Somewhere in row D, possibly around seat numbers 540 -- or maybe even 730 -- it was kind of hard to tell given the sheer size and uniformity of the massive, yet stylishly organized arena. You almost lost yourself in it... You almost forgot who you were. So, wherever those anonymous faces where that night... Whichever seats they inhabited before they suddenly became famous on that night... There they were. They were famous. The magnificent pixels broadcasting above everyone, as if it were some machine created by some demi-God, now displayed the likes of their commonplace faces instead of those of the star-studded fitness-freaks below. Instead of the sweat, flexing muscles, and stylish athleticism, we caught sight of0two drab citizens who were merely there to take in the sights of the game. Or so it seemed. Or, well, in reality, they definitely were there for that. They, ultimately, did want to see the game. I mean, who wouldn't? Ticket prices soared high. Their seats were fabulous -- I mean, they weren't literally in row A; but, by God, they were doing pretty good, now, weren't they? Point is: they invested in this. They made sure that this was something that was worth the trip. Worth the time. Worth the ticket price. And... I suppose, secretly, worth the setting to get on one knee. To arrange that the screen operators knew where they were sitting (good for him to get those details so precise in such a large arena, by the way!). This was all a set up. There he was. Somehow managing to get this outrageous plan into fruition. He had an expensive jewel in his hand, and his body barely managed to stay erect in his kneeling position. Some people cooed at the romantic nostalgia of the move. Others were too preoccupied getting to the bathroom or the concession stand before the game continued. Hysterically enough, some people had to get by these two as their little moment was broadcast to any and all that were interested in seeing what she'd say...
SAMANTHA
Wow. I mean, I can't say that this is completely news to me. I kind of saw this coming. You're not really that great of a liar, to be honest. But, that's not really the point. I think the reason why I'm not just ... well, giving an answer right at the start here is because... Um... Well, I'm thinking the best way to say it is that... We all spend our times staring at our T.V. screens... And our computer screens. And those huge advertisements. You know, the ones on the highway -- but, also like the electronic ones. And the ones that are inside, too. And -- you know what I mean. All these like media outlets that tell us how life should be lived. These screens that try to give us meaning to our lives. These advertising campaigns that try to tell us what's best to wear, or what's best to believe, or what's best to aspire to in the future... All of these things that try to 'pull the strings' in our lives by telling us which people we should be like, which people we should hang out with, and what kinds of ideas we should expose ourselves to... By, of course, picking those role models, picking those friends, picking those ideas -- not with our best interests in mind -- mind you -- but with their best interests in mind. I mean, I'm no one to judge: we spent a TON of money to come here, and I'm kind of pissed to think that he might've lied about all of his little arguments about how we need to get away, and how we need to just splurge a little bit, and how we need to TREAT ourselves -- all of that shit was just a big ploy because he ... ANYWAY: it just boggles my mind that all of these people are watching someone like ... US on the big screen. Like, somehow, WE'RE being broadcast now. That never happens. Like, this is a huge, BIG TIME stadium... We shouldn't be looking at the grunge LOSERS who are going to get married, have kids, buy a house -- you know, all of that corny bullshit... No. That's not what you expect to see blaring above everyone at THIS stadium. That's unheard of. But, what we're supposed to be seeing... What's SUPPOSED to be looking down at us from up above -- telling us how to think, be, and look -- should be the likes of the people we paid to come see. The STARS of the show, right? Those athletes. The ones that arrogantly boast about their abilities. And try to pretend like throwing a ball around is somehow extremely noble... Those are the people that we should be. According to the media. But, according to our hearts -- I tell you -- according to our inner serves -- we would much rather be who-ever-the-hell we ARE. So, it's just so weird that like... My, conventionally-speaking, LOSER boyfriend would be getting so much attention and like -- I don't know, time "on-the-air," I guess... It's just completely fucking weird. I'm confused. Because I definitely like a good game, but I LOVE my husband. But, I wouldn't give a shit if I were at home. Like, why do I care about your self-expression and your... My point is... Maybe you don't have to be arrogant to be good. Maybe you don't need to be on the big screen to be someone to look up to. Maybe being someone who expressed their creative side -- who identified with their 'inner weirdo' -- regardless of how 'un-normal' it might be tot he masses -- MAYBE that's better than being in the spotlight. And, I think now that we're in the spotlight... I can't help but notice that.
