I have long believed that I am cursed or that I have the ability to jinx good things in my life. I know, I know, I have a good life, so I’m not saying that this curse has forced me to live in poverty or be riddled with health problems, but I do have an uncanny ability to fuck up good things. Yes, I’m once again talking about dating because what else is there to talk about.
Recently, while walking up Yonge St. (in Toronto), I passed two slow, older women while crossing the street. I didn’t touch the women or say anything, but for some reason as I passed, one of the women reached out and touched my cheek with two fingers. I scowled at her for quite a while wondering what the heck was up with this crazy chick and she said something in another language to her walking pal while staring into my eyes. I was certain, in that moment, that she placed a curse on me. Another curse!
It’s been a few weeks since this alleged cursing and I’m happy to report that I am still alive. However, my favourite team was annihilated at the Super Bowl a few nights after the incident, so I choose to believe the Denver Broncos were her intended target. How else can you explain why my beloved Peyton Manning, QB for the Broncos, wasn’t able to score more than eight points? Sure, Seattle played really, really well and dominated the entire game and deserved it, blah, blah, blah. But Peyton is the best (sorry Tom Brady fans) and deserves a second Super Bowl ring!
The loss and the curse got me thinking about past Super Bowls and I remembered some things I’d buried deep. Namely that the past two Super Bowls were spent with guys I was dating and two years in a row, the Super Bowl was our last date. I was dumped right after. Two years in a row. Maybe I’m not really cursed, but I’m certain that the Super Bowl and I are a bad mix.
Then, I started digging further because I’m all about self-reflection, and I realized that it isn’t just football and I that are not a good mix, at least when it comes to dating. Last year, when I finally saw my one, true love in person, Pavel Bure, I attended the game with the guy I was seeing at the time. He also ended things right after. I guess I’m a total nightmare to watch sports with. Sure, there were obviously other things that didn’t feel right for those dudes in our relationship and the timings were all a coincidence. Sure. But I am at least a little bit cursed, right?
In any case, I’m realizing that my assertion, back in grade five, that guys like girls who like sports, is maybe not that true. Most of my friends could care less about sports and they are happily married. Maybe it’s time to give up on Denver and Djokovic and Mickelson and all the other athletes and teams I cheer for and spend my time caring about other things. Like decorating and crafting witty and insightful blog posts. I wonder if my belief that guys only like girls who put out on the first date isn’t really true either. Kidding!