Dear Sugar pie honey chocolaty,
I chose you over all of those that came because I was convinced about the love we shared – indeed our love was love. Maybe I didn’t deserve someone as good as you, I don’t know. A perfect complement, you have been to me and I am not going to let anybody or anything steal my chances with you.
We have had our own deal of the lovey-dovey and I am happy about that. All those our “Obudu lounging”, “Sheraton balling” and “Miami chilling” are moments I will treasure till the end of time but…
… Something is about to come between us. It is not just going to be a contending rival but now it has grown strong enough to break us apart.
It is simple; I need to let you know that your game has come between us. Before your mind runs wild wondering if I’m having doubts on your fidelity, no need to worry, it’s simple, the game I am referring to here is Football.
I mean my words so take me for it. Your passion for football is about to come between us. I knew you were an Arsenal fan from the first day I met you wearing a customised jersey in front of a viewing centre at Lekki. I remember your first question to me; what have you come to do at the viewing centre? As though it was a strange sight to find ladies that watch football. My response to you was that I needed to collect something from my brother watching the same game you were watching. I remember I told you I wasn’t one of those ladies who watched football to the point of going out to watch with their boyfriends. Yes, I can tolerate a Super-Eagles game for the sake of national patriotism, but what the hell is my business in a foreign football club.
I fell in love with you. I heard Arsenal fans are good lovers, you haven’t disproved the statement. I married you, I was so happy to be close to you, so excited to have you as my confidant, comforter, my friend and my lover. All these have been good but you need to watch your back because your unbridled love for the game has overshadowed your love for me and is gradually coming between us.
Any day, there is a match, you tell me not to serve your dinner till the end of the match and you know what dinner means to me. It is the only family bonding meal of the day for us due to our busy schedule. You also know I don’t eat later than 8 pm and I hate to eat without you. However, on days when you have an evening match, I am left with the only option of eating dinner lonely. For games that your team loses it’s usually a worse outcome – you skip dinner, telling me “the boys spoilt your mood”. You ignore all the efforts I put into cooking as if that didn’t matter.
In the evening when I want to share my thoughts with you or narrate the tale of my daily experience, your game still comes between us. No matter how trivial my talks are, I just want to share with someone that cares and is ready to listen – all a lady wants. But, you have divided attention because you are either reading pages of Complete Sports or keeping up with Goals.com. There are nights you are “just not in the mood” because “those boys” disappointed you.
You know much I love soap operas and you come home to tell me there is this all important game you must watch and as it has turned out, all games are all important. Most of the games sometimes coincide with when Tinsel is being aired. You know how I hate to miss any episode of this drama series. I get angry, we argue, and I give it up to you, throwing the TV remote at you. Anytime I do this, I expect you to run after me to apologise rather than sit to watch the game as if you aren’t concerned about me. We have quarrelled over this so many times. You keep telling that the quest for the championship has just gotten hotter…I don’t care to know.
You know I like to host your friends on Sundays, having to cook varieties of meal. However, I no longer enjoy this ritual because of your game. Over the table, rather than appreciating me as the cook, you and your friends start talking about football. You do this as if the assurance of the good meal that is being laid in front of you inspires you towards the topic. Oh dear, everyone likes to be recognised. I can’t continue to cook for people who start endless arguments that don’t concern them. The way they talk about the game annoys me. They talk as if they were the manager of the club discussing what deal was worth it, who should be signed among other issues.
I stand on my feet to say all these must stop and I can’t watch your game come between us. I will rather ask you to choose between me and your game than watch my love go down the drain.
I’m gradually losing the battle to have you and before I lose the war of keeping myself sane, perhaps I’ll have to walk away, far enough never to come between you and the game.