Maya Angelou once wrote “I know why the caged bird sings”. She’s ok but I tend to lean more towards Ghostface Killah to give me inspiration.
“Ran by Duracell, the only man to walk through hell with his dick swinging like shit went well” -You tell em, Ghost!
I feel like I don’t need context to unpack the sentiment in M.Angie’s words, not today. Know what hell is? Hell is the interim between Game of Thrones and Football. That sad space where Sundays mean actually having to think about where your life is going and why there’s so much goddamn McDonald’s wrappers and half-filled cups of alcohol in your car. But not today. Today I write with a smile on my face because on Sunday I will be neck deep in wings and scotch, watching the game I love undisturbed.
However, there are some of you with Wives, girlfriends and lovers who need to put the smack down and let them know what is expected of them during this holy season (editor’s note: please do not literally put the smack down on your partner). Once again I have been appointed by your men to inform you of the 9 Commandments of football (for women).
The Big TV is mine
Every household usually has the big and the little TV. The little TV is the 32inch annoyance your girlfriend made you buy as some weird metaphorical representation of herself compared to the larger 52inch piece of heaven downstairs that represents you…or feelings or some shit. Who knows/cares? No one has ever enjoyed watching the game on anything smaller than a 52 inch and that’s fact, tt’s inhuman almost. Ladies, you had the big TV most of the year, we didn’t argue. ‘Member when we cuddled up and watched the full season of Orange is the New Black and I didn’t say shit?
“Oh look ‘Crazy Eyes’ is doing something crazy again this season….that’s new” – said the suicidal boyfriend.
Ya, well I need you to go upstairs and watch the new season so I can enjoy football the way it’s supposed to be enjoyed: in 1080p. You don’t need to watch the Say Yes to the Dress marathon on anything bigger than 27 inches. That’s literally what those TVs were made for.
Madam please understand that your boyfriend loved you before football season started. Chances are he got with you during the offseason anyway because who looks for a relationship during regular season? That’s just crazy talk. He loved you then and he loves you now. So please, there’s no need to pretend you’re interested in “the football” because that is really annoying. Just chill. We both know you don’t know shit about football nor do you care. I’m dating you for your vagina and morals or whatever I told you when I got drunk and decided “we” were a good idea. Not for your football knowledge. If I wanted to date someone with football knowledge I’d just go be gay.
…not this gay. But you know what I mean.
No need to act like you give a shit, we’re good. Yes THIS is the one time I want you to go talk to your mom or play Candy Strike or whatever it is you do on your phone when you’re mad at me and I’m pretending I care. And if you’re texting your side dude then that’s fine as well…we can deal with that after Superbowl. Also ask him if he’s in a fantasy league as I have space in mine.
Don’t Overdo It
Now, if you are genuinely a pseudo fan, have a team you always pulled for (7-10yr minimum) and have some knowledge and want to learn more then there’s a seat at the table for you. Just please don’t overdo it. We have no problem explaining the extra details to you but when you start over cheering or barking out senseless stats or information you googled in the bathroom then I need you to know you look like a ditz. I’ll answer whatever questions you have but trust we’ll know if your passion is genuine. And when its not? That’s when break ups happen.
“No one is a Raiders fan, DIana. Pack your shit and get the hell out!!”
I’m glad that you’re interested and I’ll support you getting as into it as I am just as long as you realize I don’t need you every Sunday dressed from head to toe in Colts gear screaming at everyone like a mental patient.
No Sharing of Food
Man cannot live on bread alone,…..but he can for sure eat alone. Ladies, we endured your “I’ll just eat off your plate because calories” bullshit for months. Enough now. If we go to the bar to watch the game you order your food and I’ll order mine. I’m not sharing. There is no hate as strong as when you know you had 2 mozzarella sticks left with the exact amount of dip needed for both, only to realize your girl has eaten one of them and over dipped. The resulting bloodlust in our souls is immeasurable.
“Goddamn it, Becka put the wing down its not yours!”
I’ll pay, just order whatever. Get the lobster, get some grilled unicorn I don’t care. Just keep your entitled little hands to yourself so we both don’t end up in the newspaper in the morning.
Diets Don’t Exist
Yes I know we were supposed to do the cabbage and manure cleanse your friend did who lost 2 lbs. she thinks…
“2lbs my ass!”
