DH turned 50 last year and my lovely DS decided to treat him for his birthday. My son lives in San Francisco, so he flew I, DH and DD out there for my husband’s 50th. We stayed at his house for a week. It was the most wonderful holiday I’ve ever had. A week of absolute bliss. My sweet DS had been planning it for two years. The Bay Area is beautiful and vibrant beyond belief.
DS and DH are big basketball fans, and one night we went to watch an NBA game. DS had a special pass for the match, so we got to meet some of the players after the match. DH was as giddy as a kid at Christmas. Oh what a lovely experience that was! I’ll admit that when I was a teenager and a young woman, I was very vain; an absolute weak-in-the-knees sucker for athletic men. And the taller, the better. Basketball players are the epitome of tall and athletic. I had several photographs taken with the players. I’m 5’7, and the picture I had framed yesterday has me sandwiched between a player who is 6’7 and another who is 6’8. DD can’t stop laughing at the height disparity in the photograph – she says I look like I’m the players’ toddler daughter! I must say, watching those players play live and seeing their beautiful, gigantic bodies in the flesh ignited the old, young me.
Because of the time difference with the USA, DH doesn’t get to watch NBA matches live often. He usually records them and watches later. And now when he watches the recorded games, I like to annoy him in a playful manner by saying that I want to go on a date with whichever player I find sexy. He says I’m a pervert who likes young men.
Serge Ibaka - you'll be my DH in the next life!