football-inspired brilliance on my part

I have come up with the solution for my relationship problems. Are you ready for this? It’s totally brilliant. I don’t think you’re ready for this level of brilliance, but I’m going to tell you anyway:

 I need to marry a football player.

See how perfect that would be?

This isn’t because I think football players are universally hot, although a few of them (ahem, peytonmanning, torreysmith) are fun to ogle. In fact, I mostly think they’re quite average looking aside from the fact that many of them are a bit on the big and scary side. But then, so am I (average looking, that is—I strive never to fall into the big-and-scary category if I can help it).

No, the thing that would be perfect about a football player is that he wouldn’t be around half the time, right? I’m not entirely sure about how it works, but it seems like their schedules involve negligible amounts of time off and lots of time on the road. Thus, I would never get sick of being around my football player, because he would be around so infrequently. (And I’d probably get free tickets to a lot of games too!).

My main problem with relationships is that I almost always get irrationally annoyed by anyone whose presence I must tolerate for extended periods of time (aka, any guy I have ever dated or even awkwardly sort of dated but not officially).

Also, I’m horrifyingly non-romantic, and I can’t help thinking that football players just don’t seem like the lovey dovey type.

ALSO, I always knew they make lots of money, but I’ve recently found out just how much money football players make, and it is (to be very exact) a crap ton. If I were married to a football player, I could afford to ride horses again. Not that I would ever marry someone just so I could ride horses. Probably.

There is, of course, the obvious drawback that playing football is an exceptionally dangerous profession, but I’m not the worrying type. Plus I’ve had four concussions, broken both arms and some ribs, dislocated my shoulder upwards of a dozen times, and received multiple broken toes—so who am I to judge somebody for participating in dangerous sports? At least they MAKE money doing it.

So, somebody just needs to set me up with an NFL player, ‘kay? Please and thank you.

Anyway, I obviously have football on my mind right now because I’ve been rather interested in the outcome of the playoff games these past few weeks, and, just in case you’ve been living in a hole (or maybe just not within 20 minutes of Baltimore City*), I need to register my extreme excitement that MY BOYS ARE FREAKING GOING TO THE FREAKING SUPER BOWL!!!

I’m going to make nachos for the occasion. I don’t care how non-paleo they are. This level of excitement warrants the most genuine football food I can possibly muster.

On another note, I made coconut-milk ice cream for the game yesterday, and it was fantastic. You should try it. I put dark chocolate chips and blueberries on top of mine. 


*Though I am not a bandwagoner, and I was a Ravens fan even when I lived in PA, just to be clear.


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