The Rugger Lover

Rugby, the sport of kings, there's just something about the game and the players that I love. Maybe it's a primal animalistic thing, but I find broken noses and cauliflower ears strangely attractive. I just think the Neanderthal / messed up look is really quite hot, not like Quasi messed up, but a few bumps here and there.

One of the best afternoons I've had this summer was at Savayor Sevens, I was literally in awe; sunshine, free booze and more hot men per square foot than I'd ever seen in my life.

The day hadn't quite worked out in my favour though, as I'd been set up on a semi-date with a friend of a friend. He was pleasant enough, although spent the majority of the day with his client, (who he'd invited along,) swooning over him. I found myself trapped between being too polite to leave the group to talk to passers by and terribly annoyed that I wasn't making the most of the opportunity. I mean how often are you surrounded by so many God-like men?

Well I needn't have been so polite, as I haven't seen or heard from the friend of a friend since - bastard.

You win some, you lose some. Or in my case, just like the Worcester Warriors, I seem to be on a losing streak!

Desperate at the doctors

I've recently learnt that it isn't cool to approach men at the doctors surgery...

After a few shockingly bad dates, imagine my surprise when the hottest guy I've seen in a long time strolls into the doctors and sits besides me. For a moment I'm terribly flustered trying to conceal the pot of piss I have in my hands (a compulsory sample to sign up at the surgery), but it's no good- he's already seen it.

Several moments of eye flirting pass, and just when his lips part to make verbal communication, we're both distracted by a loud ping and turn to see his name flashing up in huge red letters. He glances at me one last time before jumping up and heads to the consultation room he is directed to.

Now I have no idea what possessed me to do the following, but, basically, I thought it would be a fine idea to jot down his name and, later, Google this beautiful man. A bottle of wine and a few shots later I find myself being lead astray by fellow singletons and partook in a spot of Facebook stalking. To cut a long story short, I dropped him a message that went something along the lines of 'I clocked you at the doctors and thought I'd say hi' - eek...really bad chat!

Needless to say, I never heard from him and then a few days ago I was almost knocked to the ground by a motorcyclist trying to cut through the traffic. In reaction I yelled some word of abuse, words that should never come out of a young ladies mouth, let alone at 7.30 in the morning. Imagine my horror when I look up to see this beautiful man staring disgustedly in my direction. So it's great, he now not only thinks I'm a cyber stalker but that I have gutter-mouth Tourettes.