"How can you watch baseball on TV? It's so freaking boring," Elena muttered as she sat on the sofa beside me. It was a Wednesday night and I had invited her over to my apartment for some TV and tacos. Her long dark hair flowed freely over the shoulder as she reached across the coffee table toward the remote control.
" What are you doing?" I asked as she was about to flip the channel.
"I'm going to look for the football. Pre-season started." Her response irritated me.
"Pre-season?" I quipped getting annoyed at her changing the channel during the 7th inning of the Ranger's game.
"Calm down, Gabito. I'll put it back in a minute," Elena smirked, noticing I was becoming visibly upset. If it wasn't for her 36c's, I would have gladly found a reason to show her the door.
"You're the only boyfriend I've ever had that prefers baseball over football," she continued as she splashed open a cold can of Pepsi. At this, I couldn't help but roll me eyes. I was beginning to regret inviting her over to my place during such a crucial game with a divisional foe.
After witnessing my obvious discomfort, Elena finally changed the channel back to the Ranger's game. "There, you happy now?" she groaned. We sat quietly on the sofa watching the baseball game for a few minutes, but she quickly began to grow fidgety and impatient.
Elena finally suggested, "How bout we watch wrestling instead?"
"Wrestling? Really, Elena? What is this, 1989?" I asked incredulously.
She bursts out with laughter, no doubt recalling some Ultimate Warrior wrestling bit from back in the day. At this point, I can see that this relationship is going to have its bumps along the road.
Then, she looked at me with a serious face and uttered, "All you have to do is learn to watch football and wrestling and we can get along just fine."
I took the remote control from the coffee table and flipped the channel to the wrestling program.
"There," I told her, "we can get along just fine."
"She finally smiled at and placed her head on my shoulder. On TV, grown men acted like fools, bodily slammed each other, and yelled fabricated dialogue.
"The things I do for a fine pair of 36c's" I thought to myself. Maybe wrestling isn't so bad.
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