How Friendship Became Our Foundation

When my wife moved out, everyone said that I should get back out there. They told me that I would find someone in no time. I was a catch, they said. Who wouldn’t want to be with me?

It wasn’t that I couldn’t find another woman to date. The problem was that I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Being in a loveless marriage had been painful, exhausting, but mostly just inconvenient. While I was married, I had longed for my peace and quiet, and now that I had it, I wasn’t interested in giving it up again.

The only time that I ever felt lonely, actually, was on football Sundays. That had been one of the only interests that my ex-wife and I had shared. We rooted for rival teams, but that was part of the fun, at least in the beginning. We would put on our respective jerseys, put a bag of popcorn in the microwave, crack open some beers, and settle in.

By the time we divorced, we were watching the games in different rooms of the house. And I don’t know that I missed her. But I missed us. I missed watching the games in company.

Anyway, what does that have to do with a friend-based sugar relationship? Let me get there.

I was walking my dog, Pig, in the big park next to my house when I met Kate, who was walking her dog, Cowboy. The dogs, thankfully, got along great, instantly galloping off like old friends.

Now, this is a situation that plenty of antisocial dog owners dread: having to come up with small talk while your dogs engage in a canine wrestling match that could go on for who knows how long.

But with Kate, it was different. Talking to her was easy. When I told her my dog’s name, she kind of chuckled and asked, “Why Pig?”

I explained, a little bit bashfully, that it was short for “pigskin,” a name that we used to use for a football back in the day. I figured since Kate was significantly younger than I, she wouldn’t get the reference.

But her eyes lit up. “Small world,” she said. “Cowboy is named after the Dallas Cowboys. It was my dad’s team.”

Later, I would learn that she wasn’t speaking figuratively. Her dad had played two seasons with the Cowboys before sustaining an injury that took him out of the game for good.

Something in me, a feeling I hadn’t felt in decades, seemed to be bubbling to the surface. I think it was genuine interest. I hadn’t been interested in getting to know anyone new in so long.

“Do you often come here on Sunday mornings?” I asked, hoping that I didn’t come off as creepy. Luckily, she didn’t take it poorly and explained that she had moved in nearby recently and was planning on bringing Cowboy to the park early on Sundays, before going back to her place to watch the games.

“To be honest,” she said, “I’m kind of clueless about football. But, I’ve taken up a recent interest since my dad passed.”

“Well,” I suggested, trying to sound casual, “If you ever wanted to watch a game together, I could teach you some of the rules.”

And as easy as that, we had a connection.

At the beginning, Kate and I would meet at sports bars to watch a game or two. Even though it was less convenient than it would be to watch at home, we were still essentially strangers, and I didn’t want to scare her off. But, after a while, Kate made the suggestion that we watch at her place. I think maybe she was feeling a little bit weird about the fact that I always covered the bill, wouldn’t even let her see it. It’s not that I was trying to make a move or anything; it was honestly just how I had been raised.

When I asked if I had been making her feel uncomfortable by picking up the tab, she kind of shrugged but ultimately waved me off. She said she just felt more comfortable at home and would be happy to make some snacks. Plus, we would be able to watch with the dogs.

I asked her what I could bring, and she said, “Just your football facts.”

When I arrived, with a six-pack of her favorite beers and Pig, the first thing I noticed was that her apartment smelled amazing, as if I had just walked into a bakery. I asked her if she had secretly been a professional baker this whole time, and she shrugged humbly and said, “Actually, yeah.”

Turns out, she used to be a baker at a local cafe, but it had shut down during the pandemic. Since then, she had been working random temp jobs in offices around the city. Nothing that she really loved.

Eventually, she said, she’d like to work in a bakery again, but since the temp jobs paid so little, she was finding herself working a lot more just to pay for rent. Her dad’s care and medical bills had also been a huge strain. And in her free time, she was too exhausted to look for another job in a bakery.

“But enough of the pity party,” she said, “Let’s watch some football.”

We settled in to watch the game and had a great time as usual. The bread rolls that she made were the best I’ve ever had. And it made me laugh out loud when I saw that this time, Kate had a notebook and pen at the ready to jot down what she was learning.

“I was too embarrassed to do this in public,” she laughed and threw a piece of popcorn at me.

During halftime, we took the dogs around the block, and Kate seemed like she had something on her mind.

“Look,” she began, “I just wanted to clear something up because I feel like maybe we haven’t talked about this. But I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression by inviting you over to my house. I’m not in a place to be dating anyone, and—”

I cut her off by putting up my hand. “I’m glad you brought it up because I’m also not looking for anything here. I’m just happy to have someone to spend Sundays with. Uncomplicated, that’s what I want in my life right now.”

The air between us seemed instantly more friendly and relaxed. Even the dogs seemed to notice.

But, even though we had cleared up one thing, there was still something on my mind. It was what Kate had said about the bakery job. I had no idea that she was living paycheck to paycheck. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but even after the divorce, I was in a pretty comfortable situation, to put it lightly. To put it in clearer terms, I could probably have funded an entirely new bakery with a full staff and Kate as the head baker.

I knew, of course, that she wouldn’t go for that. She liked to do things on her own. She even apologized sometimes when I had to explain something about football twice. So, I knew I had to figure out a way to help her without making her feel uncomfortable.

I thought about it all week, and by Sunday, I felt like I had a good plan.

“Kate,” I told her. “I want to ask you a favor.”

So far, I hadn’t asked her for anything, so she looked a little nervous.

“I want to learn how to make bread,” I told her.

She relaxed instantly. “Of course! I’d be happy to teach you. Just show up a little earlier on Sundays, and we can do it together.”

“Okay, but I want to pay you. Before you say no, please listen to my whole pitch. I want to pay you enough to cover a shift at your temp job. And I want you to use that extra time to apply for jobs that you actually want to do. I know that baking good bread takes hours, so I’m not paying you for nothing. Consider it your first paid job back in the field.”

As I said all this, we were both facing the screen, watching the 49ers inch their way down the field. When I turned to see how Kate reacted to my offer, I could see that she was crying.

“And it won’t change this?” She asked. “I don’t want money to make things more complicated.”

I waved her off.

“Only if you’re a terrible teacher.”

Which, of course, she wasn’t.

By the time the next NFL season started, Kate was back working in a bakery. We kept our Sunday dates, even though she frequently had to miss the first few games to work the early shift, waking up at 4 am to knead dough and turn on the ovens.

Somehow, she always manages to make those bread rolls for us to enjoy while we watch the game, too. I know I’ve gained weight, and so has Pig. But, we’re happy. And so is Kate.