I always fantasized my future boyfriend/hubby to be a tall white (see "Dirty Asian" blog below) man who represented the typical American boy next door. Now, mind you, at twelve years old, requirements of a mate were purely superficial. Tall, primarily because my 4'9" (YES, 4'9"!) self needed to mesh genes with one who would give my offspring a better chance of growing beyond five feet tall. White, well..duh...like I said, refer to "Dirty Asian" blog. Typical boy next door to me back then was clean cut and good at sports.
Good at sports. I didn't want to be with a guy who was just a spectator next to me on the bleachers, or worse on the bench. I didn't want the responsibility of the standard after-game consolation, saying,"Well, maybe next time they'll let you play."
At the age of 24, I found myself marrying in complete defiance of that short little list I made so long ago. As infatuated with him as I was, it never even crossed my mind. Not until tonight, at a local volleyball tourney, did I remember it, and it made me smile.
My wonderful other half is a 5'6" Mexican, alright...but I did manage to snag an athlete! As short as he is, my hubbers managed to fly up above the regulation net and score some solid blocks on some pretty great spikes. And they weren't just the tip of the finger blocks, but more the solid tha-thump, forearms above the net, springing back lightly onto the floor blocks. It was grace in motion, I tell you. His team has advanced to tomorrow's next round.
And it's just not volleyball. My man can burn up a basketball court like no other. He's beaten everyone who's ever challenged him to one-on-one (no joke), even the big, black, baller types. Then there's raquetball, and ping pong (is that a sport), and softball...I can go on and on. He's got that natural athleticism, and it is so dang irresistable. I LOVE that I married a jock!
Good at sports. I didn't want to be with a guy who was just a spectator next to me on the bleachers, or worse on the bench. I didn't want the responsibility of the standard after-game consolation, saying,"Well, maybe next time they'll let you play."
At the age of 24, I found myself marrying in complete defiance of that short little list I made so long ago. As infatuated with him as I was, it never even crossed my mind. Not until tonight, at a local volleyball tourney, did I remember it, and it made me smile.
My wonderful other half is a 5'6" Mexican, alright...but I did manage to snag an athlete! As short as he is, my hubbers managed to fly up above the regulation net and score some solid blocks on some pretty great spikes. And they weren't just the tip of the finger blocks, but more the solid tha-thump, forearms above the net, springing back lightly onto the floor blocks. It was grace in motion, I tell you. His team has advanced to tomorrow's next round.
And it's just not volleyball. My man can burn up a basketball court like no other. He's beaten everyone who's ever challenged him to one-on-one (no joke), even the big, black, baller types. Then there's raquetball, and ping pong (is that a sport), and softball...I can go on and on. He's got that natural athleticism, and it is so dang irresistable. I LOVE that I married a jock!
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