The other night we got together with some friends to play tennis and eat pizza. Now, I am being liberal by saying ''PLAY''. There really isn't much playing going on unless you count the boys playing against each other.
In fact, for some reason, tennis is much like golfing between John and I. The patience lasts for about 15 min an then it's like "Ok honey wanna pick up your ball and put it with mine?" As if that's such a nice splendid idea he just had to RELIEVE me of the burden of my incompetent-ness and non athletic talent.
But actually what that translates to me is "Babe, I love you but you suck (bless your heart) and what I really wanna do is play some golf/tennis/basketball. And, believe it or not, even though this is 'you and I playing for fun', I really am going to be competitive and you're getting on my nerves with your 800th swing and miss. So please, let's pretend you're five years old and you can take a practice swing every so often while I REALLY play the game. Mmmmmmm-K sweetheart?''
I get it. I'm not good at Tennis (or golf) BUT...at least this time around we had John's hottie friend there who happens to be a college tennis player and MVP and who happens to have the patience of a woman and the arms of a greek god. He sat with us ''incompetent women'' and taught us how to play tennis.
And you know the funny thing? I actually learned a thing or two and GOT BETTER. Weird.
(I must add that John ALSO looked super hot playing tennis...)
Dinner of champions!
The famous lesson. Look how good we look! Aren't you impressed?!
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