My wife slept in unusually late this morning, and when the need to go and inquire about her wellbeing overtook my longing to finish the morning’s dishes, I found her sitting, eyes still full of sleep wearing a smile upon her face. My daughter was laying beside her, so logically, I thought I was bearing witness to a mother’s bliss as she beheld the beautiful visage of tiny fingers and toes, and cooing and drool.

Still smiling, Whitney looked at me. For a moment, I thought that she was not merely enamored with that little baby, but also with me. I am worth enamoring over. Years of bliss must have been rushing through her mind flashing vivid images of the happiness I have given her. Like a dam swelling from the weight of the water seeking freedom from restraint, my soul was succumbing to growing tides of joy knowing the life I had given Whitney was fulfilling her needs. All was right in the world.

I walked softly toward her. Her smile grew with each step. In my head, I thought, “I am the freaking man!” This woman. This single woman thought I was the only man in the world. To her, I was the center of the universe, a sun whose gravitational pull provided the order to her world she needed to survive. Arriving bedside, I lovingly rambled, “look at you, happy girl!” In response, Whitney smiled the coy grin of a teenager half her age who just got passed a note from a boy in class. When Whitney is really smiling, I mean smiling the kind of genuine smile that derives itself from sincere joy, her eyes bend upwards, hinging from the inner and ever so gently form a beautiful slant. She wore that kind of smile as she said the following words:

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson came to me last night. Oh, my lord Jesus, he was loving him some Whitney, and we weren’t getting it on either. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson was courting me. You see, Heath, I need to be courted. I need to be courted again by you. He said, ‘Girl, I don’t know up from down when I’m with you!’ And then, the best part, we played baseball together…It. Was. Awesome. I need to be courted like that.

There is something to be learned in all of this. Firstly, Whitney is an odd girl to court. Baseball and cliches? I can do that. And secondly, I need to look like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson to give Whitney all that bullshit happiness I described above at such length. Actually, I guess there is a third and most important lesson: The Rock is not welcome in my home starting today.

I got some baseball to play, I’m out.

I just wanted you to know, because I’ve been holding it in for years…

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Comments
  1. Latoya Whittington bouldin says:

    🙂

  2. baz says:

    Engrossing and heartfelt. Palpable jealousy.
    The romantic in me has to agree that courtship does not end with nuptials, and baseball does not end in the fall… Relationships, like baseball, are without the boundary of seasonal change. Inspired playing and courtship requires concentrated effort and never-ending devotion… lest one end up filling the proverbial rosters of randy and unkempt, drunken softball leagues.

    I think you have what it takes to play in the big show and taste what the Rock was cooking.
    Whitney should know the Rock is no Gordon Ramsey.

  3. Kevyn Bean says:

    LOL, this was an awesome read!

  4. Lauren says:

    The Rock?? Whitley and I need to have a long chat about what a sexy, brown man looks like. He ain’t it.

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