August 20, 2006: Football Widow
A new bride is often shocked and dismayed about many characteristics she discovers about her beloved after the wedding day. For some, it's those burps and what-not that men can be so proud of. For others it's the dirty socks balled up by the bed or that perennial toilet seat problem. My shocker didn't come that first year but rather crept in slowly. By year 3 of our marriage, I could no longer deny that my beloved had hidden a vital part of himself from me: he was, at heart, a football fanatic. An on-the-couch from Sunday noon to night and Monday 9 p.m.-1 a.m., yelling, jumping, shouting, snack-consuming football addict. It only got worse when we moved to Knoxville, and he added Saturday afternoon U.T. games to his regime. (And a lot of orange clothing, in which he actually looks really good.)
Grounds for an annulment, perhaps. But really, truly, we love the football weekends around here. We have lots of really good snack food, and the kids love to pile all around Daddy while he's watching and look forward to being tossed in the air with a Titans' touchdown. It's always great fun to have friends over and watch their reaction when they see mild-mannered Dr. H. shout forcefully at the TV. And I've learned to cultivate true sympathy when the Titans or the Vols lose. But don't ask me anything about football, please. As my beloved says, it's all about fashion for me. Why must they wear those hideous outfits, anyway?
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