Why I’ll Be Supporting a Truly Multicultural Olympics

Ha. If you thought I was really going to write about something so serious as the title suggests, you’d be wrong. You should know by now that this is a light hearted (for the most part) blog. No, this blog comes courtesy of Miss PortuGirl who has fully been initiated into the Freechick world on account of the complete man-feast she provided earlier today. All I can say, is ladies…enjoy! I’ve posted my favourite pics below, for ease of reference 😉

All images come courtesy of the following blog, and there are loads more hot athletes to ogle at: http://wheelr.tumblr.com/post/27937753079/hotlympics-the-hunks-of-london-2012

p.s. – please can someone tell me how to do short, neat links???

Oscar Pistorius – South African sprinter, 25. Apart from being the first Paralympian to compete in the Olympics, he is seriously hot. And he has quite a (ahem) package.

Anthony Ogogo – Team GB Boxer, 23. Scrumolicious and flying the Union Jack.

Tervel Pulev – Bulgarian Boxer, 29. Two words: Yes. Please.

Clement Russo – Italian Boxer, 35. Just divine. Looks like he’s drag you to the side and do all manner of wicked things.

Phillippe Beaudry – Canadian Fencer, 25. Il est tres beau!

Marcelo Chierighini – Brazilian Swimmer, 21. O-M-Actual-G. He looks like the guy from the Dolce & Gabbana ad. Scrumptious.

Luke Rowe – New Zealand Footballer, 20. He’s below my age limit, but I so would.

Hugo Parisi – Brazilian Diver, 27. We know Brazil produces gorgeous women but…hello??

Helge Meeuw – German Swimmer, 27. Pure perfection.

Dating exploits and chick-lit cliches

I’ve been a busy bee since coming back from Ireland. After Mr Double-Barrel’s radio show, I’ve kept a low profile with him and as is always the way, he’s increased the communication. Facebook poking, messaging – you get the drift. We met up on Friday as planned to watch the football and I was as blasé with him as I could possibly be. The compliments were rolling off his tongue. I looked nice, I smelled nice, it felt like he hadn’t seen me for ages. I replied ‘well it has been 3 weeks.’ He was touchy feely and for once, I felt like he was on the back foot. I guess it helped that I got chatted up by a rather hot guy who was there with his friend. When Mr Double-Barrel and I left, he told me that the hot guy had asked if we were together. Mr Double-Barrel said ‘not exactly’ and when the hot guy asked if he could ask for my number, apparently Mr Double-Barrel said no. Dick. The hot guy was, well, hot and told me to come back to the bar the following Tuesday to watch the next match. I didn’t end up going, but he served his purpose. Mr Double-Barrel was reminded that I’m not reliant on him for a love life. We went back to his and I took full advantage of the situation. He asked when he’d see me again and we made loose plans to watch the next match on Tuesday. I’d call him I said and didn’t speak to him any more after that.

I suppose I should admit that I’ve signed up to eharmony. The reasons are threefold. One, Miss Sunshine and Miss Comeback are on it, and I thought I’d keep them company. Two, a character in the new book I’m writing joins a dating website so it’s research (kind of) and three, it’s keeping me busy and when it comes to dating I guess practice makes perfect. So I’d started chatting to a guy. Italian, chef, pretty cute in his pics. We met up on Sunday and all I can say is ‘yawn’. He spoke about food the whole time and was not as cute in reality. On the upside he was a genuinely nice person and introduced me to a new bar. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday night.

So when Tuesday rolled around, it was time to meet up with Mr Double-Barrel again. I knew straight away there was something up and when I asked him what it was, it turned out he’d had a crap day. First off? His ex, the one who I was stressing about, had a go at him. When I asked why, he said ‘because of you.’ Oh joy. Apparently, she saw the picture I posted of us on Facebook from Friday night. Now, it’s not like we were all over each other in the picture and it included the hot guy and his friend. But she didn’t like it, and apparently had a go at him. I took this as my opportunity to get some answers, so I asked what the deal was with her. I mean, she practically jumps on his facebook as soon as he posts anything. He said she’s still in love with him and he just wants to be friends. Apparently they were together for 3 months (so not as long as I thought) and it ended because he didn’t want a relationship. And he added that he still wasn’t sure he did. Next up, the girl his brother was hoping to start a relationship supposedly turned around and said it would never happen because she likes Mr Double-Barrel. So he was down because his brother hadn’t spoken to him since. To say the guy has baggage is an understatement. Proper Terminal 5 syndrome. I just kept asking questions and soaking it all in.

