It’s interesting to see the things you learn when you are trying to win an argument. And last night what I learned broke my heart and shattered everything I know to be true, to a point where I am unshakably certain that I will carry trust issues into all of my future relationships. Kidding. But really, Tom Brady is an asshole.
In backtracking, I grew up in Wisconsin so the NFL was always a big deal (Go Pack!) but I really started getting into football right before Brett Favre started being insane. And after that, it was counterintuitive for me to think that football players were good guys. I thought they were all low lives because Brett was a low life, arrogant son of a… (and still is, in spite of that hilarious new commercial for Foot Locker). That is, until I watched the draft special on ESPN for the first time and saw a baby Tom Brady cry his eyes out over being a sixth round draft pick. Some of them had souls after all, I came to see. And I loved him for showing his. Which led me to follow his journey and gain an unwavering respect for him as both a gorgeous man and an incredible athlete. Namely, until now. Ugh. I’m sorry I just really need to take a break from this and cry for a little while to cleanse my emotional palette…
Alright, I’m over that. So as a teenage girl, I idolized Victoria’s Secret models and Gisele is evidently the holy grail of modeling. However, I was only fourteen when her and my Tom started dating. So while I hated her for taking my man, I didn’t actually care. I was a freshman in high school with braces and bad highlights; I had more important things to worry about.
As Tom grew better and Gisele grew older (sooooo old…suck it, Gisele), my spite towards their relationship faded just like my stripy white blonde highlights had. I began to defend Brady and the Patriots when all of my guy friends spat their insults, which until today I would still do because to me, the only proof I had that God really existed was the way that the curvature of his ass fit so perfectly into that uniform. Divine intervention if I’ve ever seen it.
But yesterday as I used Brady as an example to support my argument that a lot of hot men wear Uggs, I was blindsided and struck with the knowledge that he is actually a huge creep. You could have the ass of Hercules and some of the best quarterback skills in the league, but you cannot leave your pregnant supermodel girlfriend for another supermodel. You just can’t do that.
You may know that pregnant girlfriend as Bridget Moynahan. You may not know her at all. But for me, I know her as Big’s Natasha in Sex and the City, and because of that, this story only hurts my heart more.
I live and die for Carrie Bradshaw and you KNOW that, but Carrie helped Big cheat on Natasha and that was a dark day for our relationship. (And like, I know his and Carrie’s unilateral love for one another meant that him and Natasha would never work, he was always Carrie’s, but cheating is never the answer people, and I’m just saying. Animals.) So now, not only is Natasha being cheated on for most of season three and left for a cooler woman, but then in real life she gets both literally and figuratively screwed by the sexiest man in football (I am so sorry Eric Decker but it’s true) and left with a baby to raise on her own. It isn’t fair.
The worst part about it is that you can research every interview she’s done since (like I did last night) and she never says a bad thing about him. In fact, she hardly talks about him at all. And that takes a serious Mother Teresa kind of woman. Like a really, really good person. Not many of us could say we would behave that way.
So for the Natashas and Bridgets of the world, I hate him and will turn my cheeks when they show his cheeks on television. Which SUCKS for me. And if you were hiding under a pubertal rock like I was when this happened, now you know–and consequently hate him too. I’m sorry, but as I’ve learned this year (in regards to animal cruelty, especially) ignorance is not an excuse, so you need to be informed about the travesties like Tom Brady that plague the world, especially if you used to think so highly of them. (Speaking of…fuck you, Sea World.)
On a positive note, now Eric can claim his rightful spot as MVP in regards to being the full package of the NFL. Love you, boo.