The best roses are white

I had my sights set very high. I wanted to pull the fittest guy I could possibly find, and I imagined it would be fairly easy – after all, they’d all be drunk and celebrating - or drunk and looking for consolation.

The first night was a pretty quiet affair: most of the teams had fixtures in the morning so weren’t inclined to get out much, plus I was preparing myself for the weekend ahead.

Saturday is when thing really started to get fun.

Since guys often tend to be very simple creatures, I dressed myself in a very low-cut top, hoping to attract the attention of some rather lovely male athletes. It worked quite well. Well that is if you like your chest constantly being looked at before your face - it’s all fine with me! Off I went to explore the campus and the different sporting ventures that were going on.

Interestingly enough, the talent stretched into many sports - even ones in which I didn’t think it was possible to have hot guys.

But it was rugby where I found the true talent. I’ve always been a massive rugby fan, the guys are hot and their attitude is amazing. I don’t want to seem weird when I say that I love the way they act, all none-caring and laddish, like they are too good for everyone and no one is good enough for them. I knew that to pull a rugby lad wasn’t going to be that difficult, lets face it, most of them can be kind of slutty. But one thing I did find out this weekend is that they work as a team, on and off the pitch. Once one of them has decided they have their sights set on you, the rest back off.

I got one of the lad’s numbers after the match and he asked where I would be later on. He said he would meet me.

The day carried on in much the same vein: being gawped at by the increasingly drunk sportsmen and receiving texts from different guys requesting I meet them. But I wasn’t in the mood for settling with one guy yet – I was still exploring Lancaster.

That night wasn’t as good as I’d expected so some friends and me visited a few bars then called it a night at around midnight. Lack of sleep and food had tired me out – but that didn’t stop things being interesting. Lying in bed was when I got a text from the rugby lad asking where I had been earlier. He said he’d tried to find me and that I’d have to make it up to him.

Not much sleep was had that night, and Sunday was an early morning, but Rugby was on the cards again and it was absolutely packed out with supporters. Today I was wearing my rugby shirt – to show support – and to attract the attention of the rugby crowd. Whilst watching the matches, I managed to meet up with quite a few of the guys from the day before but once they were over I left pretty sharpish – I was freezing by this point and needed to pack for heading home. Yet, later on I headed to the Spar and found a large group of drunk rugby players. A lot of them asked me to come out that night – who was I to say no? A few commented on my shirt, and a few more leered at me. I was loving the attention.

That night, back in York, I finally pulled a rugby lad. He left my house late the next morning. Lets just say I didn’t get much sleep.

Love Roxy

P.S. in response to a comment made on my other article, feel free to chat up girls in the gym, personally it makes me work out harder.

Add Comment

You must log in to submit a comment.