Friday, September 13, 2013

Wake Me for the Super Bowl

I've just lost my husband for the 13th time to another.

For the next 4 months, his complete, and sadly for me, undivided attention is on football. 


Not soccer.  Football.  American...Blasted....Football.

I remember being excited in elementary school about football.  But I was a cheerleader.  I didn't understand the game at all.  My attendance was required and led to a very flexible and fit body.

I was equally excited about football in high school.  I was dating a player.  I still didn't understand but went to games and cheered when everyone else did.  That was my contribution.

This evening, I have a nonstop tutor explaining the game, the comments, the pre and post coverage, the daily in-between game commentaries and interviews, and his feelings about them all.  Let me put that out here again.  ABOUT THEM ALL.

Our home becomes Miami Dolphins Central during the season.  I lose control of how the interior is decorated, what goes on our Christmas Tree, and what rugs are in our guest bathroom. Everyone who knows him gifts him with Dolphins memorabilia and I am guilty, as well.

When we were married, I saw this as a challenge.  I could a) fuss and distract him from the games, b) I could entertain myself taking the time to spend time with my friends and hobbies, or c) I could learn something about the game and join him cheering and yelling at the players as if they were in the room.

I chose option "c" and bought Football For Dummies.  I got through the 3rd page and gave up.  Hubby tried explaining.  I, being of average intelligence, picked up some of the lingo but lacked interest and moved on.

I tried the first option with miserable results.  I felt guilty making something he loves so much, so awful.   

That left Door Number Two. 

When we sit together in the evenings with men yelling at each other in suits on NFL Live, etc. I hear a voice in the room telling me WHY what they are saying is wrong, but I'm knitting or reading.  I smile or shake my head in understanding at the correct cues, ask an occasional question, and continue my projects.  He doesn't seem to mind...or notice. The best times I think for us both, is when I leave the house.  He's free to yell as much as the neighbors can stand and I spend time and/or money doing something I enjoy. 

I just can't work up the same enthusiasm for watching men run around making millions of dollars for playing a game! But that's another blog, entirely.

Now, some may think it dysfunctional that a husband and wife don't share this same interest.  I'm just thankful that this is his only hobby, besides learning Spanish.  He could be a fisherman, a hunter, or worse, a golfer! That's an expensive hobby!

When the games are on, if I'm in another room, I can count on him seeking me out for lovey-dovey time....until the commercials are off and the game's back on.  He could be in sports bars, chain-chewing buffalo wings with the guys but chooses to watch here at home.  He could be doing any number of things, legal or illegal, as men do. 

Given how hard he works, how he maintains the house, how he takes such good care of us, I have no valid complaint.  I want him to enjoy himself.  He deserves it.  Just don't expect me to take part in this particular sport.  We don't have to share everything to maintain our relationship.  As a couple, together but individuals, that's an impossibility.

There is a lesson in here somewhere for younger women, I think. 

If a man is 'ignoring' you for a sport but is there for you in every other way at every other time, what is the point in complaining?  I like to think I'm pretty good at my age at picking my battles.  Therefore, we don't have many.  It helps that Hubby reminds himself, like the comedian Ralphie May says, that he'd rather be happy than right.  And he chooses appropriately...most of the time.

For those women that love the sport, I applaud you.  I think it's wonderful that you can stay connected through it.  It's just like the make-up thing for me.  It's just not happening.

My one concession is the actual Super Bowl game.  It's the last game so I'm up for a celebration by then. I will sit through that and, for some reason, understand it.  Of course, I, like millions of others, am drawn by the television ads, too.  It proves, though, that I do have the attention span and ability to follow the game.  I simply choose not to.

And, thus, we have a happy marriage. 

With a red zone.  And a no-fuss zone.

Have a happy and blessed weekend (and enjoy the game)!   

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