Rosie Labrun is a lot of things: a college student on the cusp of graduation; an intern for the Portland Pirates, a romance novel connoisseur; and the most recent addition to her resume...the girlfriend of a professional athlete.
She won't let it d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There are some moments in life that you never forget. Ones that change you to the core of who you are. Ones that make you wonder if things will ever be the same, if you'll ever be able to recover.
I've had few moments like this: when my teammate in the juniors crashed into the boards and couldn't stand up; and when I walked in on my coach screwing my mom while making the team photo on the wall behind him, vibrate. Stuff like that.
The next moment that happens like this, happens when I come home on Saturday night from our game against the Buffalo Sabres. The Sabres, an Eastern conference team, are one of the less followed ones in the league and usually attract a fan base that matches. And despite the fact that our attendance this season has been the best since the building opened, we still didn't get a full house - or even anything close to it, if I'm being honest.
"I'm just saying, there's no way Kadri isn't screwing the ref." Kayden proclaims, rattling off on his latest theory about why the officials are against him. Others include: him not allowing them to blow him, the refs being in a lovers squabble with one another; and them being somehow related to certain players. How all those theories exist, all at once? I'm not quite sure I want to know.
"Right. Whatever helps you sleep at night, man." I tell him, laughing to myself as I head into the kitchen. The low hum of the dishwasher plays in the background as he follows in behind me, and I wonder how long it'll be before we're out of here and living in our own place.
"I'm serious. Think about it." He insists, practically hanging off my back like one of those credit cards in a debt commercial as I slide Rosie's container of takeout into the fridge. I leave it right beside the container of baked goods that she snuck me home from work and may - or may not, snatch a couple brownies out of there.
I'm the only dude on the team that gets his significant other takeout every time we go out. Which yes, does get me roasted harder than a marshmallow being cooked by a ten year old.
I can't say I particularly care about what other people think; and quite frankly, I don't think me being pussy whipped by my best friend is the worst thing in the world.
If other guys want to be jealous because I get to go home to the love of my life, every night, then let them. I'll be too busy making love to her. Subtle flex? I think so.
"I think you're just mad because you spend more time in the box than on the ice." I retort, referencing Kayden's annoying playing style and the way it sometimes manages to get him on the wrong side of the officials. He's kind of like Gallagher - not the best skater, or tallest dude, but he's got heart and a way of getting under people's skin.
The result? More often than not, the other team gets irritated with his shit-stirring ways and tries to board him or punch him in the face. And as long as Kayden hasn't accused the officials of screwing "their mama", they end up in the box and he ends up with a cocky smile on his face for the whole way home.
