Dammit! I've had it! I'm going to get to the bottom of this booster club crap. Marcie had just left for their quarterly meeting. As usual she had ravished me like a wild beast in heat for the last week and was bursting with excitement as she left. "Be home late Sunday. I'll try to call, but things are so crazy.... We'll see. I'll miss you. Love you." And gone. Something was rotten in Denmark as they say. And this weekend I was going to find out.
I'm sorry. I just sort of jumped in there and you're probably a little perplexed. Don't blame you. So let me back up.
I'm John. My wife is Marcie. Married six years, both in our late twenties, two girls age 5 and three. We were planning on the third, but Marcie put the plans on hold. Good jobs. Nice house and we even have plenty of debt and the obligatory golden retriever. We have sex a few times each week, mix it up and try new things. I thought it was satisfactory for both of us. I, for one, have no complaints. Both of our folks live close by so we have baby sitters for date nights, even weekends. I buy her flowers for no reason, remember all the critical dates like birthday, anniversary, Valentine's, etc. and make sure she likes the gifts I get her. She seemed happy, content, until a year ago.
Sorry, jumped ahead, again. There is one big difference between us: football. American football that is, not soccer. Heck, I like football. I played in high school. But I went to a small school for my business degree and MBA. I went to the games, but we got killed almost every Saturday. The goal was to see how little we could lose by. I graduated and didn't think much about it any more.
Marcie, on the other hand, went to State. Big school, always seemed to have a winning season. She was and still is an avid fan. It's about three hours away, so not too far, but easier to go and spend the night. We go to a number of the games, but the kids (and the dog) have kind of made things more complicated.
When I say Marcie is a fan... MARCIE IS A FAN! She has decals on her car, on our front door, a flag in the front yard, mugs with the team's logo, she knows who's on the team, all the stats, on and on. I'm ok with that. Whatever makes her happy. She's even a member of the booster club. It used to be a twice annual Saturday meeting. Informal get together for members and spouses in the mornings, organized lunch, meetings all afternoon, then dinner and dancing. We would drive up Saturday morning, she would go to the meeting while the rest of us found something to do and then have a fun time with everyone for the evening. We usually stayed overnight and tried to put some wear on the mattress since we were away from the kids. Sounds like fun, right?
But a year or so ago, Marcie became very upset. Membership was down, sponsors were down, donations were down and she felt something needed to be done. The something was that she became president, meetings became quarterly. Instead of Saturday, they became Saturday morning and Sunday which meant she had to leave Friday. She added executive meetings (pres., VP, secretary and treasurer) quarterly as well. So every six weeks or so she was gone.
She used to stay at the VP's house for the executive meetings. I went once. Nice guy. Nice wife. Nice family. The other guys were nice, too. They all lived near State. For the next meeting, though she rented a hotel room for Friday night because 'she was meeting with other boosters' before their Saturday exec. meeting.' Last time she rented a room for Friday and Saturday and came back dragging.
A year ago, she would come home from the semiannual meetings enthused, excited and ready to jump in the sack once the kids went to bed (early). But now she comes back completely exhausted and instead of having catch up sex, she usually begged off for several days or said she had just started her period. Horse crap. Somehow the meetings are never scheduled when it is that time of the month.
So, would you be suspicious? Would you worry about what was going on at the meetings? What would you do?
Well, I told her I was going to the last one. Instead of ravishing me, she seemed so nervous and anxious I was afraid we would have to get professional help. 'Nothing's wrong! I'm fine! Quit asking." I'm sure some of you folks have been there. So I quit asking. We drove down Friday evening, checked in, had dinner, and schmoozed with others that were there. On Saturday, we met for the informal mixer in the morning and then the boosters went to lunch with the official meeting at noon and smaller meetings until banquet time. I was roped into a golf outing with some of the boosters. Instead of going to a course close by, they selected one an hour away, then decided to have drinks, and somehow we got back just in time for the banquet.
Marcie was in the shower and looked like used goods. 'It was a just a tough meeting. Lots of tough decisions and heated discussions.' We went to dinner, she gave a speech, blah, blah. No dancing, all mixing and chit chat. I don't know about you, but I can only take so much before making small talk makes me want to barf. Worse yet, there were a number of innuendos and casual touches. Not bad touches, no grabbing, but just a little, too, personal. Too many kisses on the cheek as we said our good nights. I also noticed that most of the women steered clear. And she was just too worn out for any fooling around. 'Maybe tomorrow.' I kind of knew it wasn't going to happen tomorrow either and probably not the next few days if history repeated.
Sound fishy to you? I know, I know, you would have confronted her and had it out. Demanded the truth. Well, Marcie being Marcie would have simply gone on the offensive for accusing her of anything and what the hell was wrong with me anyway. Why was I trying to ruin a wonderful weekend for her. So I did what any red blooded American male would do. I didn't say a friggin' word and drove home in silence on Sunday while she dozed.
Monday came, the kids went crazy to see us, she was back to normal, but was going to stop by the drug store to get something 'for a yeast infection' (so, I'm sure sex is out for the rest of the week).
Though she thought things were back to normal and was all aglow about her weekend (membership donors, sponsors all up), I was not. My anger was growing along with my suspicions. Yes, I would try to act as normally as possible, but beneath the surface the storm clouds were building. I did not get much work done. I decided against monitoring her calls. She would be talking to boosters all the time normally. I decided against a GPS to keep tabs on her car. I would know if she disappeared for eight hours to meet with someone. I did get voice activated recording devices to hide in her car and place in our home office (no sense trying the kitchen or elsewhere. The kids would kill the battery in no time).
My biggest investment was one of those tiny cameras that I could clip to my shirt or name tag and hide under my shirt. I paid a lot more to get a high fidelity, good sound quality, long battery life, gigs of memory space, and easy to download to my computer. I tried it out. I loved it. This'll be great for the kids too. Hands free.
I did set up an appointment with a divorce attorney. Explained the situation and my plan to try and catch her in the act so to speak. He agreed to draw up the divorce papers, just in case. After all, I could be way off base (pretty sure I wasn't), gave me a list of to do's and to don'ts. I went to work on the to do's. i wasn't positive about all the to don'ts.
The other thing I did was send my money in and become a booster with 'all the perks and benefits that came along with it.' I lied about my name, opened a post office box and used that address, I lied about the school I went to (hint: it wasn't mine and it wasn't State, but I loved the team so much that I wanted to be a booster and get a discount on season tickets.)
Surprise! My application was accepted, I got my card, my badge, a sticker for my car, access to all the membership files and info online, and a personalized form letter from Marcie herself welcoming me to the boosters and inviting me to the next meeting. 'Make your hotel reservations early. Can't wait to meet you.' Life was good. I was a booster for State. Well, not really.
I set up a million text message lists to all the members, all the spouses, the members of the team, the coaches, managers, Chancellor of State, the Board of the university, and anyone else I could find. I duplicated this for the email lists, just in case. I'll admit, I was worn out. Then it was a waiting game. I decided against going to the executive meeting and waited for the quarterly. I wasn't going to tell Marcie. I was just going to show up. Isn't that fiendish?
I tried to be as normal as possible including in bed. As usual Marcie picked up the pace and her aggressiveness the week before the meeting. It was hell. Not really. By Friday, I was worn out. We had talked about me going with her again, but 'my Dad is sick so we can't take the kids there and your folks are going out of town again. I'm sorry, John, it would be so great to have you there. Everyone likes you so.' And so she left Friday after work.
