“Forfeits” he’d said, “We can play for forfeits. It’s not sport if you don’t play for something”. Quite why we couldn’t just play on the Wii-Fit, I didn’t understand, but I could tell he’d thought of something that had got him excited and was now curious to find out what it was. “Each of us writes down something for the loser to do, and we’ll play for that”.
It took an hour for me to win his mini-Olympic competition, and then grin like Alice in Wonderland’s Cheshire Cat as he read my single sentence instruction while I looked at what he’d written: “All afternoon doing household chores wearing only lingerie”.
So that was he’d wanted: a way to feel authoritative by getting me to dress up as some sort of fantasy housemaid to entertain him while he watched sport on the television. “Thought you’d put something like wash the cars, or clean the bathroom”, he’d said quietly while trying not to make eye-contact, “Something you could have got me to do anyway. Didn’t think I could lose really”.
He’d been right about me being able to get him to do things like wash, clean or DIY, which is why I’d not been able to think of anything specific, so had just written “Whatever you’ve put for me, you have to do it”.
He’s now upstairs going through my things, and I’m trying to control my laughter so that I don’t spill wine on the keyboard.