Monday, January 5, 2009

I'm a Bridge widow

Some wives are football widows, not me.  My husband plays bridge competitively.  Just this weekend he played bridge for 4 days.  (I know that's more than a weekend but they got to start early cause of the holiday.)

Playing weekly isn't enough for him.  He comes home and fires up the Mac and plays bridge online.  As practice.  For hours.

The man's been playing the game for years.  He made Life Master almost a decade ago.  He's been playing with the same partner for nearly 15 years.  They have their own bidding system that they're almost ready to publish after nearly a decade of tweaking.  He's taught the game, for goodness' sakes.  Just not to me.

I have neither the patience or the skill to play bridge with him.  He can not only count cards but can remember the entire play of a hand of bridge, or for that manner any card game.  What he played, what you played, what everyone played.  In order.  I do good to count trump.

His bidding system is so complicated that he's played tournaments with the Director practically at his side.  I always imagine a little old man in two inch thick glasses and suspenders when I think of tournament directors for bridge.  Or a little old lady with blue hair, eyeglasses on a chain and cigarette stains on her fingers.  But I digress.

What really chaps my ass about his bridge playing is his near obsession with it.  He recently discovered an online live tournament website that allows him to play with his bridge partner or random folks any time of the day or night.  For hours at a time.  This website is evil and needs to be shut down.

And I can't complain.  When I do, he's like, well, what do you want to do?  If I have no answer (and I rarely do) he's like then what's the problem?  He says he has to have some kind of stimulation or he'll go nuts.  TV is not enough.  It must involve higher brain function. Unless its sex.  But we won't go there.  That's another post.

I have a cycle.  I can go long periods without this bothering me.  Years, sometimes.  Most of the time, it's only mildly annoying.  It's like the annoyance buffer gets full and, until I reset, I'm one cranky bitch.

Guess where we are in the cycle.


Anonymous said...

Poor Mom. Read a book and shove it in his face that you can read the same book in a day that takes him a month.

Anonymous said...

I found myself immersed in it sister, it was mesmerizing from the start to the end.

I loved this piece ... Great Job, take two atta boys outta petty cash for a job well done.