Thursday, 25 August 2016


When I was 10 years old I made my first visit to our local rugby club. That was the day that went on to shape my formative years.

There weren't many young teenage girls in the 90s who spent every weekend surrounded by big burly blokes - well not in my home town anyway! 

By the age of 16 I'd witnessed enough to make my university days seem tame in comparison. Half naked blokes, yards of ale, language that would make your granny blush - just a normal Saturday! For my 18th birthday a group of them even stripped for me, which was...interesting!

Of course it was all good humoured fun. Just a group of blokes releasing the pressures of a hard weeks work. Although how banging a tray repeatedly against your head does that I've still yet to work out...

Anyway, there was a reason why I suddenly decided to write all this down's exam results time. (Stay with me!)

Spending all your time in a rugby club you'd think that the chances of some teenage one on one action would have been quite high. Well, definitely for some, but not really for me. 

To be honest I looked on most of those around my age in disdain. I didn't like them, they didn't seem to like me. I spent most of my teenage years in an awkward haze. The geeky older sister of the more popular one.  I was the one who worked the bar, ran the tuck-shop, helped in the kitchen. They were the ones who went out and got pissed. It was all fine by me. To be fair, they were probably all lovely people, but teenagers can be dicks. Especially me. I was awful.

I screwed up my first chance of 'romance' at the tender age of 14 with an acute attack of embarrassment, met my first boyfriend during sixth form and finally ended up dating a rugby player when I was 19...and the least said about that the better.

There was that one though. The slightly older unattainable one. 

The one who embarrassed the hell out of me by performing the haka only millimetres from my face in the middle of the clubhouse. 

The one I could never look straight in the eye afterwards. 

The one who made me blush ever so slightly if he so much as glanced in my direction. 

I was working behind the bar just after GCSE results day. Most people were outside and in he walked, straight up to me in the bar.

"Hey, how you doing?" (Although, he didn't sound like Joey from Friends!)

Now, obviously he was ordering a drink but he was talking to me. Just me! I stared resolutely at the beer pump as he continued.

"So, did you get your results?"

I looked up.

"Have you decided what A levels you're doing?"

I placed the pint on the bar. "I've been at university a year now. Studying Law."

And with that he turned a darker shade of pale, mumbled something incoherent and walked off with his pint.

And that ladies and gentleman, is how you cure a crush on a guy with a name like a biscuit!

Not your average results day tale but I hope it raised a smile during what can be a stressful time!

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