“These guys need a support group.” 

I had just started dating my now wife, and we had moved beyond the honeymoon stage. 
See, in those early days, I had enjoyed the benefits of a fresh, new relationship. I got to shows and was given a comfy folding chair, asked what kind of beer I’d prefer, and sauntered to the ring just in time to watch her jump around some colored poles - blissfully unaware of just how much money she had dropped for that 86 seconds of glory. 

Then I began to be put to work. I became the runner, the videographer, the holder-of-all-the-things. 
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And I began to spot them. My fellow brethren. They were also loaded down with various items that they surely weren’t aware of the purpose.  They were also pulling out their credit cards as their daughter or wife or girlfriend hurried away with a prized piece of leather. They also were hot, sweaty, and a little exhausted from climbing up and down the mountains of emotions that come with those few minutes in the arena. 

I wasn’t alone. 

And neither are you.