K and I went to trivia last night. While I was a tri-delta, living the life at Carolina (or something like it), K was on the Collegiate Trivia team. Yeah, our collegiate experiences were dramatically different (or, I like to pretend that they were – we won’t get into my mock trial championship). He takes trivia very seriously… we went a few weeks ago and when we came in fourth – I thought he might cry.
Well, not cry – but there was major pouting going on.
We came in third the first game, and K was having such a good time we ended up staying for a second game. We were in second place during the second game, until a simple question stumped K: what was the first antibiotic? I knew it was penicillin, but K was convinced it was “sulfa drugs.” Then, he had to be Mr. Smartypants and go with “mercury” because it was used to treat syphilis. (sidenote: I really hope I don’t get weird googlers from this post). Yeah, the answer was penicillin, but K called bullshit. Loudly. Immediately, this other team looked at our table for the telltale bottles of beer and/or cocktails that such an outburst would have caused.
There were none. K gets feisty about trivia and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. We didn’t win. I think we came in seventh. Pitiful.
Still one of the best nights out in a while. I love our little town. We walk to dinner, take an extra block home and hold hands in front of the Presbyterian Church (don’t ask me why). I know I’ve whined about it before, but our first few years of marriage wasn’t worth writing home about. We barely made it.
I am so glad we did. I am so glad I didn’t give up – that he didn’t give up.