An excerpt from a beloved Shakira poem expresses my World Cup feelings best. In it, the lover character makes increasingly outlandish, desperate promises to try and keep the guy from leaving, until we realize she has gone truly insane:
For you I’d give up all I own and move to a communist country.
If you came with me, of course. And I’d file my nails so they don’t hurt you.
And lose those pounds, and learn about football
if it made you stay…
I will keep you updated if anything further develops in this exciting story.