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mating game Category

Tuesday, August 25th, 2009

Top 10 Tuesday: Hockey player pick up lines.

Alright, so I almost forgot about Top 10 Tuesday, but I managed to crank out a half assed puck bunnyish list three hours before Wednesday in EST. This week’s list covers my top picks for pick up lines used by hockey players. The quotes I’ve listed below are real life, verbatim pick up lines that I have heard over the years. So, don’t blame me if you think these lines are totally lame – I didn’t make them up!

10. “You have to come watch me play.”

Have you ever seen the movie The Tao of Steve? The movie explains that any guy, even the George Costanza type, can attract any woman should he have the chance to exhibit his excellence or talent in front of her. Enter the hockey player. Unfortunately, it’s not usually the REAL hockey players that use this line; it’s usually the former AAA Bantams, playing out their careers in men’s rec. Maybe I’m just mean, but as someone who goes to NHL games for a living, why would they think that I would be interested in watching this snooze fest? Playing, maybe, but definitely not watching.

9. “My ex girlfriend is the same age as you.”

This one is for the junior hockey youngsters out there. Have you ever noticed that there are a lot of coincidences in junior hockey? Like, the hockey player who is currently pursuing you magically broke up with his ex at the same time that you broke up with yours? Yeah, that means it’s a lie, and that their mega healthy relationship is probably still going on. The same goes for that rookie player who is trying to get in your pants when you’re the same age as the over-agers! Of course he’s going to tell you that his former girlfriend was the same age as you, so you won’t feel like the Mayor of Slumsville that you so obviously are!

8. “Do you need tickets for tonight’s game?”

This is the hockey player’s attempt to own you. Some guys buy you flowers and dinner, hockey players attempt to wow you with the tickets that they get for free – cheap bastards! If you are too weak to pass up the tickets (I’ll admit that it’s my personal variety of crack), then be prepared for the follow up request of “payment.”

7. “I like your picture.”

Those of you that read my book, Down the Rabbit Hole: A Guide to Puck Bunnies will know that puck bunnies usually track down their prey online. That being said, it doesn’t take much more than a decent profile picture to get the attention of the hockey genus. Puck bunnies everywhere should strongly consider getting a few glam shots taken in their pursuit of hockey related copulation. The fleshier the pictures, the better.

6. “I was lucky enough to get my own room, so you can crash there.”

Don’t be fooled, this is not a nice gesture. One night I was out with my friend and we were bombarded with hockey players. Ten minutes later they had pumped about ten drinks into us. Suddenly, my thoughts turned to how I was going to drive home in this state. That’s when buddy here decided to chime in. Naturally, I feigned gratitude for the offer, but I wasn’t stupid drunk yet. Right away he got excited and whispered, “So…when do you want to go?” Umm, we were in the bar for all of fifteen minutes at that point. Easy there, tigre. (That wasn’t a typo, I said “tigre” – it’s French) P.S. I feel like I’ve told you this story before…

5. “You can Google me.”

Remember your NHL Draft day? The day that made you feel like the sky was the limit? That you could be hoisting the Stanley Cup within the year if you played your cards right? Well, now you’re in your fourth season in the A, and nothing is going your way. You have never played an NHL game, and never make it past the second cut in training camp. Poor thing. How is the hockey dud supposed to pick up the puckies? Naturally, he has to lie. He has to prey on the know-nothing puck bunnies in hopes that they are too stupid to notice that he’s never been on the roster. Naturally, Google is his only friend, as his prospect pictures will come up and prove to her that he is worth a damn.

4. “You and me sex? I flight next week.”

We Canadian hockey fans love to believe that our nation is what makes this game great. Yeah, it probably is, but let’s not forget some of the European countries that have contributed greatness to the league and the Hockey Hall of Fame – the Russians, the Czechs, the Swedes, the Finns, etc. What would our game be like without them? Unfortunately, off the ice, these guys have little in terms of skill. This has a lot to do with the fact that there is no room for subtly where the language barrier is concerned, as you can plainly read.

3. “I didn’t get a goal tonight, but I feel like I could score right now.”

OK, you got me! I’ve never actually heard this pick up line; so much as I’ve fantasized about it. I BET you’d love to know who skated into my dreams with this cheesy line!

2. “Do you drive?”

