Living out the fantasy of literally thousands of women.

I was in my last year at university during the last world cup, and all the England games managed to clash with graduation/end of year events, in particular, the end of year ball.

The lads got into their tuxedos at about midday and headed off to the pub to watch England vs. Argentina, they urged us to do the same, but instead we spent the day getting everything organised, getting cars ready, going to the hairdressers, last minute shopping, picking up flowers, debating whether underwear was required, squeezing into dresses, and it was all a giant pain in the arse, but I would still have rather been doing that, than watching the football.

So this leads me to Wednesday night, and a row with Glenn that got so horrible I ended up lying awake at 3.30am, looking at him passed out drunk next to me, thinking about where I could go if I just threw some clothes in a bag and left.

It really doesn’t matter what the row was about, I’m not going to talk about that now because a) it's nobodies business but ours and b) it was totally Glenn’s fault, and the problem with telling someone about a row that was completely one person’s fault is that the person you are telling always thinks ‘well that’s fine, but it’s just her side of the story and she’s not perfect, so it must have been at least a little bit her fault’, and you see, this time, for possibly the first and last time, it was not, in any way, my fault.

It was so not my fault, that yesterday, Glenn missed football so he could come straight home and sort things out, he bought me flowers from Marks and Spencer, a ‘Sorry’ card and a choice…

He is SO sorry, I can choose either of the following;

a) he will never drink again

or

b) he will only watch the football matches in the world cup that I want to watch.

Now we weren’t together during the last world cup, so he had no idea when he made this offer that I don’t care about the world cup any more than I care about any other football match that is ever played, anywhere, at any time, ever.

This gives you some idea of just how bad this row was, just how sorry he is, and just how much making up he has to do.

It’s really kind of a false promise, we all know that I wouldn’t pick option A because I like a glass of wine as much as the next person, and occasionally, I like to get so drunk my eyes cease to function in any useful way, I have difficulties remembering my name and sometimes I try on wedding dresses and launch myself out of windows. So that leaves me with no choice but to choose option B, and the problem with that is seeing it through, I mean there is genuinely not a single match that I have any desire to see, except possibly the final, and only then if England are in it, and probably then only the first and last 20 minutes.

I think really, it all comes down to how upset I am about Wednesday night, am I so upset that the feeling will last and no, there will be no world cup in our house and no, he can’t go and watch it anywhere else because I get to say what he can and can’t watch and I say no…?

… or, am I secretly a nicer person than you think I am, and will let it go and make sure he gets to watch the football he wanted to.

I have a feeling he thinks the latter, and although I’m sure he meant the gesture, he doesn’t think I’ll see it through…

… except that could backfire on him, because that could make me even more determined to make him pay…

Imagine, England win the world cup in 2006, and Glenn doesn’t get to see it because one night a couple of months before the final, he was so evil I got to ban it with no objection….

Wow.

Questions:

1. Am I that nice, or that evil?

2. How much is Glenn regretting a) Wednesday night and b) ever thinking that the flowers wouldn't be enough?