So Brian decided he’s going to continue playing racquetball with me despite his protestations yesterday. It may have had something to do with our post-racquetball conversation yesterday that went like this..
ME: If you hate racquetball so much then don’t play with me. It’s not like I force you to play.
BRIAN: I’ve told you numerous times that I don’t want to play and yet you make me anyway.
ME: If you don’t want to play racquetball with me, all you have to do is say so. I’ll find other people to play with. It’s just that it’s hard to find someone to play with because no one likes to play cut throat. They either want to play singles or doubles and we’re going to be one person short. If you’re going to be half-assed about it then I’d rather you didn’t play with me.
BRIAN: But if I don’t play with you, you’ll find some strapping, hot, young guy to play with and then you’ll leave me.
ME: That’s the idea.
I’m a horrible, horrible person – I know. LOL!
Just so you all know that I’m honest, I actually lost today. Which is why I’m sitting here blogging instead of still playing racquetball. At around eight o’clock, Brian and I were sitting at two wins each. He decides to bet me the last game that if he wins we quit playing and if I win we get to stay until nine o’clock.
He won the last game and so we had to cut the two-hour racquetball session that I had schedule short. But he only won because he hit my left boob with the racquetball and it hurt like a bitch.
ME: Son of a bitch! (as I grab my left breast to ease the pain; Brian thinks it’s hilarious and can’t stop laughing) Dude, it hurts! I may never be able to breast-feed. It’s not funny! I think it’s swollen! (Brian starts laughing even harder)
BRIAN: Enjoy it before it shrinks back to its regular size!
How can anyone concentrate on playing a serious game after that? That is BS! That is cheating. We’re supposed win based on our own physical, racquetball prowess. Psychological warfare isn’t allowed! Ugh. You can always count on Brian to cheat. He goes, “I’ll win however I can.”
And that’s fine. At least I’m not the one who’s shaving my balls.