Barb and I were not at a Super Bowl party on Sunday. Oh, we watched the game, had a tail-gate worthy ribs dinner, and cheered on the Patriots. And we did it almost alone, just sharing the excitement with the Milo the pup and Phoebe the cat.

For the first time in years, we were in town and not at a party on Super Bowl Sunday. No invitations came our way. Of course, we could have thrown a party at our house but we have had several gatherings here recently and didn’t feel like planning (or cleaning up from) another one. So I was able to watch every smothered run, every incomplete pass, and all those Los Angeles punts. Plus the commercials and New England’s one lonely touchdown.

But it just wasn’t the same. Super Bowl Sunday is meant to be shared. So if you invite us to your party next year, I make the following ten promises.

1. We will bring good appetizers. Or our special double washed crunchy Japanese coleslaw. Whatever you want.
2. If the Bears are in the Super Bowl, I promise to pronounce Mitch Trubisky’s name correctly. Also, I promise not to mention Mike Ditka or Da Bears.
3. I won’t sing along with the half-time show. Unless the main act is U2. Or the surviving half of Steely Dan.
4. I won’t scream “Pass Interference” after every dropped throw.
5. I will never, ever, ever double dip a chip.
6. I will not take off my shirt ala Maroon Five’s Adam Levine to show off my cut bod and my ink.
7. I won’t ask for you good scotch. However, I will accept a tumbler full if offered. Just one ice cube, please.
8. I will not do a safety dance. As long as no one scores a safety. I will also refrain from saying “Doink” if a field goal attempt hits the upright.
9. I will buy all the leftover boxes on your squares game. And I won’t gloat when I win three quarters in a row.
10. I will not spend the entire broadcast bemoaning that football “was better in the day.”

So invite us please. It is only 362 days till the next Super Bowl Sunday!