Tripoli Tap, a bar on Armitage Avenue that is an all Boston bar, is decorated… (Nancy Stone/Chicago Tribune )
Every relationship has its challenges. Mine isn't perfect; Pat and I have had our share of fights in the nearly four years we've been together.
But this month is really going to test us. I can feel it in my gut.
See, Pat is from Massachusetts (which you may have guessed when I told you his name is Pat). You know, Massachusetts, where that, uh, other team is from. The team that rhymes with "ruin," as in "these Stanley Cup Finals are going to ruin our relationship."
Not that either of us is a die-hard fan—Pat is more of a baseball/football man than a hockey guy. Me, I love this dumb city with my whole heart, but I can barely tell a deke from a drop pass.
But DAMN, do we both want the bragging rights. So we've agreed to place a bet.
Aaaaand that's as far as it's gotten. For the life of me, I can't think of anything to bet. It's all too violent or too vanilla.
I proposed a slap bet a la "How I Met Your Mother," which Pat shot down on grounds that he didn't want to be a girlfriend-beater. Fair enough.
I'd ask him to shave his beard, but I couldn't reciprocate. Besides, who knows what could be lurking under there? I could make him sleep on the porch for a week, but spending a beautiful June night outdoors is hardly punishment.
We could bet a dinner, but we buy each other dinner all the time anyway. Boring. I could make him wear his Bruins sweatshirt at the Hawks victory parade, but I wouldn't want to put his life at risk.
And everything else is so terribly cheesy. A month's worth of dishwashing duty? A nice foot rub? That's some sitcom crap, right there. I think I saw that on an episode of "Yes, Dear."
So I need your help, Blackhawks fans. What can we bet on that's less than torture but more than "Leave it to Beaver"?
Get me your suggestions on Twitter at @crepeau. Remember, it has to be something that will really be meaningful when one of us loses. Uh, I mean, when he loses. Right?
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