by Morganne Michaels

Created on: January 20, 2009   Last Updated: January 28, 2009

The Dallas Cowboys are amazingly perfect. There are those in the world who would disagree with me, but I scoff at their difference of opinion (and my husband's). He is not much of a sports man. He is more of a hiking, camping, quad riding, sand loving, river-rat kind of man. He could care less about following scores, and watching games. And truthfully, he finds me a bit psychotic when I am jumping up and down on my sofa, crying with joy whenever I just see Tony Romo. This is usually before Tony has done anything spectacular. Curse Jessica Simpson.

We are two different people, and yet we go together, like peanut butter (that's me) and chocolate. He loves to see me happy. If he is watching TV and finds something about the Dallas Cowboys on, he will tell me about it later or better yet, Tivo it for me. This includes interviews and tidbits of strange information. The Dallas Cowboys are not the only team I follow. He knows this. Every year I watch the Super Bowl, and he throws me a party. His friends come over, and I watch the game with them. He mans the snack table, keeps the fridge filled to capacity with cool refreshing drinks, and even grills hamburgers on the barbeque in the back yard. His friends think we are crazy, and I secretly agree.

I, of course, am an odd combination of sports fan, and girlie-girl. I am a mani-pedi, hand me a Cosmo, and a bottle of spring water, kind of girl. As you can imagine, this is not something that goes with quad riding, wake boarding, water skiing, camping or hiking. Yet, when I see how much my husband adores it all, how can I be thoughtless? Whenever I see how overzealous he can become when it is about something I love, I want to return the favor. After countless evenings watching football with me, certainly being bored beyond reason, the least I can do is camp.

If it were only the football he had to put up with, I might not feel the need to camp. He has to put up with my obsession for College Basketball too. I can't help it. I love the Sweet Sixteen, and the Final Four. I follow each game, filling out a chart I find in the newspaper every year. My father does this, and apparently, I found it to be a very normal thing to do, so I emulated him. My father and I call each other almost every night during the College Basketball season, and rehash our favorite, and least favorite moments of the games. I can see the irritation on my husband's face, quite often during these conversations. He could care less if Duke makes it; I call

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>