The Bachelor Log Returns!
The Bachelor Log returns! You loved it (Tens of people stopped me at parties to say they thought it was hilarious. Tens!); you missed it and thanks to Chi Omega National Convention (Motto: OMG! Snaps!) it has returned!
My dearly beloved has gone out of town at a most inopportune time for me. While I miss her and all that jazz, she skipped town for Phoenix during the worst possible days of the year: the Major League Baseball All-Star break.
For the uninitiated/women who lack boyfriends that care deeply about sports, these are the most boring three days on the calendar. The sports world literally shuts down, causing massive waves of boredom for every red-blooded American male between the ages of 12 and 107. Guys that haven’t cracked open a book since college come shuffling home with a couple of best-sellers plucked off the rack at Barnes and Noble, just to have something to do.
Why ESPN even bothers to have programming during this time is beyond me. Give me a 72-hour loop of the year’s greatest games and news-worthy moments over any of this other contrived crap. And you can take the ESPY’s and shove ‘em; fans, reporters and PR people spend the rest of the calendar year sniffing the farts of professional athletes and I see no reason we should have show devoted to doing that.
Women have a curious affinity for wanting to take the most random couple adventures (blueberry picking, tandem bike rides, you name it) on very inconvenient days in the male calendar: Final Four weekend, Opening Day for baseball/football, any fall football Saturday. Ladies, I’m going to give this one to you, it’s on the house and I want you to commit it to memory: for three days in July, there are no sports. Your man is lying if he says there’s a ballgame on except the All-Star game and we’d all happily skip that to go wine tasting if it got us a free pass on an as-yet-to-be-determined Saturday come fall. How come women don’t see the importance of the Arkansas-Mississippi State game and how bird-watching pales in comparison?
So how does a guy (me) with a deeper devotion to sports than to most other things in life get through the dog days with no sports to occupy his interest and no wife to do stuff with? To the list!
- Movies – Not girly, boring rom-com crap. I get that enough with my wife at home (love you, sweetie!) Guy time deserves guy movies. So far, I’ve watched Boogie Nights and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and I would wager I’ll watch at least two dozen more murders or drug overdoses on-screen before the weekend is through.
- Eat – Just a ton. I’m going to be obese by the time she comes home and I don’t care. French bread pizza may be the devil, but it’s damn tasty.
- Read – Not for everyone I know, but I have caught up on a lot of reading.
- Play video games – Now is a crucial time of year in the video game department. NCAA Football 13 was released to much fanfare and now a nation of men will win championships and smack-talk friends to kill time until actual college football season kicks off in late August.
- Drink – It’s been a while since college; that said, if time worked out like I was hoping it would I was all set for a 72-hour bender while the missus was away. Alas.
- Practice ball-tossing skills – At my house, I’m now responsible for entertaining a dog that will climb on someone’s chest, stick her butt in their face and fart if no one is paying attention to her (lovely creature; everyone should get one!) So I’ve gotten pretty good at tossing a ball to her while simultaneously doing other stuff (reading, writing, watching TV) so we’re both entertained. She’s pretty damn good too; she can go up and get it like a young Ken Griffey Jr.
- Write – I keep toying with the idea of beginning a book. I don’t know what it would be about, or the name of a single character or even the rough outline of a beginning. I was all set to really think about those things this week, but I’ve spent the last 48 minutes scratching myself so I doubt it comes together like I hoped.
- Golf – All set to brave extreme temperatures in the name of hitting a golf ball in terrible, haphazard fashion and swearing a lot, Mother Nature snuck up and kicked me in the crotch with the first week of rain we’ve had in three months. So I’ve practiced putting in our office area, which means I hit the ball on a little mat and my dog snatches it halfway to the hole and hides it under the couch. I’m not getting much done that way.
- TV – Reality competitions (America’s Got Talent) and sleek spy shows (Burn Notice)? Must be summer.
- Human interaction – I’ve been considering this; I was just so pleased with silence for a couple of days that I wanted to enjoy it.
That’s my rough outline for another week of bachelor-hood. I wasn’t looking forward to this one as much, since it had been a scant four months ago that I was left to fend for myself for 10 days; five days is amateur hour at this point. Plus, living in a house affords you so many more places to move, stack and throw things so you have free rein to make a bigger, better mess. I ran out of room in the apartment and had to actually clean things up.
I don’t think I’m boring yet, but I’m trending that way; hopefully this week will allow me to reconnect with the wild in some regards and become the man of misadventure I once was. Also, hopefully I can stay out of jail.