Roller derby may have saved the soul of thousands of hard hitting chicks worldwide, but for those husbands and boyfriends left by the wayside it can potentially mean more nights of
Chef Boyardee, a television remote, and long heart to hearts with the family pet.
Hi. My name is
Bill and I'm a roller derby widower.
No, my wife isn't deceased. She's actually very much alive and doing quite well living as a
rollergirl, and I've learned that despite her best efforts to convince me of the contrary, I know that roller derby takes precedence over everything else in her life, bar none.
With the recent resurgence of women's roller derby across the world, we, the significant others of the queens of roller derby, are discovering something unique about the women in their lives: they'll ignore us for the sport they love just as much as we'll bypass any quality time with them because the
Carolina Panthers are playing the
New England Patriots on Monday Night Football.
Unlike us men, however, who can be found sitting around with a
case of beer, a bucket of hot wings, and a couple of gnarlly fat guys watching the big game on the tube wishing they were the star quarterback, the girls are out actually living their sport and dedicated to making it work. They are more than fans, they're the stars of their sport. They're passionately making the big hits, making the crowds cheer, and living the life of glory.
There was a time when it was her that wanted to spend more quality time together, and she'd have to practically beg just to have you ask about her day. Not anymore. Since she's joined roller derby and bonded with a whole new group of tough, independent minded women hellbent on roller derby domination, you'll be lucky if see her long enough to say hello.
So maybe us men just need to make efforts to do plan the relationship type things with their favorite girl, right? Dream on, because whatever getaway, night out, or nice romantic dinner you have planned (brought on by a likely near fatal overdose of canned ravioli) she'll say, "Can't tomorrow. Got Derby Practice."
Should you suggest postponing to any other night she'll just say, "No good. Derby fund raiser." And should to push it, expect a big helping of, "League meeting. Sorry."
Fine. Okay, so quiet romantic time might be out, but at least when you do get a few spare moments to talk, she still hangs on to your every word about your feats of pseudo modern day, macho, barbarism, right? Like when you'd boast about how you gave the finger to the guy who cut you off in traffic, the dumb ass at work who you got fired for no good reason, or how you almost got into a fight with a homeless guy because he peed on your tires?
Sorry to say, there's no point bringing it up any more.
Men's stories of modern rebellion are dull by comparison (because we are likely exaggerating to the point of making it up), and besides, we wouldn't get a word in edgewise anyway.
You see, the rollergirl in your life will regale you with their true tales of horrific violent feats at the latest bout, the scandalously outrageous things her team captain did to the opposing jammer as the clock winded down, and the number of bottles of hard liquor the team consumed at the after party. She'll have all the scrapes, bruises and broken limbs - all be uploaded to her Facebook page - to prove it.
At least, despite all that, there's always just going out and making yourself feel better by buying something stupid and expensive - a nifty electronic gadget, something kick-ass for the car, something manly - just for yourself, right? Nope. Don't expect that the family savings are there for your whims anymore. You'll learn quickly and in a matter-of-fact kind of way that the money you had earmarked for tickets to the Superbowl, mag wheels for the family SUV, or a ridiculously over-priced HDTV were spent on
new roller skates,
new indoor wheels, and lettering for her
helmet.
I'm afraid to say, fellow derby widowers, that you'll have little choice but to live with the fact that the tables are turned, and, as George Costanza learned on Seinfeld, you don't have "hand" anymore. She's got hand, fist and sometimes a stray elbow to the face.
The good news is that they aren't trying to exclude you. No, your roller wives and girlfriends will eagerly invite you into their roller derby world. In fact, you'll be tapped to attend every bout, every after party & fund raiser, and head out on road trips across the country. They aren't trying to shut you out, they simply found their niche, and they have no intention of giving it up. It's up to you to adapt.
Sure, your guy friends will think you're whipped for getting into the sport in an almost fanatical way (but they won't say it to your face because they know you'd unleash a team of no-holds-barred, roller girls on them) but it's either adapt, or spend countless nights trying to remember what the woman in your life look like.
What choice is left?
Hi. My name is Bill and I'm a roller derby
widower... I mean, supportive husband and big time roller derby fan.
Labels: editorial
