Friday, 14 May 2010
Mr. I Wish I Had...
One man or woman who could have been everything you wanted, but who you let slip through your fingers?
I do, and I still kick myself about it to this day...
Mr I Wish I Had was the rugby player I met one night in town. It's not an epic love story or a dating disaster - more a moment I will probably regret forever.
Mr. I Wish I Had played for the rugby team I support, and even though he was a few years younger than me I was a bit star stuck when I met him. I spotted him out with his friends in a bar one Saturday night, but being a total wuss I didn't dare to go over and say hello. Fortunately my friend Beth has balls of steel, and she went over to check that it was actually him. When I say check, she actually walked up to him and said:
"Excuse me, are you X and play for Leeds?"
But it was him. My vodka visor wasn't on the blink.
When I finally built up enough courage (aka did a couple of shooters), I walked over, got chatting to him, and offered to buy him a drink.
It was great and he was lovely. In fact, Mr. I Wish I Had and I were talking for ages. He was out with a few friends and his brother, and they were all genuinely nice guys. Thinking about it, he was probably flattered that someone had recognised him. After all, Leeds weren't exactly a fashionable team and didn't have millions of fans.
To make things even more amazing we kissed. It was very nice. Very nice indeed.
And then we full on snogged for 15 minutes without coming up for breath.
Everything was going great guns. And did I mention his ARMS? They were to die for, as was his arse - the finest I have ever grabbed to this day. Ever.
The only problem with the whole situation was that I was too drunk to think straight. Drunkety drunk drunk. So what could I possibly do to spoil my rugby player fantasy? Well, I left him to go and tell my friends just how lovely he was.
But the best thing is, once I was back with my mates I didn’t have the courage to go back over and talk to him again. I just stayed with my friends and watched Mr. I Wish I Had leave about an hour later.
I was such a FOOL!
He probably thought I was being a total prick tease or that I just wasn't that interested in him. Damn it. I kicked myself as I didn’t even get his number.
There went my rugby player fantasy, right there.
The weekend after my sporting snog it was the first game of the season. I stood and watched Mr I Wish I Had play, half smiling about our game of tonsil-hockey and half kicking myself for not setting up a rematch.
At the end of the year his try secured a cup final win and the first silverware my team had won in years.
And I was still gutted.
I think it's something that will annoy me forever. I could have been in there - or at least got a shag out of it.
If only I’d got his number...
So do you have a similar story?
(By the way, he's not the bloke in the picture, but you get the idea...)