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Hockey Killed A Couple Of My Relationships; Thank The Hockey Gods For That!

July 3, 2012

7/3/12

How goes it out there world? Let me send you some healing vibes. Indulge me. Thanks.

Now, onto the good stuff. Imagine, if you will, being the only female hockey fan in a place where every person around you talks about every sport, blowling included, EXCEPT hockey. Now imagine being a steady, committed relationship for several months or even years. Now imagine being asked by your boyfriend what you want for your birthday. Of course you say something like, “There’s a hockey game that Saturday in D.C. I’d love to go see the ‘BLANK’ play the ‘BLANK’. Maybe we can go see the National Zoo and get dinner beforehand.”

Thanks for continuing to play along, because now imagine you made a similar statement right out loud when asked the question. Here’s where the stereotyping gets pulled into the mix. How many men (rarely women, but that can happen) have you heard say, “Women make me nuts. They expect to guess what they want.” There’s a host of other statements I’m sure will come to mind as being associated with the previous, but we’ll stay sharply on point. Again, play along and imagine you awake on your birthday Saturday, prepare your hockey Jersey for impending live game viewing, look at your significant other who seems pleased in every way, indicating he (obviously, you’re imagining being me, so ‘he’ is how I roll) feels pretty confident he’s done well in terms of “birthday happiness” efforts and eagerly begin getting pumped for the upcoming wonderfulness that is live hockey.

Yes, you’re feeling good. You’re feeling happy. You’re feeling the hockey love. You even spend a bit of time helping your boyfriend wash all the parts and pieces by joining him in the shower. Then following-up by joining him on the living room, and then the couch and…(it’s your imagination so feel free to use it as you wish here). You check the available media to see who’s injured and who’s returning. You are ready to have a fantastic day likely to become an even better evening.

Finally, imagine getting into the car early in the afternoon, bag prepared with hockey jersey and all the related fixin’s. You notice you are going North, away from the Verizon Center (which at the time was the ‘MCI Center’). You ask where you are going. You’re told it’s a surprise. You think for a minute and realize that the Philadelphia Flyers are playing the Tampa Bay Lightning in Philly. You remember that the week prior, you and he had a conversation about an outdoor music festival just outside Philly that would be “cool to go check-out” and since it’s a two-day festival, you remember thinking you meant it would be “cool to check out” on Sunday, also thinking he was probably thinking Sunday as well considering Saturday was “hockey day.”

You arrive at your destination. You are not in Philadelphia. You are not in Washington D.C. You aren’t even in Hershey, PA (hey, you love hockey, so you’re thinking maybe he arranged some sort of Awesome AHL Hershey Bears surprise. It’s hockeycentric if you’re imagning being me properly). You begin to feel sad. You start understanding you are headed into a dinner theatre. You’re know really stretching your imagination in a severe effort to hope somehow the show you are about to see has something to do with hockey, or features a former NHLer – something – anything. You are seated across from a person who shows all outward signs of true victory and pride. You ask if you will get to see the hockey game later. You get an answer.

Let’s take time to have some fun. What do you think the answer was? Any guesses? Have fun with this. Was it, “Yes, this show is only an hour long and Wayne Gretzky is playing a cameo?” Maybe it was, “Yes, we’re sitting on the glass and a limo is picking us up as soon as this show is over.”

Imagine that no matter who in your life you have told, in English, which is the language all of your family, most friends and all of your boyfriends could speak & understood, that what you want for Christmas, your birthday, your anniversary, or at any other point in time or occassion when asked is hockey. The only time you didn’t was in the off-season and then your answer was something related to music, usually a concert of some type, But every single time you answered people who asked you what you wanted and you told them point blank exactly what you wanted, you got an answer almost like the answer received that Saturday, “I thought you’d like going out to dinner somewhere different and know how much you like theatre.”

My school teachers should be ashamed of their poor teaching skills. I was taught very bad English, because I didn’t know until I was well into adulthood that “hockey” means “theatre”. How did I manage to graduate from high school completely unable to express words in English in full, understandable English? The education standards in the U.S. have trended downward for much longer than I’d originally thought.

There’s no bitterness to be implied if you sense slight sarcasm. I could have sharpened the proverbial knife and really sunk it in deep. This is particularly light-hearted considering my recent shift in personal perspective. Imagine that.

It’s as though they truly have no English comprehension skills, are deaf, ask questions and converse in an empty room where you don’t exist. And to think, you did that thing he just can’t get enough of TWICE in the shower that morning. You’re not having a happy birthday are you?

I imagine not.

Somewhere, in a blog archive, I typed it out before. I’ll do it again.

If you don’t really care what my answer is, do everyone a favor, don’t ask. If you wonder why I go to hockey games by myself a lot; stop wondering.

Now you know.

peace – mia – singingfromthecrease@gmail.com and Twitter @creasesinger

Here’s a tip for shits and giggles – if words come out of my mouth – I mean them – I’m all weird that way. Live hockey gets ya laid fellas & it’s a crying shame for me some of you out there couldn’t understand English coming out of my mouth. A crying shame. It’s too late now. That ship sailed and the ship is called “I’ll do it myself”. Not once did I get what I wanted when asked what I wanted. This does not bode well in a long-term relationship does it?

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