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My Fiance Loves Football More than Me

My fiancé loves football more than he loves me. No, really. He does. You probably think that I’m exaggerating. Or needy and attention-starved. Or jealous that he has an interest outside of me. Maybe you think I’m all of those. Well, you don’t know me, but I’m not.

By A. Footballwidow

My fiancé loves football more than he loves me. No, really. He does. You probably think that I’m exaggerating. Or needy and attention-starved. Or jealous that he has an interest outside of me. Maybe you think I’m all of those. Well, you don’t know me, but I’m not.

Honestly, my fiancé does love football more than me. And I’m okay with that. This is something that I’ve slowly come to accept after three football seasons together. The first season, admittedly, I was jealous. That was the year my birthday fell on the same day as the NFL draft, putting our plans “kind of on hold.” And yes, I was slightly annoyed the following season when he handed me a game schedule in March, a not-so-subtle hint that the advance notice excused him from future game-day commitments. Did I mention that he carries a self-laminated schedule in his wallet, but not a picture of me?

I know that I’ll never love football, but I do try to engage him. I know the name of his team’s quarterback and coach. (Although I think there may be a new coach since my fiancé fired the old one.) I’ve seen the training camp videos. I’ve heard the stories. Especially that one game where the temperature dropped to 50 degrees below zero and such-and-such team was 2 and 10 and…. Actually, I'm not quite sure how that story ends, so I'll leave it at that.

Football is my beloved’s first true love. It was in the picture long before I was, and they’ve gone through a lot together. Most of which I’ll never understand, nor do I want to. I’m happy to sit back and let them work it out. You’ve probably already guessed this but their relationship is pretty rocky. I’d even venture to say unhealthy, seeing that he puts so much into it and gets so little in return.

Why, you ask? His team hasn’t won a Super Bowl in his lifetime. And at this point it doesn’t look like they’ll be winning one anytime soon, as his team finished their season with one of the worst records in the NFL. The way I see it, if his team is the other woman, she’s doing him wrong. Way wrong.

So how does this prove that he loves football more than me? Well, for starters, he’s never been as obsessed with me as he is with his team. (This is a good thing.) He’s a great partner and very attentive, but if he was preoccupied with me the way he is with football, I’d start to worry.

On the flip side, I’ve never truly felt his wrath. (Another good thing.) Like any healthy couple, we’ve had our fair share of arguments, but he’s never been as angry with me as he has with his team. (Really.) Before we’d watched a game together, I didn’t know my then-boyfriend was capable of screaming. Especially not in that desperate, howling way that's similar to a child in the midst of a temper tantrum.

I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t compete with football. I don’t even want to. When that vein pops out of his neck after a bad play, I have to admit it, I feel smug. Hey, at least it isn’t popping out at me.

Plus, the enjoyment he derives from it makes me happy. On game day, he rises at daybreak and floats around the house in what can only be described as euphoria. Sometimes when we’re driving, his eyes will glaze over and his mouth will spread into a slow smile and I don't even have to ask what he's thinking about. Is it our wedding? The future we are planning together?

No. He’s thinking about the Cincinnati Bengals.

And like I said, I’m okay with that.