It took three tries before Henry finally dropped his bitchy resting face.
One of the (very) few things Henry and I have in common is our love for hockey. Except that I love it waaaay more. Like, if he talks to me during a Penguins game, I consider back-handing him but I’m trying to move past that phase of my life. I’m all about keeping my hands to myself these days. (It’s a struggle.) And I’m the one who screams at the TV and throws babies at the wall when the refs make bad calls while Henry just calmly looks up from his American Crafter magazine and silently wonders what he missed. I very rarely miss a game even if it means listening to it on my phone at work (ugh) or being That Jerk who constantly checks their phone for updates when they’re supposed to be out with friends or something.
You would think that Henry and I go to hockey games like ALL OF THE DAYS since it’s the only thing we have to talk about late at night when we’re in bed knitting scarves. Well, you’re wrong—we’ve never been to one together ever! (Except for a Wheeling Nailers game in 2010.) Henry actually hasn’t even been to one since like 1991 I think he said, which made me laugh, but then I remembered that I haven’t been to very many more than that. My family used to have season tickets so I was kind of spoiled there for awhile in the 90s, but then my mom decided that having season tickets for hockey AND the Steelers was too excessive and the shitty STEELERS tickets won out. I have so much hate for her because of that. (And, you know, the fact that she all but abandoned me as a daughter, lol.)
Wow. This is quickly going down the wrong path. How about I save that for the memoirs.
Anyway, my Fairy Godmother Barb gave me two tickets to Sunday’s game against the Winnipeg Jets and it was honestly the nicest thing ever. It’s hard enough for me to go to a game because of my shitty work schedule, let alone us both going—tickets are like $$$$ for us blue-collareds and there is always something financially urgent that prevents us from splurging on our one true love. You know, things like rent. Fuck you, rent. So the last several games I went to, it was with friends. Sorry, Henry.
Of course, Barb assumed I would be taking Henry and I let her (and Henry) believe that but really I was monitoring Henry’s treatment of me over the last few days to determine if he had earned the honor to accompany me on such an important date. And he knew it too because he was fucking FAWNING over me Sunday morning. I sighed and let him go with me.
And I was mostly fine with my decision except when he nearly made me FALL INTO A SNOWBANK when we were walking out of the parking lot, ugh I hate you Henry.
Yay, I found a beer I could drink without grimacing! I was practically a Normal American at a Sporting Event! But then my friend Sean gently pointed out on Instagram that it’s not real beer, in so many words.
Chooch would have been pissed because while Henry was trying to pay for my not-beer, the cashier woman was going on and on about my purse and I was giggling because Yay, I’m awesome for buying a purse on the Internet! But, it does serve as a pretty accurate character evaluation, I guess. Henry just stood there, frowning and trying to shove his money at her.
Even frowns at the hockey game. Fuck you.
I may have cried when the Penguins came out before the game. I JUST REALLY LOVE THEM SO MUCH. :( James Neal kept leaning against the glass straight down from us and I smugly said to Henry, “This is only the SECOND closest he’s ever been to me.” And then, “OMG DO YOU THINK HE REMEMBERS ME?!” Henry just flashed one of those patronizing frown/smirks that he does to wordlessly signify that he thinks I’m stupid.
We were losing 0-2 by the end of the first period and I was in panic-mode because if the Penguins won that day, they were on a home ice win-streak and about to break a record. And it would be all Henry’s fault if they lost, just because, and we would all wear our Blame Henry pins the next day, but I would feel shame too for not taking someone else.
I’m very superstitious.
But luckily, we won 6-5! And my Prom Date James Neal had two of those goals! But really what this means is that Old Man Henry had to stand up SIX TIMES, you guys.
What a great game—thanks Barb! And thanks Henry, for being mostly OK to sit next to.
(I asked Henry if there was anything he wanted to add and he almost sneezed in my face.)