Sorry, but I don’t really like sports (or feigning interest in them to get a guy’s attention). If a guy likes football more than me, I’d rather he have football. I can’t relate.

There are instances, though, when sports and love collide, and I have to put my game face on and pretend like I know what I’m doing. A relationship is a sport. Sometimes it’s an all - out WWE power struggle, but mostly, it’s like a game of tennis. The metaphorical ball is constantly traveling from one side of the court to another, with the balance of power tipping in either direction.

In the beginning, the guy usually has the ball, and I’m weak - kneed on the other side waiting for his next move. But as things progress, the ball slowly moves to me. Not that I’m necessarily comfortable with this position. When I have the ball, he’s all nice and sweet, harking to my every need to regain his stance. It’s uncomfortable. I’m not competitive by nature, and l know he’s going to get the ball back somehow — by not calling, looking at another girl or some other stupid play.

Over the last couple of days, there have been more bowl games than I can even keep track of. This is my issue, if you have not been following the Oregon University football season the whole time, why the hell do you want to watch it now?! Hello?! If you don’t watch a series, why would you give a sh** about the season finale? I get crap for wanting to watch the finale to America’s Top Model, after missing half the series - but you can watch some obscure division IAA team get hammered by a consumate top 25 team…uhhhhhh OK…

In relationship sports, there are no trophies or million - dollar endorsements for the winner. In fact, there are no winners. When your relationship starts looking like Wimbledon, maybe it’s time to retire from the game.