I'm not exactly an obsessive person. I do things pretty moderately, all things considered. I'm not the kind of person that only likes one celebrity or team or song or genre exclusively and blindly.
My roommates, on the other hand, are pretty die-hard sports fans.
Last year, I survived a very long basketball season of them swearing and/or cheering at the TV, which happens to be against my bedroom wall. I used to check the season schedule and count down the games--Basketball season is SO LONG!
This year, I happened to begin joining them while they watched Celtics games.
I immediately recognized Ray Allen as Jesus from Spike Lee's He Got Game with Denzel Washington, which I have never seen.
(I die.)
And my roommates saw this as an in.
Apparently, he's one of the best three-point shooters in the NBA.
Who knew?
Anyway, several games later, once I began to appreciate the incredible hotness of some of the other players, I saw Ray (yes, I am on a first name basis; sometimes I even call him Walter) make an incredible shot.
Like, it was so good, I physically jumped up and screamed.
My roommates knew I was hooked.
Since then, I have watched games in public, alone on my couch, and even left evenings open so I could be sure to see them.
Tonight, Game 7 of the semi-finals is on, and I am so excited about my date with Ray (even though he hasn't quite been playing his best since his ankle injury earlier in the series).
Who have I become?
Anyway, my roommate and I were just texting about our respective plans to watch this evening.
***
Roommate: Oh yeah Celtics. Oh yeah.
Get it.
Me: I have a date with Ray and some hard cider and I am so excited.
Roommate: Enjoy your date with #20!
Me: Thanksssss.
Roommate: I'll enjoy my date with #34. (Those are approximate ages of the guys we date...hmmmmm.)
***
Damn.
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