Happy Super Bowl Sunday, football fans.
I hope you have stocked your fridge full of adult beverages and caloric goodness because today is the day that millions of Americans bust out their gigantic televisions (some of them very recently purchased) to watch the two “best” teams in the league do battle for a gaudy ring.
I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of something to write about on this particular Sunday and while it would be very easy for me to sit here and talk about how upset I am that the Jets aren’t in the Super Bowl, the truth is that I got over that about 5 weeks ago. I cried tears, kicked rocks, and then eventually came around to a sane, re-grouped mental state that’s got me jazzed up about the Super Bowl.
I’ve moved on.
Lucky for me, the Internet is full of people that do and stay stupid things for me to comment on. And yesterday evening, the universe presented my writer’s block with a gift from a magical place called the Huffington Post.
A women published an article in the Wedding section on HuffingtonPost.com entitled, “Why I’m Making My Husband Miss the Super Bowl.” Naturally, you can imagine why I might want to click on this article. A woman actually is making her husband miss the Super Bowl? Wow, that’s pretty messed up. I feel bad for that dude.
But as unbelievable as it might sound, this woman’s story is actually eleventy billion times worse than the headline leads you to believe.
(If you don’t want to read my summary of her horrific article, then skip down a few paragraphs…)
This woman (Stacey is her name) is making her husband miss the Super Bowl so that they can attend an 8pm dinner reservation to celebrate their one year wedding anniversary. Stacey and her husband were married the day before last year’s Super Bowl which, as it turns out, was also a bit of an issue at the time but as she explains, she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of her special day (this already sounds like an episode of Bridezillas, the most amazing/awful show on television). And maybe having a wedding the day before, of, or after the Super Bowl isn’t a big deal for some dudes but it is for others. Oh, and there is also the fact that Stacey’s husband is a sports photographer. You kind of have to watch the Super Bowl if you work in sports.
Stacey realized that this “threat” to her anniversary celebration was getting serious when her husband’s beloved Houston Texans made it into the playoffs. So Stacey made a bet with her husband that if the Texans were not in it, she would get her special dinner wish and they would go to dinner during the Super Bowl. As a result of this bet, Stacey admits she rooted against her husband and for a team she didn’t even know the name of (that would be the Bengals and the Ravens, lady. It’s called the internet. Look it up. Your husband might appreciate it.) and got her way.
Don’t be too mad at her though. She makes a lot of sacrifices for her relationship, like agreeing to arrive at the restaurant early so that her husband could watch the first 90 minutes of the game, rubbing her husbands feet after a hard day at work or taking out the dog at 6:30 am to he can sleep.
If that wasn’t enough to already make you sick, it gets better….
Stacey is very happy to tell you that in her world, this is called compromise. After all, the first wedding anniversary is a special one (just ask Kim Kardashian, she says) and that both parties have done something to make the other happy. Oh. my. god.
Alright — enough. I can’t go on a second longer (and if you have made it this far without throwing up, you’re a better person than I am). This woman is nuts. Seriously nuts. And let me tell you why:
For the sake of argument let’s leave the Super Bowl element out of it for just one second (even though it’s Super Bowl Sunday and all). As a married woman (yes, I am married, so I can “relate”) this is a ridiculous thing to ask from a man who not only loves football, but earns a living taking photographs of sporting events.
Marriage is, indeed, about compromise but what this woman has done to her husband is not compromise. It’s needy, insecure manipulation and for what? An 8 pm dinner reservation?
You see, my husband loves football. But I happen to love it a lot more than him (I happen to love it more than a lot of guys I know). And yes, isn’t that great? It works out for us. But there are some things that we don’t like the same, for example, I don’t happen to understand the TV show “Myth Busters.” I feel rage inside my soul when that show comes on and I suspect it has something to do with the fact that while watching it, my husband falls into a trance of amazement and wonder watching explosions and science experiments. But that’s his thing, and when it’s on I peace out and do girly things like paint my nails. Or whatever. But I don’t bother him because THAT makes him happy. And he doesn’t bother me when I ask him to watch “The Help” (which, by the way, is a realllly good movie and isn’t what you might think).
Okay, fine — not apples to apples. But you see where I am going with this?
I could site about 8 zillion more examples -and a few of them might apply to this situation a lot better – but my point is WHO CARES? You are picking this battle on the day of your anniversary so you can go to dinner at the time you want to go. Forget everything else. That’s what’s important. (?)
Last I checked, “getting your way” is not compromise. But do you know what is a compromise? Celebrating the night before. Or going to an early dinner. Or a brunch. That’s compromise, chica.
As a married person, I can also tell you that an anniversary is just the day on the calendar (it’s what you do the other 364 days of the year that actually matter) and it’s not about strictly adhering to the actual day. Sure, it’s nice to honor the occasion, celebrate the milestone, and to remind each other what you mean to one another, but the best way to do that is not play a game of whose happiness is a bigger priority.
And frankly, the anniversary police don’t give a crap if you celebrate 24 hours earlier or later. It’s about the act of the celebration. This is something Stacey will probably grow to better understand after she has been married for a few years (if they make it that far) and I can’t bestow this wisdom upon someone I hardly know but once again, wrong battle.
And one last thing before I get to the football part (I PROMISE I will get there): the definition of sacrifice in the eyes of Miss Stacey is apparently taking out the dog at 6:30 am and rubbing your husband’s feet after a hard days work. Are you kidding me? Did take a ride in a DeLorean to the 1950′s? You’re married! That’s what married people do! That’s not sacrifice, that’s your JOB.
Okay, so about this whole football things…
It’s the Super Bowl, woman.
It’s not just a damn football game, it’s a cultural event. And it’s vital to your husband’s work. How do you not see this? This is not a day about women’s rights or taking control of your relationship (which you obviously don’t understand because you didn’t know that the Baltimore Ravens wear purple uniforms). Need I say more?
But more than that, I am completely disgusted at the insinuation that the Super Bowl is some day of torture for the entire female race. In fact, a whopping 44% of football fans are actually female so it seems to me that roughly half of the people watching the Super Bowl tonight will be WOMEN. And maybe not all of them are die hards like me (which is tottalllllly fine) and maybe, just maybe, some of them are watching the game with their husband because their husband is passionate about the game. And you know what? That’s cool. And THAT is sacrifice.
So please, ladies who maybe don’t like football all that much, learn a lesson from this woman’s error. Football and the Super Bowl are not part of an evil plot against you to take away your husband’s attention.
Maybe I’m extra sensitive because I am constantly complaining about how I wish that I could see people treat female sports fans as equal to male sports fans. I’m always being told I don’t know what I am talking about, or I don’t understand, and just when I think I’ve made a little progress, I have to read something like this (alongside a poll suggesting that women would prefer having sex over watching the Super Bowl). This gives women a bad name.
So, thank you Stacey. Thank you so much for setting back the female race 50 years with your article. I hope you enjoy your anniversary dinner and and I hope you hate every second of the 90 minute Super Bowl viewing time you have spaced out prior to your meal (and by the way, you should actually have allowed him to watch the latter half of the game because if you’re going to watch a half, it should be the second half. So much for “compromise.”).
I also really hope he enjoys the looks on the faces of all his friends when they read this article detailing how you have
made him your bitch (and not in a good way) successfully won a stupid selfish bet. Because I know that’s what I want from life : Knowing I have trained my husband to do what I say and want like a dog.
So check back with me in a few years and let me know how it’s going.
Gentleman (and ladies!!), enjoy the Super Bowl. And don’t do this to your spouse. Just. don’t.