Friendship is to give up an important and most likely extremly exciting football-match to spend time with another person of your choice, and not use it against this other person for the rest of the relation, which probably will end after a short while with such kind of nagging. A simple reminder now and then should do the trick. “Do you remember the time I gave up watching the game to celebrate your birthday?”, just to make sure The Friend never forget how much he or she’s appreciated.
I was on my way to some place where alcohol would be served with football on huge tv-screens, and my fellow, screaming idiots of football-lovers would include me in our common goaling ecstasy, when my phone rang. I had just passed the porch of a very dear couple of friends, and they invited me up for cake and beer, leftovers after a family dinner to celebrate my friend’s 50th birthday. I couldn’t say no. I wouldn’t say no even though I was very eager to watch the game that saturday night. A match which was exactly the sort of competition that was certain to be pretty intens; Italy v.s. Austria.
I had already pushed the limits to what my own neighbours could take of loud cheering and yelling with doors open in this rare norwegian heat wave (imported from Russia as they lost big time to Denmark earlier that week) while enjoying Denmark beating the crap out of Wales earlier the same day. Since I knew I wouldn’t be able to restrain my enthusiasme and there are small children nearby in the neighbourhood, I had painted my toenails red for the love of the game and decided to be annoying amongst adults exclusivly in an environment set up for my kind; rude football-fans with way to much testosterone for anyone, especially a person with a vagina.
But then there were these friends and one of them was celebrating his number 50 and you don’t celebrate you’re 50 more than once, and I knew he would be thrilled if I came, and I also knew he would be disappointed if I didn’t and after all there were free home made food, delicious cake, beer and wine served with some of the best company I know. So there I turned around on my heels and forgot about that important match, at least for a few minuts at a time. I had to, of course, check my phone once in a while to see what I missed out on and when I figured out there were extra innings the mercy for my friends was gone. I added a nice and very polite “please” to the usual shut the fuck up as I turned on the radio to follow the rest of the game and wake up those kids who had fallen asleep in the nearby neighbourhood with my two times ecstatic
There’s obviously a limit to my friendship and it seems that the limit is extra innings.