I was a normal girl, before this addiction. I was shy, sensitive, never loud, and very polite. My friends loved me, I treated everyone equally and I never fought with anyone. Oh, how I long for those days. Things have changed now, ever since I got hooked on to this damn sport. I have nothing left now.
My Social Life
Is in shatters. I miss parties because I’m at home, watching football. When people call me out I check my schedule first, which consists of match dates and fixtures. I classify people into three different groups.
1) The Liverpool fans—Also known as Upper Class in my dictionary.
2) The non-Liverpool fans—Middle Class, basically includes people who support other teams.
3) The non-watchers—Those who don’t watch football.
It’s not the fact that I’ve classified people that kills my social life. The problem is, I give first preference to the upper and middle class, I feel superior to the lower class, but its a group I haven’t bothered to classify that ruins it all.
The United supporters. How would Victoria Beckham react if a beggar walked into her mansion with muddy feet and dirty clothes? That’s my reaction when I meet Manchester United fans.
But wait, before you get your keyboard out to leave me harsh, hate-filled comments, I have something to say!
Something I’ve learned over the last few weeks, is that not all United supporters are that bad. Some are actually quite fun. Now, this is not an attempt to revive my social life, it’s mainly the truth.
Like I mentioned before, I was a shy girl, never one to talk loud or annoy people. I didn’t even know how to scream. In 2002, the FIFA Youth World Cup was held in U.A.E. By then I was sports crazy and finally got a chance to see my first football match.
It was Brazil vs Spain and I was all decked in yellow and green. That night my voice was at a volume never heard from me before. By the time I reached home it felt like someone was dancing with knives inside my throat, but it was worth it. I learned to scream that day, and now I don’t have to be at a game in order to scream. Ask my television set, if it had ears before, its probably gone deaf by now.
I was never good at comebacks. Ever. If someone insulted me, I’d either cry or say, “Oh yeah...well same to you!”
How things change. Soon, I was the one making people cry.
Ok, well not cry... but come close to it.
My Bedroom & bedroom habits!
“Mum, I’m painting my room red and you can’t stop me!”
You don’t even want to know my mother’s reaction to that. She soon gave up though, I’m not a fun person to argue with nowadays. My usual, dull white room is now a picture of Red and White, full of Liverpool FC posters and banners. Unfortunately now, my mother refuses to enter the room, and I have to clean it up all by myself.
I used to play the guitar, write songs, paint, and read during my free time. Now, its football schedules, fantasy football, designing team kits.
I used to spend time playing with my cat and dog, now they’re on the receiving end of kicks. It took them a while to realise that it was safer running for cover as soon as they saw me coming anywhere near.
The Love Life
Non-existent. Why, you ask? I guess some guys prefer it when you shut up and not go on and on about how the team they support sucks and how they should switch to Liverpool.
If he is not a football fan and somehow we got along, I tend to compare his commitment to Stevie G, dance moves to Peter Crouch, and looks with Torres. Ah, poor me!
My Fashion Sense
Ever since football took over my life, I’ve been a walking fashion faux pas. Okay, so I don’t wear the same boring Liverpool shirt always. I change them! I’ll wear a Stevie shirt on Thursday, a Torres one on Friday, a Mascherano one Saturday, and if Liverpool’s playing on Sunday, I’ll wear a shirt with Rafa’s name on it, because there are chances that some idiot might score an own goal *hint* *hint* Riise!
Worst of all, how was I to know Fowler's jersey isn’t regarded as a prom dress? I mean its Robbie Fowler's jersey!
Damn sport , I’ll never forgive you for ruining my life. I will forever step on footballs, watch all the games so I can yell at TV screens, and curse you under my breath when telling people I cannot attend a party. Hear me? This is war!
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