Let me set the scene: me and my darling hubby, the Giants 2010 Championship, waltz into a snazzy restaurant to celebrate our one year anniversary. He’s wearing a Dolce & Gabbana suit and I have a beautiful, cream-colored dress from Oscar De La Renta, plus some awesome Louboutin heels.
We order our appetizers and begin to talk.
Me: Happy One Year Anniversary, honey!
Hubby: Happy Anniversary to you too, love!
Me: Can’t believe it’s been a whole year. I mean, remember the wedding?
Hubby: How could I forget? Biggest moment of my franchise history.
Me: Totally. That is, biggest moment of my life. I mean, I was so nervous, I nearly forgot my vows.
Hubby: Or what to say in the post-game press conference. I was all choked up. It was bad, but great at the same time.
Me: Uh-huh. And all my friends and family were super-supportive, which was awesome.
Hubby: Yeah, I mean I couldn’t have done this without my trainers and my family and the fan—
Me: Uh, yeah. Right. This is not your acceptance speech or anything, though, remember? It was a year ago. Already happened.
There is an awkward silence in which the waiter appears with a bottle of champagne. He pours it into the (very snazzy) glasses and leaves, after staring down his nose at our silence for a little while.
Me (laughing): Gotta say, though, I much prefer drinking champagne this way. As opposed to, you know, having it sprayed all over me.
Hubby (does not look amused- says coldly): Do you?
Me (laughing trailing off): Well, yes, actually. You might not understand that, being a Championship and all…
Hubby: Are you implying something about me?
Me: No! No! Not at all! Sit back down, hubby. Cool off. I was just saying that, you know, Championships have different preferences than humans as to how they drink their champagne. I don’t think that’s irrational of me or offensive or anything. It doesn’t make you worse than me or whatever. Just… different.
Hubby: Hmm. Alright. Fine. (At this point the Championship takes out his iPhone and begins texting.)
Me: (Rolls eyes and drums manicured fingernails on the white tablecloth.)
Hubby: Oh, honey? I think I have to get going. Some other anniversary celebrations to attend. You don’t mind, do you?
Hubby: Love you! See you next year!
(I drum my fingers a bit more, stare at him leaving the restaurant and then order up some garlic fries and reminisce on my own. That is, until the chef comes storming out of the kitchen, asking what I think I am implying about the restaurant by ordering garlic fries. I seem to be offending a lot of people today.
At last, I go home and reason that really, he is a Championship and I can’t hold him responsible for his non-socially-acceptable behavior.)
Happy anniversary, y’all!