I told him he was going in the commitment-phobe box and he said he isn’t, he just doesn’t know what he wants. He’s a toxic guy, like the ones I read about, and I told him so. He said he likes me, blah blah, and ‘it can’t be easy for me not knowing what’s going on.’ What did I say to that? I said that if we’d have been having this conversation a couple of weeks ago I’d be upset, but since listening to his radio show in Ireland, I wasn’t actually that bothered. I added a nice little ‘no offence’ to that. Once I feel slighted, I can do a 180 lightening quick and it takes a LOT for that person to get back into my good books. Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy. He’s a good laugh, very fanciable, all those good things, but he is just too damned complicated for his own good and right now I’m not looking at him with doe-eyes for a relationship. In any case, we had a bite to eat, watched the match and then he invited me to a business meeting with a friend of his afterwards.

One thing that I do have to give Mr Double-Barrel props for is that he knows some interesting people. The guy he was going to meet was this American media mogul and I figured, why not? That and the fact their ‘meeting’ was on the roof terrace of the private members club, Soho House. Cue wine and lemon drop shots on the roof until 2.30am. Mr Double-Barrel took me back to his because the buses were likely to be full of drunken England fans, and we collapsed on the sofa to sleep. I had a slight variation on the walk of shame (even thought I’d done nothing remotely shameful. Not a drop of saliva was shared) the morning after in that I had to get from his flat in West London to mine in South, grab a shower, change my clothes and then head into work. I have to say, this year, I’ve lived out a few chick lit clichés and as a writer, this is all great stuff to use in my next masterpiece. He’s currently on holiday at that festival with the ex who loves him and who he’s leading on. I kinda feel a bit sorry for her actually.

Hm. What else? Oh yeah. The Frenchman. We’ve been messaging each other since Ireland and it looks like I’ll be going away for the weekend in August. And why the hell not?

The power of the pitch

Today has been a hungover mooching day, which is funny since I got no more than tipsy last night. I spent lunchtime with my Gym Buddy doing some light shopping and then came home with a plan to do a quick hair treatment and some tidying up. Instead, I watched Wales beat France to win the Six Nations cup. It was a great game and my word there are some hotties on the Welsh team. Man of the match for me was Leigh Halfpenny who, aside from having a mighty strong right leg also has a mighty cute face.

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Immediately afterwards came England v Ireland. I saw about 2 minutes of it before I fell asleep. When I woke up, it had finished (congrats to England) but at least my headache is gone. Shame for Ireland, especially on St Patrick’s Day – have a good one my Irish fellows! But as I turned the TV over, the contrast between scenes of joy and scenes of distress were clear when I watched the news reports about 23 year old Bolton Wanderers midfielder Muamba, who collapsed on the pitch with a suspected heart attack. Watching the pictures of paramedics running onto the pitch to provide CPR and stunned supporters from both Bolton and Tottenham Hotspur was so sad. Players collapsing and even dying on the pitch isn’t that much of a rare occurrence. Eight years ago, Marc Vivien Foe collapsed and died, aged 28 playing for his country of Cameroon, and Miklos Feher who died on the pitch aged 24 playing for Benfica in 2004 – both due to cardiac arrest.

Reading my newsfeed on Facebook, it was nice to see the usual football rivalries that emerge on a Saturday (and there are a fair few) replaced by well wishes for Muamba. It’s often said that sport has the power to bring people together and when you think about it, it’s true. I’m fairly sure the football world is united in their prayers for this young player who, it seems now is in a stable condition, will pull through.

Here’s hoping he gets well soon.

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