I don’t really know how to say this, so without going into unnecessary and complicated details involving jumbled cords and a step-down converter, I will just say that I, um… may have fried Bryan’s Xbox.
Although it happened yesterday afternoon, I waited until after we had finished eating a lovely little dinner to tell him. It wasn’t calculated on my part, in fact, I had forgotten. Because to me it was just a quirky anecdote, like “oh yeah honey, I am so spacey- you will never believe what I did with the grey cord today…”
Well, Bryan’s body went limp. His face went ashen. He rushed to the floor below the tv and in a crumpled heap, aimlessly moved wires around, with the futile but determined energy of someone rocking their dead dog. I froze. I mean, I have known this man almost nine years and this was a first for us. I stared at his back for ten minutes. Neither of us said a word. The only sound to interrupt the sounds of wires and boxes being moved was this slow and deliberate statement that I heard even with his back turned: “Yael. You are so careless sometimes.”
He used my first name.
And although he will never admit it, I am almost sure that at some point during the ten-long-minutes-of-silence-standoff-with-his-back-to-me, I saw Bryan’s body slightly quiver and I do think for one moment a tear might have escaped his eye. I mean, he did that guy thing where he sniffed real loud like it’s just a cold, but I really think this may be the second time in my life of knowing him he has cried. Not on our wedding day. Only with the impending realization that he may be delayed in playing Call of Duty.
That’s what I like about men. They save crying for the important things. Like the Rangers soccer fans from Glasgow Wednesday night in Manchester who, after 20,000 of them couldn’t get tickets to the sold-out UEFA cup final match, came to watch the game beamed onto huge television screens erected in a center part of the city. When the tv screens stopped working before kick-off, the Scottish fans began to riot. Police were beaten, women were beaten, a man was stabbed…
But the best part? Men getting in touch with their emotions. On all the news stations last night there were just men bawling, bawling, sobbing, crying, inconsolable, incoherent, out of breath and suffocating on their own waterworks. Why, oh why, oh whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy is there no tv I can watch the game on????? Whyyyyyyyyyy g-d? Whyyyyyyyyyy would you do this to meeeeeeeeeeeeee? Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Sniffle.