a nice, healthy, post-break-up fist-pumpStill waiting anxiously to find out if Papelbon's duck recipe was edible.
Down the way from the fantasy trailer park where wifebeater-wearing Jason Varitek and Mike Timlin are raising up little Jon and Jonathan, in a -- how shall I put this -- slightly more gentrified part of town, is the condo where Derek and Alex live. Because sleeping over at someone's house five nights a week is what you do after you've claimed a drawer for your change of socks and underwear and right before your boyfriend breaks down and says you should probably just move in together.
(I imagine their courtship involved a lot of promising to give each other's Hall of Fame induction speeches, and then one night, Jetes said, in the sort of hushed whisper a child uses when he tells the nanny "I wish you were my real mom," Jetes said, "I wish there was some way you could play for the Yankees.")
But domestic bliss wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and everyone knows it never works when your long-distance girlfriend moves across country to be with you, and now Alex is staying in a seedy motel somewhere, and now he "doesn't sleep over," which means he probably shows up at the front door of the condo once every couple months, drunk on wine coolers, and they have bitter ex-sex and A-Rod goes home unfulfilled.
As the PM said to me last night: "STOP IT YOU ARE MAKING ME SAD THAT MY SWORN ENEMY AND HIS EVIL BUTTBOY AREN'T FRIENDS." Meanwhile, while one couple's love dies, another pair of star-crossed lovers find each other for the first time.
(Looking at that picture reminds me of my roommate when I lived in Vermont, who was named Sarah and had a girlfriend named Sarah, and each of them had an ex-girlfriend named ... Sarah.)