Its the dead of night as I type this post. John and I are together this weekend, but he's long gone upstairs to bed after an evening of brooding over Ghana's 1 - 1 draw with Australia. He was unhappy that I refused to be as angry about the draw as he was. And when I pointed out that at the Ghanaian barber's salon at the bottom of our road, right on the street was gathered a fairly large crowd of Ghanaian people celebrating the draw, dozens of their parked cars festooned with Ghana flags, singing, dancing, playing conga drums, vuvuzelas at full blast, this just got him more vexed..
Okay, let me make a confession. I do like football, but maybe the actuality is that I'm a bit more interested in the footballers than in the game itself. I have memories of how as a child I would watch the Nigerian national team play on television and find myself comparing the players, one against the other, until I decided upon one particular player that I fancied the most. That player would be my hero at every game thereafter and I would look forward to seeing him play, regardless of how well or how badly he or the team played. I looked forward to matches so I could see him again, until such a time as when he didn't make the team. Then I would quickly overcome my disappointment and move on to another player. It was always to do with their looks. The well-built good looking ones were my favourites. Sometimes I would fancy more than one player at a time, and this is especially true with the Brazilian team...
Anyway, going back to John, we've been watching most of the World Cup games together, but I think its kind of annoying for him that rather than agree (or disagree) with him about what he thought the coach should be doing, I would instead quip about some player's luscious lips, or make some other similarly irrelevant comment. Lol. Today was particularly interesting because I was completely awestruck by the Cameroon player Achille Emana and couldn't stop talking about how adorable I think he is.. Actually, I was being naughty because I knew how upset John already was about the Ghana - Australia result earlier on and I was acutely aware that I had not at any time during that game showed even the slightest interest in any of the Ghana players, (the one I would have commented about was on the bench). (And if you didn't already know, John is Ghanaian).
At the end of the Cameroon - Denmark game, the camera zoomed in on a shirtless Achille Emana as he strode towards the tunnel. And trust me on seeing this finely chiselled body, to go "Oh! Oh! Ah!", my hands clutched to my chest, feigning a heart attack. Perhaps this was too much for John, because he abruptly got up and left the room. After several minutes, I went looking for him and brought him back to the sofa, where I calmly explained to him that none of this was serious and that even if a situation arose where I was in a position to choose between these people on TV and John, I would choose him every time. No, I admire these fancy footballers, but they are no more than digital pictures on my TV screen. John is real. He is flesh and blood and warm and loving. Besides, his abs are to die for..
I shooed him off to bed after he'd drifted to sleep, head cradled in my lap while still on the sofa. And now I think its my bedtime too. Before I leave though, I can't help wondering why it is that some men enjoy receiving the baby treatment..
I know if John reads this he'll probably throttle me, so if you guys don't hear from me again, you know the reason.. Ciao! :)