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How to cope when you're a Football widow.

Updated on January 31, 2014

Twice a year I'm banished to my bedroom, alone, confused, upset....why you might ask? Well it's transfer deadline day of course.

Every single time I speak to my partner on this oh so sacred of days, I get answered with "huh" "yeah" or "wah"? as his head's deeply buried in the tv.

And you might think oh it's only one day twice a year, you can give him that, but no my friends you would be wrong. Transfer deadline day has a one month build up, no you're not seeing things, one whole effing month, January and August.

So that's a total of 62 days of hell for us Transfer deadline day widows.

What genre of entertainment is this anyway? With its ticking clock and revolving cast of preternaturally excited desk-bound news-torsos, deadline day isn't exactly a straight news show, and neither is it a drama. It is perhaps closest to a pantomime. It's self-aware, dramatically overblown, but still attempting to thrill and inform.

Christmas used to fill my heart with joy until I met the love of my life, now it fills me with dread because as soon as it's all over it's like a football fiesta in the house.

I mean seriously, I could strip naked, do the Gangnam style dance past him and he would barely raise an eyebrow.

I use to be ok with watching it but he watches it so much that I cannot stand it anymore.

Transfer deadline day is only a part of the problem, there's endless games to suffer, some aren't played on TV so your partner then has to go to the pub to watch it, which can be a whole new ball game (pardon the pun)

It is hard being a football loather, a football unfan. I sometimes feel as lonely as the sole survivor in the last reel of a Zombie film
It is hard being a football loather, a football unfan. I sometimes feel as lonely as the sole survivor in the last reel of a Zombie film

Reasons I hate Football...

I hate its cry-baby players that go down like they have suffered an unspeakable injury, only to get up and start playing like nothings happened 3 seconds later.

I hate its gruff, joyless managers, its blokish supporters and its sinister owners, its whistle-peeping referees, its chippy little linesmen and its excitable commentators .

I hate its imbecilic chanting and its self-righteous saloon-bar expertise.

I hate its ersatz working-classness, especially now that the price of tickets compares unfavorably with Royal Ascot or Henley.

I have even begun to hate those pampered little kiddies the footballers are now obliged to escort on to the pitch before the start of each game, as though all set to embark on some kind of pervy waltz.

I hate its cheek, they have the audacity to kick my favourite soap out of its sacred God-given slot and banish it to some ridiculous hour of the night just because of a stupid football match.

I hate its financial drain on my family: Premier League football clubs change the design of their strips about 10 times a year. You won't get much change from £50 for a shirt. Your man HAS to go to the pub to watch the majority of matches or have beers for the ones he watches in the house.

I hate its two facedness: Why oh why does my partner have to watch every single god damned match there is. He doesn't support them all so why does he watch them? Why does he support Liverpool when we're from Cardiff? I just don't get it?

What is a Football widow?

The term football widow doesn't involve anyone's actual death but it does involve the loss of a loved one to football. The woman has to cope with the temporary death of her relationship during football games.

How to cope with being a Football widow...

  • Invest in a second television, because with all the satellite and cable stations there is an awful lot of football to be watched and the TV in the bedroom is where you'll be relegated to to watch your own choice of television.
  • Enjoy going out for lunch or shopping trips with family or friends on Saturdays because, lets face it, you'll always be free.
  • Arrange birthdays, parties, anniversaries and other family get togethers on Friday nights as they're usually football free (With the exception of the World Cup).
  • Don't panic if you see him tearful, head in hands and shouting expletives or things like 'Gutted' and 'Devastated'. It is unlikely he's killed the dog or received some bad news, it's probably just his team has lost a match, scored an own goal or have lost a game.
  • Remember to use plastic cups in case it has to be thrown at a wall or the television when said result is broadcast over and over again.
  • Use the opportunity to grab a bath or shower in peace, because lets face it, the bathroom's never private when your man's unoccupied!!
  • Box clever, your man will want to shut you up quickly if you interrupt his game, so always take the opportunity to nag your man to get him to agree to things he normally wouldn't.....new shoes? That DIY you need doing? A night out together? The world's your oyster.

Are you a transfer deadline day widow?

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