The Best Sporting Odds
Over here in England (well, Europe, technically), it’s currently the Six Nations rugby tournament. Rugby’s a bit like American football, only us Brits don’t worry about wearing cages to protect our bodies from the takedowns. (And yes, that’s a very loose form of the words ‘us’ and ‘our’.) Anyway, tradition states that those of us not able to get tickets for the game gather in bars with beer and watch the matches on a big screen. It’d be rude not to support your country after all. So, naturally, that’s what my weekends presently consist of.
I like rugby – I’m a willing spectator for pretty much any sport – and I’m definitely a patriot when it comes to competitive games, but it’s no coincidence that I place myself at events where I am likely to be surrounded by a heaving body of athletic, inebriated men; I’m single, not stupid. And I’ve decided that online dating is too expensive and totally devoid of my target material, so this is my new game plan. At the very least, I get an afternoon’s entertainment, the company of likeminded people, and beer. It’s not a bad return for my money any which way you look at it.
Despite my passion for sport, I’m not exactly into muscly men. The washboard stomach has never really done it for me. I cringe at the idea of an oiled-up Arnold Schwarzenegger or Jean-Claude “Muscles from Brussels” Van Damme physique. I wouldn’t know what to do with my hands – other than wash them. It’s probably quite telling that my body-builder references are from the 80s and 90s. There’s really no need to update me of the modern equivalent.
I much prefer a Dad-bod. A hairy chest and a bit of a tummy is far more attractive to me than a defined six-pack. Perhaps that’s because it makes me less self-conscious of the fact that I’m sporting the entire beer barrel. Who knows?
Fortunately, rugby fans come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. They also come in crowds. I had no problem with being squished into the pack of supporters as England defeated Wales in the dying minutes of the game, though it did make it rather difficult to see the screen at times. Still, there were other visuals to entertain the eye…
Yes, I totally appreciate that this seems like a terrible double standard. I am fully aware that if this was a man writing about gawping at a women’s beach volley ball tournament I would be appalled. Enraged even. But I’m not only here for the eye candy. Honest.
What I am actually doing is testing the water. Just like I said I would. I am opening my eyes and mind to the opportunities out there for meeting Mr Right. And, frankly, it would help if he was a massive sports’ fan, because I am too. It would also be handy if he was partial to the odd ale (or four), because I’m not always the perfect gin-sipping lady. And if he just so happens to be a 6 foot plus, strapping ex-rugby player who’s developed a bit of a paunch since his sporting retirement, well, then that wouldn’t be so bad either.