So this weekend there’s a football game. My fabulous Big 10 school — which usually sucks in football but is now having a semi-decent season — is playing another Big 10 school. We’re coming off a big win last weekend against our rival. It’ll be a good game. Or a complete blowout. Nothing in between.
Months and months ago, DD bought tickets to the game for himself and his friend, George*, who’s an alumni of the other school. I really could’ve cared less — 9 times out of 10, I’m not a big football fan. Sure, I’ll watch the game if I can, sure I’ll take a ticket if you offer, but I’m by no means a die hard. Especially when November hits and it just gets downright cold in Michigan.
But then, all of DD’s friends and fellow alums planned a semi-last-minute tailgate. None of them are going to the game, but they’re all waking up at the ass crack of dawn to drive to campus and tailgate. People are coming in from out of town for this show. And it’s actually supposed to be a semi-nice day. (Read: Not below zero temps.)
When these plans started to take shape a few weeks ago, DD offered to try to get me an extra ticket to the game — maybe see if George wanted to invite his gal and make it a date. But I guess George doesn’t want to do that; he wants it to be a guy thing.
Which I totally get. That was its original purpose, after all.
Except, well, except now this thing has turned into so much more than a guy thing that a couple people were planning to go to. It’s turned into an all-day tailgate extravaganza to which I’m now invited. But if I go, I’ll be left with DD’s friends while he goes to the game. And I’m just not sure how I feel about that.
See, I’m not *just* a tailgater. I know, I know, that’s not very Big 10 of me. Big 10ers are known for their tailgating prowess. We get up before dawn, party all day at the game, and then go out to the bars after the game’s over. We drive from miles around to tailgate and could give a shit if we go to the game. “Tired” and “Bored” are not words in a Big 10 tailgater’s vocabulary.
But they are words in mine. And if I’m going to get up at the ass crack of dawn and drive 2 hours somewhere after being out all night the night before, I’d better be getting more than a cheap hot dog and some spinach dip out of the deal. I’d better be going to the game.
While I get George’s original hope for boy time, I’m just kind of frustrated that now that plans have changed, we weren’t able to fit me into the plan for the game. I guess I’m just feeling left out. Sure I’m being included in the overall plans, but in the plans that specifically include DD — the person who I’m closest to in this whole group? I’m being left in the dust. There’s even a part of me that thinks DD doesn’t want me to go because he doesn’t want to have to actually leave me behind when he runs off for the aforementioned boy time.
So, I could just not go. Which would be good for my mental (and probably physical — no over-drinking and over-eating) health. But I hate feeling like a party pooper. And I do like DD’s friends and it would be fun to see them. And I obviously want to spend as much time as I can with DD, even if that is just a couple hours before he (unintentionally) ditches me. I know he feels bad about the situation, and the way it all worked out, and it’s not his fault. But still. Frus.Trated.
Right now, I’m leaning toward staying home. But in 5 minutes, my mind could be changed. This sounds like an excellent moment to break out the new poll widget that WordPress provides.
Ed. Note: This seemed like a perfect time to try out the new poll widget, but it’s being a little bitch and not working. And I don’t have the patience for that. So, leave it in the comments — I like comments better, anyway!
To tailgate or not to tailgate?
*Names have been changed to protect the people who don’t know I write about them and therefore aren’t consenting adults. Let’s also pray they don’t read this and figure out it’s about them, because I don’t want anyone to misunderstand my Internet rants.