Turning Forty-Two Tuesday: I Still Love You, Tony Gonzalez*

Welcome to my new series, "Turning Forty-Two Tuesday", because the "Ticked Off Tuesday" thing was getting TOO negative. Plus, I am turning forty-two this year and that is "The answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything."

Even though some of my fondest childhood memories involve everyone watching Steelers games at my Grandma's house, I did not grow up watching sports. Occasionally, there was football on. Sometimes we talked about who won at dinner. In high school, though, football games were a social occasion. And I loved a social occasion.

Also, some members of the football team. Not that they were ever aware of this. Or me.

I had friends who played lacrosse and friends who played soccer and friends who wrestled and even friends who played hockey, which was not a New Jersey thing yet. But I found watching my friends play fun. So when I happened to attend a college that was all about hockey, and befriended a coach's daughter, and lived downstairs from (it seemed like) half the team, I got really into hockey.

Also, some members of the hockey team. Not that they were aware of this. Or me.

My college, BU, was also basically adjacent to Fenway Park. Naturally, I got into baseball. I mean, I'd always rooted for the Yankees, because in junior high we all had to declare our allegiance and I liked their uniforms better, but my true fandom started with the Red Sox.

By the time I left Boston 5 years later (I stuck around for a year after graduating), I was a huge baseball fan, a big college hockey fan and somewhat of a pro hockey fan. Then I moved to Portland. The only team you heard about from Oregon back then was the Trailblazers.

This did not turn me into a basketball fan. I'm pretty sure nothing will turn me into a basketball fan, unless Lovebug continues his interest in it.

Out west, removed from my Red Sox and my BU Terriers and my NJ Devils, with no internet to help me stay up to date (it was 1994), I became a Mariners fan. And a T-birds fan. The Thunderbirds were Seattle's minor league hockey team in 1994. I should totally Google whether they still exist.

Which I guess is my point. After 2 years in Portland and then 2 in Seattle, I moved to Kansas City. Where I promptly became a Chiefs fan. I tried to like the Royals and I think I went to one minor league hockey game before the team moved,  but there wasn't enough excitement. I tried to follow my old teams, but I didn't have fancy cable. Or that much of an inclination. And Chiefs games were so much fun. College football was so popular that it was easy to get sucked in. I promptly stopped following baseball and hockey and became a football fan.

I mean, I actually bought this outfit - or one similar - for baby Ironflower.

I discovered the truth when I moved back to the Northeast: I'm not really a fan at all. Since the New York area has so many teams for so many different sports, there's no city-wide obsession to get sucked into. Plus, I have no friends here who like to spend hours in sports bars drinking beer, eating fried foods and watching games.

I don't like sports; I like sports bars. And tailgating. And beer. And socializing. Home alone on a Sunday afternoon during football season? I will choose to get caught up on Parks and Recreation rather than watch a football game. Flipping the channels at bed time? I'll watch The Daily Show over any baseball game.

All these years I claimed to be a sports fan were a lie; I am actually a beer drinking fan who happens to understand the rules of most major sports.

*Tony Gonzalez was a Chiefs Tight End when I lived in Kansas City. My friend Mimi was truly in love with him, so much so that when I called her at 1 am from a club because he was there she almost left her then boyfriend in bed and came out. Also? She wasn't mad that I called her at 1 am from a club when she was sleeping peacefully with her boyfriend.

Soap Opera Sunday - College Four

You can catch up with this story here, here and here.

And the kiss was good.

Not sloppy, not aggressive and not a peck, either.

I was happy.

More dancing and kissing ensued. Then the dinner dance was over and we went back to the chalet. Everyone took turns changing into sweats - I suppose to make it easier to imbibe copious amounts of alcohol. Which they did. Okay, we did.

There was some goodnight kissing and then much needed sleep. The next day we headed back to Dartmouth, then John drove me back to Boston. More kissing.

Then back to real life. John and I talked on the phone every few days (this was before cell phones, kids - John shared the frat phone with twenty other guys and I had to pay extra for long distance). I think we had one more date (a museum, dinner, much kissing) before we declared that we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Which didn't really change how (not) often we saw each other.

After about two months, it was my birthday. I was 21. John was sailing in some big regatta and thus unavailable the entire weekend. Not that I let that bother me. My birthday is July 2nd (I stayed in Boston that summer to work as a camp counselor and take a class. . ..and party with my best friend), so I went out with my best friend on the first (because cool bars would let me in). I don't remember much, though I do remember thinking it would be cool to stand on Commonwealth Avenue and show my friend the dance I was teaching my campers. At midnight. While singing off-key.

The next day we drove to New Jersey for the huge party my mom was throwing for my dad and me (his birthday is also the 2nd and he was turning 50). The party was fun, though there was some teasing from (male) friends about my apparently imaginary boyfriend. The next night my friend Todd took me on my first trip to a gay bar, thus ensuring a lifetime of faghagdom. On the fourth, a bunch of us went to Hoboken (like partying in NYC, but cheaper and less intimidating) to see the fireworks. And drink.

(What stamina I had back in the day!)

And while drinking and looking at cute boys with Todd it occurred to me that even if one of the cute boys approached me, I couldn't do anything about it. Because I had a boyfriend. Who I never saw.

Soon after getting back to Boston, I broke up with John. We agreed that our timing was off and left things open. I was a bit sad, but mostly I felt free again. And I really thought I'd hear from John if he wound up moving to Boston (he had just graduated and didn't know what he wanted to do).

When school started again, I nearly fell over when I saw him at the huge (seriously, football field sized huge) club recruitment fest. You know the one, where all the upperclassmen try to recruit the freshmen for their clubs and intramural teams?

What the hell was he doing on my campus and why hadn't he called me?

Please go to Abish's blog for my soapy goodness, and check out founders Brillig's and Kate's blogs!