Monday, 24 April 2006

A footballing Saturday

J likes Liverpool. A lot.

And, of course, I'm talking 'bout the Gerrard-led squad that brought the trophy home from Istanbul last year, rather than that Northern town which houses it.
Show me more close-ups of Alonso, and I shall take a greater interest in Liverpool...
My friend, who in a curiously parallel situation to mine is married to a depressive Man United fan (is there a link between football and depression, I ask), said that you have a choice of two scenarios.

  1. Be annoyed everytime the team plays (which is OFTEN, especially with them doing so well in the FA cup etc)
  2. Take an interest; realise you can't beat'em so you might as well join'em.
Personally, she said she'd opted for the the former.

"I can't say I feel his pain when they lose, exactly," she said. "But I do kind of enjoy it if they win."

And, seeing it as her approach has successfully lead to marriage, I've gone down the same route.

On Saturday, J, his best friend, his best friend's wife (who also opted for a), and got married; again I ask, is there a link?) and I enjoyed the FA cup semi-final, and I have to say that regardless of me not feeling very strongly for Liverpool, it's always a pleasure to see Chelsea beaten.

And, as usual, they did that thing with scoring as soon as I wasn't looking.

Then we had a lovely Sunday-style roast dinner and did some karaoke singing afterwards. It was a lovely day, actually.

I think I've achieved that perfect balance; it pleases me when Liverpool do well, but I don't really care when they don't.

Which brings me to the following very spot-on forward about this issue:



From her to her best friend:

"We went out for a meal in the evening, and the whole time he was really quitet. When I asked him what was wrong, he said it was nothing, but he ate hardly anything and I could tell something wasn't right. However, I put it down to him not liking the restaurant, but not wanting to tell me since I picked it.

But in the car home, he was still in a really bad mood. He didn't talk the whole way from the supermarket and to our flat, and when we got there, he plonked himself right in front of the TV, and completely ignored me.

I decided to go to bed early, and he followed about 45 minutes later. We made love, but it still wasn't right. His mind seemed to be elsewhere. I am convinced he's seeing someone else, and cried myself to sleep. I don't know what to do.

From him to his best friend:

"Lost badly at football, but fortunately got laid in the evening."


Take that to heart, sisters.


  1. Oh that is so true.

    Sometimes when you get to the heart of the matter it's often much ado about nothing.:(

  2. I can relate so much it's frightening.


Thanks for not just lurking..

Peer Review Section