New relationships are all about fluttering butterflies in your tummy when the phone rings, hearts fit to burst with chest thumping excitement when he reaches to hold your hand, not knowing how many kisses to put at the end of a text message. New relationships are full of romance! And thrills!
Face facts. New relationships are full of lies.
“Oh my GOD. Like, Belle and Sebastian are only my favourite band EVER!” (never heard of them)
“You travelled around the world for a year? That’s so cool! Yeah, yeah, me too. I travelled as well. I travelled round Thailand for like, 4 months” (it was 6 weeks) “totally slummed it” (of course I didn’t).
“Oh yeah! I LOVE Rugby! Yeah! Let’s go!” were words frequently out of my mouth when my cool handsome new boyfriend Smudge suggested we go watch a game.
In the cold.
“Er, yeah!” I’d say, rolling my eyes at him, all like, didn’t he realise he was talking to a devout uber fan of all things sporty? All I needed was a spotlight to shine down from the heavens and onto my (lying) head to illuminate me, the perfect girl of his dreams. “Girls like Rugby too you know! Who gives a shit that it’s snowing and I only have this unlined lightweight Zara woollen coat!” I’d say, eyeing up his thick woollen manly jumper, already in my head claiming girlfriend rights on it because I’d look all cute and little and attractive to him in it.
Yes I know, manipulative and oh-so-pathetically-girlie. But man up, that’s how women can be, ok? Did it work? *Holds up left hand and points to the diamond on her ruby ring finger*
“Hell YEAH I’ll drink cider from a plastic cup! IT’S ONLY LIKE MY FAVOURITE WAY TO DRINK! I mean, why wouldn’t people drink booze from plastic?!”
Lies, lies and MORE lies.
Well, maybe not purposeful, bad lies. Let’s think more along the lines of, a dash of impulse, perhaps a big spoonful of infatuation, a massive dollop of
“I mega fancy you”
and then, you know, all that cooked in a big oven of flirting and iced like a big fat Victoria Sponge in LIES.
The truth was, as you have already guessed, I didn’t love rugby. It’s outdoors and it’s held during the WINTER. What’s to like? The men on the grass may very well have the bodies of Adonis, but they also have weird bumpy ears and are miles away and I am short sighted (and yet to reveal my spectacled face to my new boyfriend).
But I didn’t say this then, of course. No no.
One year on and a joint tenancy on a rented flat and a goldfish together however, I was happily clothes shopping with his mother on a Saturday afternoon whilst he sat shivering in the cold, hands frozen stiff around a plastic cup of fizzy, boozey, apple juice.
Rugby for me, was a no-no.
The kids are at that age where they are starting to show serious interest in specific things. Hobbies. And of course, as parents, we want to encourage this. By which I mean we want to encourage them to like and enjoy our hobbies. As parents, we want to have common interests with our children. Whether they like it or not.
You have guessed by now that I am more your “inside in the warm” kinda gal. My dad’s idea of sport was walking to the TV to turn on a movie. We would watch movie upon movie together, and movies remain to this day, a major part of my life. My right of passage for the boys was to witness the moment they fell in love with films. Those moments of standing on a big book and pretending to be Marty McFly on his skateboard, holding onto the back of a truck. To set up booby traps and pretend to be a Goonie. Perhaps to wrap their legs in a blanket and thrash about the the room pretending to be mermen.
And they do do all these things.
For Smudge, it was all about them going to their first Rugby match.
Already the balance of my house is off by 3 penises to my zero, and I may not have a willy but I am not about to lose out on anything else. I may have stopped putting on my “cool girlfriend” hat (along with regularly shaving my legs) 10 years ago, but I now need to find my “cool mum” hat.
And to start telling lies again.
“Oooooh rugby!” I said “Yeah! Let’s go and watch a game! Mummy LOVES rugby! The school are even offering free tickets with this deal with the local rugby club! Mummy knows what, we won’t even drive to Rugby! LET’S GO WILD AND GET THE BUS!”
If I didn’t have them at “rugby” then I had them at “bus”.
It’s funny how you open your mind to new hobbies when you have to. I may have faked it sometimes with Smudge (ABOUT RUGBY) but his genuine interest plus my fake interest in rugby inevitably, despite my efforts, planted something that I couldn’t totally shake. It all seems to come full circle in the end. Ed? Ed had a cracking time at the rugby, despite the howling, cheek burning brutal wind and rain that appeared from nowhere that day. Me? I also had a great time. Because of the howling, cheek burning brutal wind and rain, because we had no car, because we left the match early because the kids were cold, because the bus didn’t come to collect us so we had a massive DRAMA about getting home in the unpredicted Armageddon-like weather that appeared from no where (I like a drama, did you know that?). Smudge? Well, he got to witness the Right of Passage he wanted for his sons. And Alex? Yeah. Alex is like me. He asked me if next time his dad and brother go to watch the rugby if he could come shopping with me and eat sweets.
The MAD Blogging Awards are still open for nominations, not just for “me me me”, I don’t mean that, but I mean for any blog that you think might be worth nominating, and there are some really great ones out there. Here is the link if you want to get nominating Mad Blog Awards