Behind Closed Doors

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Dylan is unconscious splayed in bed next to me writhingly asleep trying to transcend his third day of jet lag and unwellness while I watch listening through headphones a football match: Olympique Lyonnais vs PSG. PSG after Real Madrid and Barcelona is fast becoming my favourite team because of Ángel Di María, Zlatan Ibrahimović, Edinson Cavani, Thiago Silva, and David Luiz. I’ve just opened an additional tab on Google with the search phrase, “Top 10 Most Handsome Soccer Players 2015,” and the first image to grace the page is a palatial black and white portrait of Cristiano Ronaldo reclining with great casualness all shirtless and seductive and staring the camera to the ground. I enjoy football because it is the beautiful game, but also because the players are international, attractive, talented, tanned, with interesting haircuts, and elaborate tattoos. Running around for 90 minutes all year in the heat makes you beautiful. Poor Dylan. The husband can hardly know what his wife gets up to “behind closed doors” after midnight while he’s comatose.


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