This afternoon I found myself watching football, without Matt around. Matt was still sleeping off what I can only imagine was a ridiculously late night of work and I was downstairs. I made the conscious decision to turn on the football game. What is wrong with me?

I used to hate football. I mean, HATE HATE HATE! football. I spent every single Friday home game night in high school sitting in the stands of the football game going on in front of me. I never ever cared. I hated that I had to go every Friday, but I was there for the marching band (well, in the marching band) and I was surrounded by my best friends. It was more of a looking for cute guys and talking about the rest of the weekend (that is if the marching band wasn’t going to take it up).

My mother and my step-father had football dinners every Sunday since I can remember. Dinner is at noon, the football game starts at 1 and dessert is during halftime. There were always people at our house for this, usually about 10 or so. I hated it. I would have dinner and then hide in my room the rest of the day. I hated football.

Now? I know a little bit about it and I ask questions. It’s so weird. I never ever imagined I would willingly watch football and actually skip Grey’s Anatomy on Thursday nights lately to watch whichever crap game is on. Matt’s really done a number on me, I guess.

Related posts:

1. RAWR: The Biggest Game of the Season
2. What-zillas?
3. Baseball is for Girls, too
4. I Ruined Christmas … Already
5. Must Have Been the Ribs