So, I joined a bowling league. A mere one week later, I have been asked to leave said league.
Just kidding. But it's only a matter of time.
Moms participate in morning bowling leagues as a kind of an escape.
You roll the ball, you grab a piece of coffee cake, you roll the ball, you introduce yourself to the opposing team, you roll the ball, you throw a mimosa down your neck (I had no idea alcohol at 9 a.m. was even going to be an option with these broads! Good on ya, mates!).
You roll a ball, you get deeper into chit-chat.
You find out that your opposing team is filled with moms of "older kids" who go to middle school and even high-school. You learn one even has a tenth grader who has a boyfriend that's a senior!
Holy shit! You think to yourself. That mom has some serious stuff to contend with.
And then you keep asking her questions because the mom is really cool and together and seems into it. I mean, come on, she has to be consumed by this in the same manner that you are consumed with your second grader starting piano again but multiplied by infinity. So you go ahead and ask what you know she is thinking about every second of every day:
"So do they have sex?"
As expected, Cool Mom doesn't miss a beat She tells you no and you believe her, and her tenth grader, and her tenth grader's senior boyfriend because again, the mom is really cool and together and tells you how she has sat BOTH of them down and talked to BOTH of them about it on more than one occasion.
"You mean you sat down with the boyfriend?" You ask.
"Yes." She says. "You have to! And the senior boyfriend says he's a virgin and he wants to stay a virgin." Cool Mom gives you the look like STAY A VIRGIN, MY ASS!
Holy shit again! You think to yourself.
You roll a few more balls, you grab another slice of that delicious homemade coffee cake, you think a little about Type 2 diabetes but you finish the cake, anyway. It's just too good to stop.
You think about another mimosa but you stop yourself because you have client work to do when you get home, you're driving, and you don't want to send yourself down lane #2 with the bowling ball.
You're eventually so consumed by chit-chat, you're not even thinking about what you're rolling and you suddenly realize you are somehow kicking bowling ass! You almost roll a TURKEY / three strikes in a row! You're thinking you can't wait to tell your husband you actually broke 100.
Then you're into your second game.
Cool Mom tells you Homecoming is coming up and the senior boyfriend KNOWS there will be ANOTHER sit down with BOTH of them prior to the dance or tenth grader can't go. Cool Mom tells you there's a big bus taking the whole big group of kid couples to Homecoming. This is Cool Mom we're talking about. She wasn't born yesterday. She knows what kinda shit goes down on the bus on Homecoming night.
At this point you're feeling pretty comfortable. You're basically all talking about an unwanted teenage pregnancy or some gnarly STD (the moms with the older kids brought up the STDs, by the way - NOT ME!).
"Chlamydia and Herpes are all over the place," Cool Mom tells you. "Our doctor said we should worry more about that than pregnancy. None of the teenagers are getting pregnant around here."
At this point, your head is reeling. All you can think about is blowing up poster-size images of Herpectic legions and plastering them to the ceiling and walls of your sons' rooms when they're in high school, then sprinkling condoms all over the house, in the living room on the sofa, in the cookie jar and the cereal boxes in the kitchen, in their room, in your room, everywhere. And you tell the other moms this because you're comfortable. Too comfortable. You've only known each other 90 minutes. They laugh. Ok, one mom looked a little scared but not Cool Mom.
Third and final game isn't long on chit-chat. You all need to go so you're all jumping back and forth from lane to lane, firing off your balls. Might be why you bowl like a 50 that round.
You all finish. Cool Mom is recording everyone's scores on a little score ledger paper. You check it out because you want to make a mental note of that first game score for bragging rights. You scan to the little box next to your name with the first game score. You see "77".
"77! Cool Mom, that's not right. I definitely got higher than 100." You tell her.
"That's what the board says. 77."
You turn and look at the board together, which you didn't even realize showed all of the totals at the end of league play.
"Ohhhhhh," she says. "177."
We turn back to the paper and she adds a "1".
"What're you trying to cheat me, Cool Mom? You're daughter is definitely having sex on Homecoming night."
As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you feel yourself raise your hands up to try to physically pull them back in but after 40 years of taking everything just a little too far, you know you can't. They're out. It's too late.
"Now that was mean!" Cool Mom was smiling when she said it but come on! You know she was thinking I hate this lanky coffee cake eating bitch with the second graders. Her day will come.
"I'm sorry! It was! She won't. Let me know what happens...it was nice meeting you!" You yell to her as she grabs her purse and walks out of the alley.
So, I'm thinking about getting a new bowling league together…anyone interested?
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