I promise to be healthy for the rest of the week. But its Sunday now and no, just no. I’ve seen men get mocked for drinking light beer at the function let alone a carrot stick and you want me to take my “diet water” to the bar to keep up with our “plan”? No. During football season Sundays don’t count. The same way when its Christmas women say fuck it and eat and drink everything is the same way we are during football. And by the way, if your boyfriend told you he walked into a bar full of men and had the salad he’s lying and you’re a scorpion woman for even asking if he did. Shame on you.
Entertain yourself (bring a friend)
Listen I get it: You don’t wanna be at home all Sunday while your man is out having fun without you. I’m not an advocate for men who can’t take their girl with them to watch a game or two. I enjoy having my girl with me sometimes just because I love her and she’s something pretty to look at during commercials. However, Honeybear, invite your girl. And not just any girl, bring the “slutty one” who isn’t really your friend but you’re cool enough to chill out with each other.
No woman wants to sit amongst 10-20 guys grunting, making sexist jokes and wreaking of liquor and failed marriages. You need that person you can talk to while I’m doing my thing. Plus, the slutty friend usually dresses accordingly so she’ll distract the 10-20 guys from looking at YOUR girl.
“Its not that you’re not pretty, babe. Its just she has on a shirt bra so….”
See how that works? Just don’t bring the super intelligent, pro-black, vegan, feminist chick. I pretend to enjoy her Mon-Sat but today is not the day to discuss how independent she is and what her cats are up to. That’s what Wednesdays are for.
Pick your Spots
Ladies I understand that between Mon-Sun shit happens. Men tend to fuck up a lot just being men let alone during football season.
He’s gonna wipe that on something you love probably
No arguments there. But this is the one time we want you to address that shit the day of. If I mess up Friday please can we discuss it Saturday? I don’t need the 48hr layover until Sunday when you cut the game off because “we need to talk”. I think some women do it on purpose to test you but that shit is selfish. Let me try “we need to talk” during Scandal or Empire, I wouldn’t hear the end of that. And the irony is you can stream that shit anytime you want. I can’t. Please pick your spots. Whatever conversation doesn’t happen before 1pm Sunday doesn’t need to happen until 7am the next morning. Call your mom or that friend who hates me anyway, knock yourself out. But the Colts are playing, we can discuss how I crushed your dreams after the 4th quarter.
Let me trash talk
If you’re gonna come watch football with me at the bar you need to understand you’re going to hear some shit. This information is very important for couples who haven’t been together that long and haven’t survived a full season of football together. Oh I know he’s a gentleman and so polite around friends and family. But the Dolphins are losing by 6 on the opponents 10 yard line, Tannehill got the ball and just threw an interception.
This picture is applicable to every Dolphins season of my adult life
Yes I know I just called a man I don’t know a “bitch made fuckstick” and told him to eat a dick. I know you’re scared. Relax, this is men. When you’ve just talked shit about another man’s team for 2 hours and your team loses, you tend to say some things you really wouldn’t say to another human outside of that situation. And these are total strangers by the way, I never met this man. But let it go.
Your boyfriend knows how far to take it and is quite aware of the economic status of the man he’s arguing with. Your dude is not going to curse out some dude he thinks just got out of prison with nothing to lose. No, he’ll buy that man a drink. But he will definitely say unkind things about the mother of the lawyer with 3 kids, a mortgage and car payments. You curse that nigga the fuck out because he, much like you, doesn’t want to go to jail. Trust your man and let him talk his shit.
Respect his Superbowl
The reason its “his” Superbowl is because all men are different. Some Superbowls I don’t care because my team isn’t playing and no team I care about is, so I get drunk and enjoy. The last time my team played was against my boy Joe’s team. Joe, my girl and I got some chicken, drank some scotch, sat down quietly and watched that game like we were in a convent. It just depends on who your guy is. Just respect it.
When his team is in the Superbowl he may need to stay the hell home so he can deal with his feelings or he may need to be amongst the fray. Ask him softly what he wants to do 2 weeks before and abide accordingly. This is a special time and should be treated with grace and respect. Do what you can to make him comfortable, grin and bear it. Women get like 8 “Season finales” a year…we get one. He wants the little pizza bites things you make with spinach dip and enough wings to feed a small village? Allow him that. If we can endure your (loud) phone calls to your friends about (insert ratchet reality show here) finale then you can endure his for a day. And this works out in your favor because when you want to have your girls over for said finale(s), he can’t say shit but serve drinks and order pizza/lava cake for you and your squad. Small victories, ladies.
And when the season is done and the winners collect their rings, I will look out to the sun in anticipation of another season…and I will know why the caged bird sings.