When I first noticed my fiancé, I did not anticipate a lot of things. I say "noticed," because we did not meet. Not exactly. I saw him from across the room. I don't know why, but I remember he wore a red shirt, which is strange because he doesn't like the color red.
At the time I first noticed him, he had an odd haircut and no mustache. I assumed he was quite a bit younger than me and also much too nice to bother with.
Sometime after I noticed him, I heard someone call him by name. I tagged along to a birthday drink thing he happened to be at and found out he was dating a friend of mine. After breaking up with that friend, he started to hang out with my roommate a lot. He still had no mustache. But he did have a cool leather jacket. That made him more interesting. In a James Dean/Marlon Brando sort of way. Just change out the motorcycle for a bicycle.
Anyway, we got together eventually (thanks in great part to the mustache that he is now forbidden to shave off). I discovered that I had him pegged completely wrong. Not only was he not too nice, only 5 months my junior, and nothing like James Dean or Marlon Brando, he was one of the first people I had ever encountered that I didn't want to stop talking to.
Anyway, thanks to Seth, I give a damn about hockey. I never thought I would fall in love with a sport I didn't grow up watching or a team from a city I've never been to. And it's genuine. Between the speed, the brutality, and the precise skill it takes to move that little disk of rubber, the thrill is irresistible. On top of that, you have the players themselves- characters all of them. Fierce, yet funny. Lumbering, yet agile. Burly, toothless, scarred, bruised, bandaged, and bloodied warriors- on ice skates! How cute is that?
Yesterday's victory was a significant one. You may not understand or care. That's okay. I just felt I had to mention it. The sun rises and sets by the Pittsburgh Penguins in my house. I can't not mention it on so momentous an occasion.