The Blowfish Blog

Couple’s Couch: Left the SuperBowl to Do It

It wasn’t planned. We had intended to stay for the duration of the game at the neighborhood pub. We were drinking $2 Bud Lights and eating hot wings and cheering on the Giants’ dismal opening game thinking of nothing but the moment, the beer, the company, and how many hot lesbians were packed into one, 12′ x 12′ bar in the Castro.

And then, fate betook us in the form of a Victoria’s Secret commercial.

Now, I’m not much a fan of Vickie’s bras or panties, they tend to ride up on my skinny frame, but something about watching one of the angels spin a football between her index fingers with a “couldn’t give a damn about the game” look made me throw down a handful of bills to settle the tab and drag my own little lady out of the bar and into our bed with less than two minutes on the clock.

What is a Victoria’s Secret commercial doing in the middle of the freaking Superbowl anyways?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not football purist. When it gets right on down to it, I really couldn’t give a crap who wins the game in the end anyhow. I go to Superbowl parties for the pretty girls in pigtails trying to look sporty, the copious booze, and the hot wings. I love hot wings. As one of the 100 some-odd “fans” that were supposedly “watching” the game from the Castro, I can say with confidence that if we’d intended to stay up to date with the score, we would have stayed home.

What’s with watching sports if not to glean some sort of vicarious sexual energy, anyhow? We know that the only reason you even pause the remote over national-level gymnastics events is to watch those impossibly tight tushies clench for dear life as those tiny women fly through the air. Same goes for watching runners do track events. Round and round and round is just not that interesting unless the runners are in their skivvies.

There is way too much ass slapping and skin-tight tights in the majority of “boys” sports to discount the fact that most of us could bypass the game action in favor for some up close and personal glimpses at taught flesh.

I admit it; I’m guilty. Guilty for objectifying star athletes, guilty for using sports as some arbitrary way of getting by blood pumping, guilty for turning on light a light bulb when Jasmine (or whoever she was) blinked her sultry, shadow-plied lids at me while wearing the latest version of the push-up bra.

I’m guilty for gathering in a sport’s space with no desire to actually partake in the sport that these athletes have spent their lives working for.

I watch sports for the potential nookie that may come as an afterthought to the game after we’ve all gotten hyped up cheering for a winner and stealing glances at the cheerleaders. Adrenaline is a powerful thing and I believe we should take it when we get it. Take it and run like a banshee home and into bed with it. We left in the 4th quarter for some touchdowns that were way better than what the Giants handed out in the last minute-thirty of the game. Somehow Victoria’s Secret knew this (genius marketing agent bastards) and capitalized.

And why shouldn’t they have? It certainly had some effect on a bar full of lesbians. Even the dykes were cheering the demi-cup princess’ coy attempts to steal our attention. Is there anything wrong with this? Shouldn’t I care more about the things that matter like the state of the world or the elections?

Then again, in the middle of an election year where Fox News refers to its delegate coverage as the “Ballot Bowl” to encourage viewers to stick around, going even as far as selling us the information that one of the Bush family members is really into football as “Breaking News,” I suppose we must admit that American’s truly want their grunts before their government.

Sports and sex prevail in this country, and I keep buying into the same old line just like everybody else.

— Rebekah Skoor, MA

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This entry was posted on Thursday, 14 February 2008 at 12:00 am and is filed under Advice. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.