My Kings husband and I were reunited at Steve Larson's wedding; we were friends in high school but haven't seen each other much since then. Even then, he was the biggest Kings fan I knew... things haven't changed much since then.
I admire his commitment to his team. To our team. At the wedding, we bonded over the fight to keep the Kings in Sacramento; a bond that is tough to explain and impossible to compare. We went through things that outsiders wouldn't understand; and no, I'm not being dramatic.
Anyway, The Kings had one nationally televised game this season and it was on a Friday, and we were going to break a world record for loudest indoor arena... so naturally I bought a plane ticket to fly in for the game.
When I told my husband about the plans, he offered me his extra season ticket. I'm not an idiot, so I of course obliged.
I flew in on Friday and met him at the arena. He was with a couple buddies who got tickets in a different section. We pounded a few beers in the parking lot and headed into the game. And then started drinking double Crown and Cokes. By the time we left the game, I was drunk. And not making smart decisions. (I'm going to throw in here that my husband admitted to "seeing" a Lakers fan. I was utterly shocked. Mostly because she is a Lakers fan. Partly because I don't want him to want to see anyone but me. But seriously, FUCK THE LAKERS.)
Anyways, back to bad decisions: I could have had this husband thing in the bag. We're holding hands, trying to figure out what bar we're going to go to so we can get even shittier. And then I run into Cole and Cowboy and think (because I'm making bad decisions) that it would be a great idea for all of us to drink together. So we go to their bar.
Things start out fine. In fact, things start out great. Everyone is getting along, there is no drama, and I am legitimately enjoying my time.
And then Cole's mom shows up.
Now, had I been sober... or at least not shit faced, I would have said hi and bye and that moment and left with my husband like he asked me to. But nope. I'm a glutton for punishment. So I stayed. Everyone else left. Everyone else was smart. I'm a masochist, apparently, and opted to face the bitch on my own.
After saying hello and giving me a hug, she started in her normal fashion of asking me a million unnecessary questions. About my parents, about my life... and then it started.
I've gained weight.
She hates my hair cut.
The nose ring was a bad choice.
My outfit? Who wears a Kings jersey in public... (especially at a bar... after a home game)
I managed to smile and tell her I didn't care what she thought.
She looked around and realized I no longer had friends around and asked the question of the night, "where are you sleeping tonight?"
Stone face.
"In your son's bed."
Smile.
She honestly didn't know what to say, and that's impressive for a woman who loves to hear herself talk. Cole stepped in at that point and stood up for me ("Mom, I love you, but I love her too and she's always going to be one of my best friends, so you're just going to have to get over this.") And then took me outside so I could breathe.
But that pretty much ruined the night for me.
I should have gone home with my Kings husband... it's probably my only regret of the year so far. (And that's not bad considering we just entered into December!)
I did get to stay with him on Sunday, though. I showed up and he was talking to the Laker girl (ugh) and quickly got off the phone with her. We went upstairs, smoked a bowl and went and got Mexican food (seriously, he already knows the key to my heart... and he paid.) Went back home, had a couple of beers, smoked some more and watched South Park and Aziz Ansari stand up.
And then cuddled all night long.
When we took me to the airport in the morning we decided I'd fly back to Sac for two more games in January- so I have another weekend coming up with him soon.
And I'm now crushing on my Kings Husband.
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