Last night Ralf went to watch the big Spain-Germany game at a friend's house while I stayed home and watched Glee. He came home later looking pretty low.
Now let me just mention here that I haven't been following the World Cup at all. During the first week I had to keep asking which tournament it was again so Ralf took to sprinkling his public comments about the world cup with verbal cues for me so I wouldn't embarass him.
Eventually it sunk in. World Cup: check. Germany playing: check. German flags on cars everywhere: related to World Cup.
Generally speaking, I've been very supportive, even when Ralf watched some big game last Saturday instead of picking me up at the airport. And I bought trading cards for our daughters, who can name all the team captains.
Anyway, professional sports aren't really my thing but I wanted Germany to win. I mean, it's nice to see the Germans excited about something. Plus I like black uniforms.
So, as I was saying, Ralf came in looking pretty bummed and I'm very caring and empathic so I paused Glee and asked him who won.
Ralf (curtly): Spain.
Me: Well, they're nice. Who lost?
Ralf (in disgust): You're kidding, right?
Me: Um... Germany? Wait - does this mean Germany doesn't get to play in the final game?
No answer, just a head shake.
Me: Do you want to talk about it?
Ralf (struggling to find to find the right words): Not with you!
Me: What? I'm trying to be supportive.
Ralf (heading up the stairs): Don't try.
Me: You could have married a German, you know! Or a MAN!!
Ralf (morosely): I know. Good night.