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I Gave Up ‘Game Of Thrones’ For Love. Somebody Shoot Me

By Petr Knava | Think Pieces | August 9, 2017 |

By Petr Knava | Think Pieces | August 9, 2017 |

Love does weird things to people. It makes people do weird things.

I’ve done a lot of strange and outlandish things for love. Sacrifices. Proclamations. Proofs.

The movies show us a lot of the things people do for love. Flowers; chocolates; mariachi bands. Trope upon trope upon trope.

Well I’m here to tell you: All of those people are amateurs. Teeny tiny fish swimming in a pool not meant for their basic as fuck selves. They have no idea what a proclamation is. What a sacrifice looks like. I’ve been to the other side and I know.

I gave up Game Of Thrones for love.

Somebody please shoot me in the face.


You see it’s like this: My girlfriend, who I have written about before, occasionally has to be far away from me. She’s a big Game Of Thrones fan. As am I. We love to watch the show together. Because let’s be honest, watching Game Of Thrones together is one of the all-time great couples activities. Like, in all of history. Talking’s great. Dancing’s good. Any sport, actually, is pretty damn fantastic to do together as a couple. But watching Game Of Thrones? Whoof, it’s way up there.

So me and the girlfriend? We loooooooooooooove watching that shit together. And, recently, woop woop!—new season kicks off, everything starts to get climactic, epic, unmissable—not you, Euron. How much better can this get?


Which is why, as is the way of the world, some heinous annoying nonsense had to get in the way of things. Just before July 30th this year my girlfriend had to go somewhere where she would have no access to Game Of Thrones. Until the 16th of August. That’s three episodes.

Three episodes of Game Of Thrones missed while the rest of the observable universe watches religiously, posts spoilers on Facebook, and writes think pieces about it. The penultimate season of the most unmissable show around. And you just can’t watch for three whole weeks. Oof. That ain’t nice. That ain’t nice at all. My heart reached out to her when she told me that that’s where her fate lay.

And another part of me, a quiet, shameful bit glowed a little bit with a hidden warmth: I’ll still be watching. Keeping on top of things. Hearing that opening theme once a week. This feeling didn’t take the place of the empathy I felt, but sat alongside it, much the way when you have a friend who gets ill, and you feel sorry for them and you do anything to make sure they’re okay, but a part of you still remains: ‘Thank fuck that ain’t me.’

So when I heard the news of impending doom to be visited upon the woman I love, I thought those two things: ‘Oh, god, poor you!’ and ‘Thank fuck that ain’t me.’ I’d be seeing her on August 16th and we could then proceed to carry on as normal with the remainder of the season, she would just have to do a bit of catching up before the next episode on the 20th. Well, whatever, I’d gladly binge those three episodes with her, Game Of Thrones gives great re-watch after all. I said as much, puffing my chest out magnanimously. ‘I’ll gladly re-watch those episodes with you as you binge them. It’s not like it’s a huge sacrifice. Hell it’s not a sacrifice at all! And I love you, I’d do anything for you.’

BONG! A sound rang out ominously across the astral plane as the Fates pricked up their ears and converged upon our little corner of the universe.

She said: ‘Do—… Do you think you could wait?’


There are times in life when you hear something said, and though your brain sorts and processes the individual words, aligns them in the correct way to parse meaning, and gleans from them the desired meaning, it still refuses to understand the end result.

Could I wait?


Self-preservation would have had me at that moment run towards and dive out of the nearest window, out of audible conversation range. As it is, I walked further down the path: ‘Could I wait…for August 16th? Could I not watch any Game Of Thrones while you can’t watch any Game Of Thrones?’

She nodded sweetly to the sounds of a tolling bell and a werewolf howl. Time slowed and stars wheeled overhead.



‘Of course!’

‘No problem!’

Numb, I heard my mouth say the words. The contract was signed. Sealed. Final.

It’s August 9th, 2017, and I have not seen a Game Of Thrones episode since July 23rd.

The things we do for love.

Somebody send help.

Somebody shoot me in the face.


Petr Knava lives in London and plays music

Petr is a staff contributor. You can follow him on Twitter.