Their neighbors were not happy about their little moment. The neighbors of their neighbors were even less pleased. Why hadn't they thought to propose to their date? Or renew their vows? Or some other bullshit? What makes them so 'normal' as to take this moment and make it seem so principled? So honorable? They were pissed. They didn't pay to be spoken down to. To be made a fool out of. They didn't appreciate it. But, somehow, even their loud cries could not overpower the overwhelming titanium overlord of a screen. It could not be overpowered. It could not be told who was worthy of attention. And, somehow, this disparity in the stadium had not gotten the attention of the screen-man. Perhaps he had slipped away from the control panel for a second to take a leak? Perhaps he was too busy texting someone back? Regardless, the screen remained fixated upon the couple. Nobody would blame the screen-man for expecting the 'normal' response: she'd say something along the lines of 'yes' or 'no' and we'd be able to watch the aftermath. Perhaps whatever he decided to go do wouldn't take any longer than that. Or, perhaps, he just didn't vie a shit. The stadium gave a shit, though. And they had had enough. Many signs went down, middle fingers going up. Cheers and boos sank to curse-outs and food being thrown. This wasn't good news for the couple, but she was going to make her point regardless of what you had planned. She was going to make sure you understood were she was coming from. She wasn't going to back down. This was a time for someone like her -- a miscast, a weirdo, a 'one-of-them' -- could say something and people had to pay attention. She was going to exploit it. She was going to milk it for everything it was. She wasn't going to devalue the moment she found herself in. She wasn't going to back down from the challenge. She was all game. And, she knew that everyone in the stadium had to come along in the ship with her regardless of what they wanted to do.
SAMANTHA
But, unlike THE BASKETBALL WIVES -- you know, the ladies who would've been on the other side of this whole parade, this whole production -- if they were the romantic interest of the STARS OF THE SHOW down there... I mean, I guess they went back to their locker rooms or whatever. Anyway: unlike them... Who, I'm sure would say yes -- because, Jesus Christ, those mother fuckers make a lot of money... But, that's not the point because -- well, let me just be clear, my boyfriend... He makes... That's... Okay, this is not what I was -- Point is... I can't say yes. I wish I could. Because that would be such a win for the supposed 'loser.' And, I hate to perpetuate the problem. This isn't high school. You're not a reject just because you wear all black, paint your face every once in a while, make an effort to create an identity a bit 'odd' compared to the 'normal' thing -- to be apart of the equation to make such a great person go back down into the dumps... Yeah, I hate to be that girl, but I'm going to have to be. I could marry one of those arrogant jerks and live in their mansions with no problem. I could fly around the world with them and cheer them on from the sidelines as they tried relentlessly to get the ball into the fuckin' hoop every night... But, I can't do the same with you, babe. You're like the wind. You need room to express. You need time to find yourself. To create and recreate yourself. I could easily be the trophy wife of a trophy husband and hide behind a beautiful facade of arrogance, perfection, and Hollywood-like... Pleasantville-like... But, with you, I cant... I just can't pretend like I don't know what you mean. Like I'm not personally affected by your struggles as a man who's trying to express that darker part of our souls. That inner weirdo. That inner eccentric. I can't be apart of anything that attempts to tame it. That attempts to quite it down. That attempts to make that flame shine any brighter than it ought to. You need room to grow. You're not some simpleton. You're not an idiot. You know you're not perfect. You know you don't need a big screen, a basketball, a catchphrase, or a big head to do your thing. And, that's exactly why I love you. And why I want to see you do what's best for you. SHINING as bright as you are -- regardless of the 'imagined' eclipse that these supposed "superstars" cast over you. I want you to win. And, you don't need me to win. I want to cheer you on. I want to be someone who can support you. I don't want to hold you back. And, while I certainly wouldn't be holding one of these 'SUPERSTARS' back by hitching with them -- I know that trying to put a leash on someone who's as free as the wind will have the opposite effect. You're better than this.. You're better than a slogan, a name, a score, a game... You don't need any of those things... You're not like them. This game will be nothing in a few years. But the way you make people feel... The way you remind people to be themselves... That's going to matter until the day we all die.