Football Casualty

Q: My boyfriend is all into football and his favorite team lost today. Now he's all pissy. This has happened the past two years now. When his team badly, he's impossible to live with until they win again. He has even hit me once or twice when I've tried to talk him out of his mood. It's like this every fall—the rest of the year he's fine. What should I do?

Anne: Do you actually live with him? Because if so, maybe you should vacate the premises for the autumn. If not, call a hiatus for football season—maybe he'll get the hint that he's not fun to be around when he's acting juvenile.

Dee: Punt his ass down the field of broken relationships. Any man that raises his hand to a woman is an asshole. When he does it because his football game lost makes him a fucking asshole. And I don't care how great he is during the rest of the year. No need to try to make a pass or rush for a touchdown. He'll drop the ball every time. Call a foul and toss him out of the game.

Give Us a Break on Football

Q: Football season has just started and I'm already sick of it. My boyfriend is sitting there right now watching Michael Vick and the Eagles beat some other team. Thursday night it was Green Bay and New Orleans. On Monday it's Miami and someone else. Give me a break! Michael Vick shouldn't even be allowed to play pro ball anymore after what he did, and he's just one reason why men and boys shouldn't dedicate their lives to watching football. How can I stop having football on my TV every Sunday until January?

Anne: Every year we get letters from women who want their husbands or boyfriends to stop watching football. It's not going to happen. Find something else to do with your time—go to the movies or take up a craft or read (I can recommend a couple of great authors to you J ). Trying to keep football off the air is like trying to stop the day from dawning.

Dee: Believe me, I love thinking about men and balls, but I'm tired of telling women how to use sex to distract their significant others from football. If Michael Vick is more intriguing to your boyfriend than you are, too damn bad. Take your vibrator to the bedroom and work off some of your resentment. Then either join your guy on the couch and cheer on his favorite teams or find something else to do. You should at least enjoy the commercials—no show on TV has better commercials than football. It's only for a few months so for God's sake, stop whining. And that goes for the rest of your football widows out there.

Super Bowl Bickering

Q: I just finished watching the Super Bowl with my boyfriend of three months and he's ticked. Most women get into arguments with their men because they don't like sports. I got into it because I not only like it, I know more about it than Mark (boyfriend). I could explain the finer points of the game to him (and did, which was bad, right?), and won $10 because I chose Green Bay to win. What can I do to make Mark see that I may be a sports nut but I'm still a girl?

Anne: Let's see…the Super Bowl is football, right? I don't know much about sports (can you tell?). I've always used that to my advantage, however, by cuddling up to Jack and asking him to explain things to me. I've found that if you act in a way that reflects how you want others to see you, they usually do. Do something that lets Mark know that an interest in sports doesn't mean you're a jock.

Dee: Obviously to everyone except Mark the Dolt that you are all woman. Why else would you enjoy watching men touch each others' butts, hug and basically run around being hunky? You'd probably like a little towel snapping competition in the locker room, too. If Mark doesn't get it, then he's a weenie and maybe you should reconsider someone with so little self-confidence. Or maybe it's the $10 that has him pissed. Offer to buy him dinner with the winnings and see what he says.

The End of Football Season

Q: I wonder what most women do when their husband's are glued to the football playoffs. I shop online. What do you do?

Anne: Online shopping sounds fun but too expensive for me. I read. (Right now I'm reading The White Lady by Philippa Gregory.)

Dee: Watching big, healthy men fight it out on a field of battle gets my blood warm. I watch with Jack, scream and (especially) moan at all the appropriate times, touching, cuddling and tossing in a few wet kisses along the way. My nipples harden and my pussy twitches each time there's a pile-up—all those husky men on top of other husky men. Near the end of play I'm hot to go. Let's just say we don't watch the post-game analysis. It's cheaper than shopping, good aerobic exercise, and a lot more fun.

Football, Schmookball. It Can't Compete With Austen

From an e-mail sent moments ago:

Q: Hey, Anne and Dee. I bet my little brother $15 that the Jets would beat Indianapolis and that the Saints would beat the Vikings. Now the little fucker refuses to pay up. He's 24 years old. Don't you think he should stop acting like a child and pay what he owes?

Anne: Sorry, I didn't watch the games. Emma was on Masterpiece Theatre tonight. However, if you won, then your brother should pay what he owes.

Dee: You dumb shit, New York didn't beat Indianapolis. The Superbowl will be played between the Colts and the Saints. Keep up with the conversation.