Boy's Weekend.

Last weekend, I helped “celebrate” my buddy Dan’s 40th birthday by participating in a “boy’s weekend” event in Eastern Washington. I had been looking forward to this long weekend since last year’s party. I very much enjoy the excessive eating, drinking and swearing. In a life consisting of rather spotty occasions for all three, a little gluttony now and then is welcome. Not everyday, but once in a great while a solid bender is necessary for me. I believe that most, if not all, males need, on some level, a boy’s weekend now and then. We carry with us, deep in our filthy gene pool, desires for too much beer and too much bacon. Unburdened by the potential stink-eyes of our wives or the pleas of our kids to “play” something, we will indulge like starving men at the Royal Fork. Indulge we did.
We arrived Thursday night with a giddy, yet manly, enthusiasm. We played cards and drank beer. At some point during the various smack-talking between the fellas, a bet was made.
We were golfing on Friday. I am an average to way-below average golfer. My buddy, Shane, is a very good golfer. Besides being a good golfer, Shane is also an extremely gifted smack-talker. During our beer fueled exchange, he conceded 18 strokes to me. The bet was for bad mustaches; full, cookie dusting, seventies porn ‘staches to be held for two weeks. He already boasted a full goatee and I can grow a beard in two days, so the bet seemed fair. As it turned out, maybe it wasn’t. I beat him heads up, by one stroke. These words will no doubt burn his eyes, but they are true. Following our match, we headed home and he shaved. It may go down as one of the finest victories of my life and I could not help but smile every single time I looked at him throughout the weekend.
On Saturday, the gang played more cards and some horseshoes, ate nearly ten pounds of bacon, sat on the boat in the sun and consumed countless beers. In the evening, we had a poker tournament. Again, I am an average to way-below average poker player. I don’t really enjoy the game that much, but I’ll play if everyone else is. So I did. Amongst a litter of big talking, self-proclaimed poker “pros”, I won the tournament. There was much chagrin and a feeling that something was wrong with the world and a collective sense of “I got screwed” shared by everyone, except me, for a pleasant change.
Sunday, we woke to bloodshot eyes, more bacon and few beers as most of the boys were heading home. I reveled in my unprecedented good fortune and took a well-earned nap on the lawn in the shade. I was staying a couple more days. My kids were coming with Dan’s wife. They arrived in the evening and I hugged them a little more deeply. I took them swimming and made them food they actually wanted to eat. I had missed them. While I enjoyed the boy’s weekend decadence, it was an event, not a lifestyle for me. I have the lifestyle I want. I like taking my kids to soccer practice. I like waking them up and tucking them in. I like creating the experiences that are shaping them into what they will be and recognizing that they will be what they will independent of my efforts.
A self-indulgent, gluttonous weekend provided some contrast to my existing life and shone a light on the shaded areas that are sometimes overlooked as the grass over the fence starts to look pretty green. I am happy to say that I live in green pasture already and don’t need to do too much fence hopping, though I must also say that I do look forward to seeing Shane’s bad ‘stache in two weeks. It was a win for the ages.