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Authors: Anita Heiss
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care. There was so much eye
candy I could feel myself putting on weight just looking
at the sweet, sweaty men.
Then there was Daniel; stylish and agile, a pleasure
to watch in action. I stood there wanting to sink my
teeth into his thighs. People were screaming at him
from the sideline, 'Go Holmesy, go Holmesy!' and I
joined in. Everyone was rooting for him each time he
got the ball. They knew – and he knew – that he was the
best player on team; you could see why he was captain.
He scored five tries which, apparently, is really good for
touch football. Or any kind of football.
When the game finished, he was panting and covered
in sweat. His team had won and everyone walked in a
group to the pub across the road to celebrate.
As everyone sat around a table, I was the only one
left standing. 'There doesn't appear to be anywhere left
to sit,' I said awkwardly to no-one in particular.
'Here, let me make some room for you,' Daniel said,
and he mimed cleaning his face.
It was the kind of comment I'd expect from a rugby
league player, given all the bad press the code had had
in recent years with players involved in assault claims
and so on. He was disgusting, and clearly had no respect
for women.
'Don't worry, he's tried that line on every girl on the
team,' one of his female team-mates said.
'Yeah, he's nicknamed after John Holmes for a
reason,' another added, rolling her eyes. 'The porn star,
you know.'
Daniel ignored them and gave me a sleazy grin.
'Mickey didn't tell me you were so gorgeous.'
'Let's just say that Mickey doesn't really appreciate women the same way you do,' I said.
'Nor did he say you were so ...' He looked at my
double D's. 'It'd be great to watch you running on the
field.' Oh god, was this fella for real?
Even while he was trying to chat me up, he had one
eye on another woman across the bar. He saw me see
him checking her out.
'Don't mind me, I've got a lazy eye. It wanders
sometimes.' He must've thought I was an idiot to give
me such a lie.
'There doesn't seem to be anything lazy about your
eyes at all, Daniel.'
I wanted a one-woman man – make that one-Alice
man – so I finished my drink, took Daniel's number –
at his insistence – and left with no aspirations at all of
joining the team.
seven
Mr Moonwalker
Daniel didn't really count as a blind date, he was just a
way to test the waters, to get out there and give it a go.
The experience made it clear to me that Mickey wasn't
the best person to ask for assistance in setting up blind
dates with straight men. He just didn't know anyone
suitable. Onto Phase I, Step II: blind dates with friends
of friends.
On Saturday night, I sent an email to close friends,
giving them my list of what I was looking for in a man.
Dear so-and-so,
Do you love me? Do you want to see me happy? I know
you do, so help me find a good fella. My criteria for
Mr Right are attached.
With eternal thanks,
Alice xo
I sent it to a small but trusted group – Peta, Liza and
Dannie, of course, although they already knew what I
was up to, along with a couple of old uni friends I saw
occasionally at Cushion. I couldn't really cast the net too
wide in case Mum got wind of it. I'd never hear the end
of it. Mum still believed, like Dad, that women should
be demure and ladylike and men would eventually ask
them out. She was wrong.
Within days my friends were sending me details of
all sorts of men, telling me that I could cull them to a
short list. I didn't actually cull any, recognising that I
wasn't really in that strong a position. I'd be able to line
up a series of dates throughout the whole of November
if I wanted to. Even if I didn't find Mr Right I'd at least
be having a half-decent social life. It was summer and
nice to be out and about.
The first 'real' blind date didn't come from the spam
email I'd sent, though. Rather it was arranged by chance,
as I trudged up the stairs with Gabrielle from across the
hall, her with her washing, me with bags of groceries.
She
candy I could feel myself putting on weight just looking
at the sweet, sweaty men.
Then there was Daniel; stylish and agile, a pleasure
to watch in action. I stood there wanting to sink my
teeth into his thighs. People were screaming at him
from the sideline, 'Go Holmesy, go Holmesy!' and I
joined in. Everyone was rooting for him each time he
got the ball. They knew – and he knew – that he was the
best player on team; you could see why he was captain.
He scored five tries which, apparently, is really good for
touch football. Or any kind of football.
When the game finished, he was panting and covered
in sweat. His team had won and everyone walked in a
group to the pub across the road to celebrate.
As everyone sat around a table, I was the only one
left standing. 'There doesn't appear to be anywhere left
to sit,' I said awkwardly to no-one in particular.
'Here, let me make some room for you,' Daniel said,
and he mimed cleaning his face.
It was the kind of comment I'd expect from a rugby
league player, given all the bad press the code had had
in recent years with players involved in assault claims
and so on. He was disgusting, and clearly had no respect
for women.
'Don't worry, he's tried that line on every girl on the
team,' one of his female team-mates said.
'Yeah, he's nicknamed after John Holmes for a
reason,' another added, rolling her eyes. 'The porn star,
you know.'
Daniel ignored them and gave me a sleazy grin.
'Mickey didn't tell me you were so gorgeous.'
'Let's just say that Mickey doesn't really appreciate women the same way you do,' I said.
'Nor did he say you were so ...' He looked at my
double D's. 'It'd be great to watch you running on the
field.' Oh god, was this fella for real?
Even while he was trying to chat me up, he had one
eye on another woman across the bar. He saw me see
him checking her out.
'Don't mind me, I've got a lazy eye. It wanders
sometimes.' He must've thought I was an idiot to give
me such a lie.
'There doesn't seem to be anything lazy about your
eyes at all, Daniel.'
I wanted a one-woman man – make that one-Alice
man – so I finished my drink, took Daniel's number –
at his insistence – and left with no aspirations at all of
joining the team.
seven
Mr Moonwalker
Daniel didn't really count as a blind date, he was just a
way to test the waters, to get out there and give it a go.
The experience made it clear to me that Mickey wasn't
the best person to ask for assistance in setting up blind
dates with straight men. He just didn't know anyone
suitable. Onto Phase I, Step II: blind dates with friends
of friends.
On Saturday night, I sent an email to close friends,
giving them my list of what I was looking for in a man.
Dear so-and-so,
Do you love me? Do you want to see me happy? I know
you do, so help me find a good fella. My criteria for
Mr Right are attached.
With eternal thanks,
Alice xo
I sent it to a small but trusted group – Peta, Liza and
Dannie, of course, although they already knew what I
was up to, along with a couple of old uni friends I saw
occasionally at Cushion. I couldn't really cast the net too
wide in case Mum got wind of it. I'd never hear the end
of it. Mum still believed, like Dad, that women should
be demure and ladylike and men would eventually ask
them out. She was wrong.
Within days my friends were sending me details of
all sorts of men, telling me that I could cull them to a
short list. I didn't actually cull any, recognising that I
wasn't really in that strong a position. I'd be able to line
up a series of dates throughout the whole of November
if I wanted to. Even if I didn't find Mr Right I'd at least
be having a half-decent social life. It was summer and
nice to be out and about.
The first 'real' blind date didn't come from the spam
email I'd sent, though. Rather it was arranged by chance,
as I trudged up the stairs with Gabrielle from across the
hall, her with her washing, me with bags of groceries.
She
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