Love in the Time of Quarterbacks

So if you watch football, or have opened your eyes near a T.V or newspaper today, you know that the 42nd Super Bowl is going to entail the “Underdog” Giants knocking the socks (no pun intended) off the un-defeated New England Patriots. Unfortunately, I can’t be 100% exuberant. This morning, I received this email from my friend about yesterday’s game:

“what a win. Congratulations. But I cannot believe now
that you have the sum of all fears super bowl contest
with your boyfriend now!”

Sum of All Fears. Sounds….ominous. One minute, I’m looking forward to the best Super Bowl Party EVER (if that phrase is not optimized so help me god) and the next minute, I’m accepting the impending single-hood I’ll face when my die-hard New English Significant Other comes to see my innocent face as a grim, perpetual reminder of the unexpected failure of his home region. (Ok, so my face won’t be innocent, it will be gloating. But still.)

It seems tragic that after everything we’ve faced, like his first meeting with my brother, or my brother’s visit to the office last week, or stalking my brother on facebook together, that it has to end like this.

How can I be sure this will go down?

1) During yesterday’s Patriots game, I casually mused, “I wonder if Giselle is there?” The Sig Oth turned to me and rather pointedly replied, “She’s not. I bet Tom doesn’t even want her there. I guarantee you, he’d choose football over Giselle any day.” Now, I may be 5’11” and have hair that is a totally unidentifiable color, but I am no Giselle. I quite perceptively interpreted his remark to mean: I will shun you from my life forever when your team beats mine.

2) Even if he doesn’t shun me, his Sports-obsessed roommate isn’t going to let me back in the apartment.

I have to admit, at one point we were on the phone and he said, “I want you to know that if the Giants win, I’ll be happy for you.” However, this was after Tynes missed the field goal that sent the game into overtime. I think we can all agree it doesn’t count, and actually borders on trash-talking. I should probably break up with him over that comment alone, but I’m going to give myself two more weeks of bliss before I hit the dating scene once more.

And by “bliss”, I mean borderline-antagonistic behavior along the lines of this post.


3 thoughts on “Love in the Time of Quarterbacks

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