Yes my friends, the English Premiere League season began today. And my hubby has disappeared in a cloud of anticipation and giddy-schoolgirl excitement. He is down at an Irish Pub with friends watching the game as I type this. He left the house at 8:30 am to get down there. Isn't there something wrong with hitting the bar at 8:30 am.....on a Sunday? Oh dear. I have a whole season ahead of me.
A season filled with "don't touch my dvr, it's set for a game." and "you can't wear red today Becca, you'll jinx my team."
A season filled with endless facebook posts about Inter Milan, Benetiz and YNWA!!! And the sad thing is...most of his friends have no idea what he is posting about.
A season filled with very manly yells and screams coming from the man cave when Liverpool scores.
A season filled with me trying to be interested faking it in a conversation about the league.
And a season filled with me. Alone in the evenings. While hubby is upstairs watching a game. oh, boo-hoo right?? Nope, I love having a little tv time to myself....but shhhh don't tell him that.
I have written in the past about the obscene number of jerseys this man has. It has gotten worse.
the man has 18 soccer jerseys.
and 8. EIGHT. are from the same team.
new home jersey.
old away with stain on the front so I got a new away jersey.
And he is getting more from a friend who is on holiday in England this month!!
I mean seriously, how many jerseys does one guy need of the same thing????
I honestly thought this was a fleeting thing. This obsession with Liverpool soccer would be a flash in the pan and he'd move on to something else. But then he came home with this last Spring:
AWK!! What happens when he's over it????
Doesn't he know that it's permanent????
I want to bond with him over something he likes. I try to be interested in watching the game. This summer, I attempted to stay up-to-date with all the World Cup happenings. But I fail miserably. I just can't fake it. I understand the general concept of soccer but some of the rules confuse me (after 5 years, I still can't see when they are "off-sides"). And if I try to act like I know what I am talking about, he gets me every time.
So, I am resigned to the fact that I am a soccer widow. I can accept it. Hmm...now I just need to find my own thing to make him a widower......can I be obsessed with the spa?