Wondering what impact a dishonest Prime Minister has had on the men of this country?
Well, a new poll has discovered that one in seven football fans loves their club more than their partner. Just one in seven, eh? That’s their story and they’re sticking to it. But the one in seven who was happy to admit it? Reader, I married him.
I’d never had a boyfriend who was even vaguely interested in football before, let alone a full-on, season ticket holding, superstitious to the point of needing to have cheese in his pocket at every match (long story), utterly devoted disciple.
There’s no doubt in my mind about who comes first in his life, as proved when he congratulated me for our baby’s due date being in the off season, meaning that he would be able to attend the birth. (NB I just checked with him that ‘the off season’ is the right way of phrasing that, by asking “What do you call it when they’re not playing?” His answer: “Hell.”)
The only benefit to his all-consuming dedication to Arsenal is that it probably means there won’t be an Other Woman who is a woman rather than a football club. He’s not that organised, and there aren’t enough hours in the day to juggle three of us.
In fairness, he has been with Arsenal much longer than he’s been with me – they’ve been in a deeply committed relationship since he was a kid.
What makes it slightly unfair is that I would never get away with treating him as badly as they do.
If I demanded as much as Arsenal does from him – the money, the time, the expensive chips – and then consistently disappointed him so he was actively heartbroken and depressed on a regular basis, he would surely divorce me.
From Arsenal he accepts it, and goes back for more every time. Maybe I’m runner-up in his affections because I’m too vanilla to replicate the sadomasochistic element to their relationship. I should be treating him mean to keep him keen, like they do.
It’s also difficult for him not to feel more warmly towards his club than me because I so actively go all out to sabotage them.
As every Gunners fan must know, the majority of their losses are completely my fault. Like the time they were ahead in a game that my husband was watching on telly at home, and I walked into the room and asked what the score was, and then the other team went on to win instead.
Needless to say, it was clearly me asking what the score was that totally jinxed Arsenal and directly caused them to lose. I’ll somehow have to live with that guilt for ever. He now has to watch all away games in the pub, because our living room is unlucky.
And I’ve now become so conditioned to being the second-place sister wife in this threesome that I don’t even mind. I’m just grateful he didn’t insist we move house.
