A few nights ago one of my favourite television shows was pre-empted because of a college lacrosse match.

Disbelieving and furious, I simply stared at the television screen for a while.

"Don't these inconsiderate, money-hungry television networks realise that some of us DEPEND on the nightly television line-up in order to know what day of the week it is?" I asked the boy.

Luckily he had the good sense to catch on that this was a rhetorical question, so he just gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. I think he was tempted to offer the suggestion that if I didn't like it I could always change the channel, but his years of in the relationship training must've sparked a memory of an earlier lesson, because he wisely remained quiet instead.

And so we continued to stare at the lacrosse game for a little while longer.

It didn't even amuse me as it normally does to see a bunch of people running around whilst swatting at a ball (and, often, at other players) with something resembling a butterfly net fastened to the end of a long stick.

You see, until my arrival here in the States a few years ago, I had never even heard of lacrosse before. And that's rather remarkable, because as you'll recall (or not... the readers of that particular newspaper certainly don't want to remember. It's too traumatic for them!), some time in my youth I actually worked as a sports reporter (which is also remarkable, since I've never been able to grasp why on earth people would physically exert themselves for any reason. Now, with the gazillion dollar salaries some of the pro athletes make here in the States I KIND of get it, but I'd still advise them to rather stay on the couch and marry rich or just learn to require less of life) and during that time I thought I'd covered all the different sports in existence: from archery to zebra racing.

(Have I confused you enough with all of the asides in parentheses? No? Don't despair. This piece isn't over yet!)

Thus we continued to stare at the lacrosse game in silence. (Yes, our lives are just too exciting for words!)

Until I asked the boy: "Is lacrosse a preppy sport?"

"Yes, mostly."

"Why? I mean, the equipment used can't be all that expensive, and if it is, then people are just being ripped off. "

He shrugged, and in that moment I realised two things:

1) Whilst we had been staring at the television screen, the boy had become interested in the outcome of the match; and

2) A possible theory as to why a game like lacrosse appealed to the wealthier set.

I decided to share my logical reasoning with the boy.

"I know why! It's because of the sticks!"

He tore his eyes from the screen just to look at me blankly. Good, now I knew that he was at least pretending to be listening to me.

"Yes! I'm telling you! The sticks! Think about it: Tennis, polo, golf, lacrosse, badminton, squash. What do they all have in common?"

I didn't wait for an answer, because my women's intuition told me that I wasn't going to get one anyway.

"Sticks, balls and rich people. And do you know WHY?"

Another blank look.

"Come on!" I yelled, a little too excitedly. "It's clear as day!"

Another slightly puzzled look from the boy. The look that silently says what he won't ever dare asking out loud: "Woman, WHAT are you going on about?"

Of course, his silence only fuelled my enthusiasm even more, and in a barely contained frenzy, I screamed:

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