I was planning to post the final installment of my Valentine’s Day horror stories today but on account of yesterday having been the sporting event of the year, I felt I ought to hold off and attempt to write something about the Superbowl.
Unfortunately I know absolutely nothing about football. I don’t understand the appeal, I don’t understand the scoring and I certainly don’t understand why the players seem to spend the majority of the game rolling around on the ground.
I’d hoped to find myself in possession of a football-loving boyfriend by now—not because I’m overly anxious to develop an actual understanding of the game (I’ve already been through this with European football) but because I’ve been dying to try my hand at a few of Rachel Ray’s tailgate recipes and a Superbowl party would provide the perfect motivation.
Nonetheless, there’s something to be said for being single on the Superbowl. Ten somethings, actually.
1) You don’t have to pretend that you care about the score, nor do you have to squander valuable brain cells on remembering which two teams are actually playing in the Superbowl.
2) You can pay more attention to the commercials than the game. (Wasn’t the one with pug and the Doritos fantastic?)
3) You can concentrate on giving yourself a manicure without worrying about missing the action.
4) You can pour yourself a martini once your nails are dry.
5) You can drink martinis without feeling stupid for not drinking beer.
6) You can spend game day bonding with your dad.
7) You can further bond with your dad by asking all sorts of important questions about the game (such as “Why are they wearing those stupid looking loincloth things between their legs?” and “Who’s been drinking my Godiva liquor?”)
8) You can pretend to be a sportscaster without the risk of embarrassing your boyfriend in front of his friends.
9) You don’t have to place bets on the outcome of the game. (The last time I placed a bet on the outcome of the Superbowl, I lost. The conditions were such that I had to give my then-boyfriend a full body massage complete with an ocean wave soundtrack of his choosing playing in the background. I don’t mind giving massages but the ocean CD made me want to slit my wrists.)
10) You can work out until it’s time for the Halftime Show. Not that I did—I was too busy drinking martinis and painting my nails to bother with my usual round of crunches—but I could have, had I wanted to, and if that’s not a good enough reason to hope I’ll be single for next year’s Superbowl too, I don’t know what is.