Food, Football, and Love

Every time I write an angsty rant about why men suck, I always question the decision later. Like, if only I had watched He’s Just Not That Into You for the thirty-seventh time while inhaling frozen chicken wings and a case of light beer before opening my laptop, last week’s post could have probably been avoided entirely.

But then again, it was met with an overwhelmingly positive response from women far and wide — so at least my anger was able to cultivate some kind of sisterhood united against noncommittal a-holes. That’s always good.

In any case, I’d like to bring some positivity back up in here by presenting you with a photograph of a mural-sized rendering of the tattoo I’m strongly considering getting inked between my shoulder blades:

                                           This piece of wood just gets me.

Or, if we want to be a bit more specific — a combination of:

  • two hot dogs,
  • a cheeseburger,
  • three grilled shrimp skewers,
  • approximately fourteen steak tips,
  • eight pieces of marinated pork,
  • a quarter of a rack of ribs,
  • probably a bag of chips,
  • too many Coors Lights to tally up, and
  • another cheeseburger

is love.

Because that’s what I ate on Sunday throughout the course of tailgating and attending the Patriots home opener, and it was definitely love in its purest form. And/or its most obese form — which is fine, because I’m totally over those body image issues, Lou. Because really, unlike a gay bar, Gillette Stadium is something of a judgment-free zone.

I don’t know what it says about the world that I’ve come to associate gay men with rejection and ostracization while I associate NFL games with love and acceptance, but the irony is not lost on me.

                                     I’ll take “fat” over “douche bag” any day.

As far as the game itself, we couldn’t have sucked more. But I’m getting over it.

And yeah, as far as the men I’ve dated this summer, they couldn’t have sucked more. But I’m getting over that, too. Because — when it comes to both dating and football — it’s early.

And there’s always next week.



  1. “And yeah, as far as the men I’ve dated this summer, they couldn’t have sucked more.”

    Oh so they DID suck after all? 😉 *snickers* Sorry, I just had to…

    I like your tattoo idea! Join the club–I got 3!

    And stop it; you’re so not fat. The picture proves it. Ugh… men… >_<

    • Ha! No comment on that first part! Lol.

      You have three more tats than I do! I’m secretly afraid of the pain. But I’m dangerously intrigued.

  2. OMG! You are SO not fat! And you are such a good writer!

  3. I know I’m not gay but you are NOT fat and you are really cute. Tom Brady sucks cheeseburgers. xo

    • LOVING YOU. (This is huge, considering the anti-God/Tom rhetoric that followed the compliment to which I’m responding!)

      • I am LOVING YOU because of everything you ate and how I admire a gluttonous appetite. And I lived in Boston for 3 years after college. Did I tell you that?! I love me some Beantown just not Tom or Doug Flutie. Just sayin’ Okay well kinda love Doug Flutie, he’s a good man but apparently a d bag in highschool in Natick or Needham. And I lub Cam Neely.

  4. Mate, I think you need to look-up the word ‘fat’ or ‘Phat’ as what I see in that picture is not any of those. I know you freak-out with the word ‘Gym’ but you simply need a strict regime for maybe 6 weeks before – what appears to be ‘fat’ or ‘Phat’ – simply turns itself into muscle.


  1. […] of a) text message conversation that took place between my brother’s girlfriend and me at the Patriots game on […]

  2. […] how at the beginning of this year’s football season I wrote that whole post about how I went to the Pats home opener after having spent most of my summer wasting time with […]

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