Victory?

We got an urgent call from Iran this morning from a dying relative. "Quick, turn on the TV!" he yelled (this is a man who has been bed-ridden with constant chemo therapy). We flipped on the satellite TV and turned to the Iranian channels. "The men's volleyball team is winning!!!!" he cried. Oh brother, I thought, let down. Here, I thought something important was happening. It was just the men's volleyball team winning. I didn't even know men played volleyball. Or that it was a world sport. I guess when all your other sports teams are banned from world competition, that's what you hold onto.

My mom--who knows absolutely nothing about sports--held the remote control in her hand and started tearing up. Seriously? Over volleyball? A sport she has no idea how to even play? Then she turned to me, totally off subject, "Do you have any friends?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, knowing exactly what she meant. "Of course I have friends."

She was silent. I took pity on her and continued, "You mean 'boys'? You mean, do I 'date'?" Never in a million years could my mom utter those two awful words.

"Yes," she said, the remote control still shaking in her hand.

"I do," I said. "But obviously nothing has lasted."

"What does that mean?" she asked. "How does that work?"

She was honestly curious, I could tell. She married the first man she ever kissed. "Well," I started, not knowing how to continue, slightly embarrassed, "You sort of go on a date and see if you like each other. And if you like each other, you keep seeing each other until you decide you don't like each other." That was the simple answer. "This usually lasts a few months for me," I added, so as not to simplify it too much.

"Are these proper men?" she asked.

I sighed. "Yes, they are 'proper' men. They have jobs. They're not homeless."

"Then I don't understand," she said.

I let it stay at that. Because, let's be honest: I don't understand either. We watched in silence as the men's volleyball team received a bouquet of flowers.