angry, drunk fans after their team lost. But what if a girl can’t get in touch with her friends for shopping. This is when she calls in her ringer: the boyfriend.
If you thought a drill sergeant was bad, you have never met a girlfriend shopping with her significant other. She will hustle you around to each store as she shouts out orders. From hurrying up to stop dragging your feet, you will be pushed to your limits. Most men don’t survive the marathon of hauling around bags of clothes for hours or the dreaded sitting on the chair in the waiting room, which has broken down the strongest of soldiers in the past. You will be demanded to critique every outfit as if you work for Vogue and know the latest trends. Halfway through all this, you will be on your last breaking point. Barely able to keep your eyes open from exhaustion, you will suck it all up because you may never hear the end of this if you don’t. Finally, the marathon is over and you let out a sigh of relief. But what about when the tables are turned, and the guy wants to buy something for himself.
This has happened to me plenty of times. I wake up with that confident feeling that I am going to head to the mall and finally buy some well-needed clothes. I call up my friends, but they are either all busy or don’t have any money to spend there. My girlfriend is busy, so this means I need to venture to the mall by myself. It will be simple and easy. I walk into my favorite store and just pick out a couple t-shirts and jeans. I mean it couldn’t be that hard if my girlfriend does it so easily. I park my car and walk through the giant, sliding doors glowing with confidence and excitement.
As I get to the main hallway, I am quickly engulfed in a crowd of parents pushing around strollers of screaming babies, teenagers howling like banshees, and kiosk workers almost tackling you to get your attention. I am a little overwhelmed so I begin to almost sprint to my favorite store. I head in there and feel a sense of relief. I begin to sift through all the shirts, but I notice there is nothing really that catches my eye. I hastily grab a couple t-shirts as I proceed to the jean section. I am confused by all the different types of pants. Most of the styles seem like they are made for people with legs as skinny as spaghetti noodles. I can barely find my size until I pull outthree stacks of jeans and find it all the way in the back. Now I rush over to the changing rooms only to find myself waiting in a line. The wait seems like hours as I become more anxious. It seems like everyone is staring at me and judging the options I have chosen. Right before I am about to give up, the employee brings me to my room. Optimistically, I try on the clothes and none of them look good. The t-shirts don’t fit right to my body, and the jeans that are my size feel like they are putting a death grip on my legs. I put my original clothes back on and dread this walk of shame out of the changing room. As I hand the employee back the failed outfits saying none of them fit, she gives me the worst look ever. It is almost as bad as when a parent doesn’t say they are mad at you, but rather disappointed. I walk through the store and see all the happy people check out and find the perfect clothes. I couldn’t understand what had went wrong for me.
As I get back to my car, I rest my head on the seat and stare at my ceiling. I feel that sense of failure washing over my body. After that ordeal of shopping, it made me wish I was there with my girlfriend. She would have helped me pick out the right clothes with her eye to detail and attention. As she stands right next to the changing room door, she would tell me what looks good and what doesn’t. Even if we couldn’t find something in one store, she would lift my spirits until we find that perfect outfit somewhere else. It really makes me appreciate everything she does for me, and makes me respect how she can handle all the obstacles and dramas of shopping. It doesn’t bother me if she drags me around to every store in the mall for four hours, and it doesn’t bother her to sit through a whole football game. This is what love is.