Sex or Sports?

Recently, there was an article about the race for the secretary of state in Wisconsin. Not that interesting, except one candidate is a woman who has been touting her sexual expoits with the Lombardi-era Packers, conceivably to generate press for the campaign. It's not a great story, first considering that this is an old woman talking about sexual matters, which is kind of gross, and second because it really doesn't matter in the world of sports. It did set up a quandary though.

I've been thinking about how the brain works lately. Specifically, the guy brain. It's come to my attention that many men are in relationships that aren't conducive to the typical male lifestyle. A good friend of mine recently admitted that his girlfriend did not approve of him watching football on Sundays, playing video games ("It's a waste of time,") or going out to bars with friends to watch a game. This is madness, but it brings up a central theme: What's more important to guys; sports or sex?

The easy answer has to be sex. It has to be. Sex consumes the male mind 23.5 hours a day. (The other .5 hour I'm counting as Delta sleep, when you're pretty much unconcsious, but even then, you never know). We want it, and when we get it we want it some more. How could you even compare the two? Well, the problem is, there are certain situations in which a man must make a choice, and that choice is not always sex.

For some guys this is a non-issue. So for all artists, computer programmers, and the French, you can stop reading now. Je ne parle pas francais beaucoup, anyway. Alors.

Consider this. Say your team is playing in one of those "Most Important Game in Franchise/Team History." You've been waiting for this your entire life. Then, your girlfriend calls you and asks you to come over for a romantic evening. What happens?

Option A.) TiVo, DVR, VCR, whatever it takes to record the game, go over to the girlfriend/booty call's house and take care of business. Avoid all television and radio, do not answer the cell phone, and try to get out of the cuddling part as fast as possible. You don't get to see the game live, or with friends that could high-five you at any moment.

Option B.) Don't answer the girl's phone call in the first place, pretend that you were in the shower when she called, and call back after the game. The only problem is, you invited the guys over and you've had a few too many beers to go driving over to her house. You could invite her to yours, but Johnny's passed out on your bed and Jim is puking in the toilet.

Option C.) Answer the phone, tell her that the game of a lifetime is on, and she'll have to wait until tomorrow night. This leads to the "Are you choosing sports over me?" conversation, and can only end in breakup or caving. Neither is particularly inviting.

Which would a guy normally choose? Each has a specific set of consequences, which lead to either demasculinization or relationship torture akin to sodomy (not the good kind). But what's more important?

Sports has done its damndest to intertwine itself with sex. From professional cheerleaders to beer sponsor commercials, its done a bang-up job. There must be a balance struck between the two, however. If you meet a girl, decide she's the right one, and take the plunge and marry her, make sure you discuss this issue beforehand. It could save your relationship in the long run. Make sure she knows that there are certain situations where sporting events will come first. For instance, if you've planned a golf weekend with the boys on the same weekend that she booked a chalet in the mountains for some good lovin', she should be aware that the mountains can wait.

And women, please try to be understanding. The male brain doesn't and will never work the same as yours. Address them the same way you would address a retarded kid. They can't help it, and it's better to just let them do what they want most of the time.

And guys, after the "Game of a Lifetime" that interfered with sex, if you're still in the relationship, be prepared to attend a craft fair. It's inevitable.

Cheers.