Here’s another helpful hint for the junior hockey groupie. Want to know the secret to finding out if a junior hockey player likes you, or, at least, likes your picture? If he does he will ask you if you drive or have a car. This means that he is already assessing your ability to get to him as soon as his billets fall asleep, so that he can sneak away with you into the scandalous darkness of a nearby, abandoned parking lot. Well done!

1. “I play hockey.”

One of the most common Canadian pick up lines used by both hockey players and non! In this country, if you play hockey, it means that you are entitled to something, and by “something,” I mean p****! You’d be surprised how often this works…not on me…but on many. For further examples, check out: Since when did, “I play hockey” become a pick up line?

Posted in Hockey Players, Top 10 Tuesday, mating game, puck bunnies | 8 Comments »

Sunday, August 16th, 2009

Off season is dating season!

When the hockey season ends, many players head home for a summer of relaxation, shinny, and catching up with their hometown girls WINK. After I posted my Ragetastic entry yesterday, I was inspired to share a G-rated Ragetastic Voyage of my own. Well it’s not very Ragetastic, or a voyage for that matter. It’s more like what I can only imagine is in a hockey player’s top ten for worst possible things that can happen on a date. I figure it’s OK if I talk about it since training camp is only a few weeks away, so if the guy reads this blog, then he’ll be out of town soon enough and I’ll be safe until next summer. Here’s my story.

It was the off season, and I was headed a couple hours outside of Toronto to visit my friend for the weekend. We had planned to go out to one of the two bars in town that night. She took me to this intense country bar, and I introduced her to the Awesome (a drink my friend made up: Amaretto, pineapple, and cranberry – tastes like candy!). After I’ve had a couple Awesomes, I noticed this guy just STARING at me. He looked familiar, so I was trying to figure out how I knew him, and it looked like he was trying to do the same. Finally I realized he was one of the Leafs. He must have recognized me from my brief stint with MLSE because you KNOW I definitely don’t go to enough Leafs games for him to recognize me that way!

Anyway, once I realized he was a Leaf, my peripheral suddenly expanded and I noticed that there were about fifty hockey players standing right in front of me. As it turned out, the local OHL hockey team was having their alumni reunion that weekend, which was funny because that summer I think I crossed paths with about three different teams’ reunions – including the night before. A few of the guys talked to me that night, which led to a lot of irritating messages during the season whenever their team beat the Flyers. However, I was lucky that the Flyers did finally win one of the match ups.

One guy was from Toronto, and he wanted to “go out sometime.” So, two weeks later we went out for drinks, etc. (Don’t get excited that’s not a scandalous “etc”). The drinks went well until we had to leave and I ran into one of my sorority sisters – eek. I don’t like to introduce dates to people I know until I’m sure if I like them or not – definitely not a first date thing. (I’m eccentric, whatever. Are you just figuring this out now?) After drinks, we went to another place to get dessert where I was forced to set my phone on silent so he wouldn’t notice my friend texting, “Who’s the hot guy?!?!?!” every five seconds.

We were being seated in a backyard patio, so we didn’t see who our waitress was until it was too late – too late for him that is haha! Our waitress comes over and, to my surprise, they know each other. He didn’t look impressed, but he was being civil. So, we order our dessert and beverages and she takes off. Naturally, I had to ask him what that was all about. He says, “She was one of the puck bunnies back in [OHL team city]. *lowers voice* You know, one of the baaaad ones.” I started laughing and told him we could go somewhere else if he was uncomfortable. He didn’t want to go and began regaling me with tales of the girl’s (and her friend’s – he claimed that the bad puck bunnies always travel in twos) extra-curricular activities…if you catch my drift. He only interrupted himself every so often to lie to me and tell me that TSN just announced that they traded my Flyers crush to the Kings to piss me off. Apparently, it’s unpatriotic of me not to follow a Canadian team – you can probably guess where he plays (or played at the time).

The waitress was definitely rattled by the fact that he was on a date as well. She was reading a lot into the situation, and you know she was hiding in the kitchen texting her partner in crime and telling her how ugly and gross I looked lol. We had each ordered our own dessert, but she only brought out one. She obviously assumed we’d want to be coupley and share – boo, I wanted to eat all the cake! Grumpy. Way to make my evening even more awkward than it already was.

If the puck bunny situation wasn’t bad enough for the guy, he was crashing and burning on top of it. This guy was pulling out all the lines. The “you’re so much different than other girls,” and some others that are so embarrassing, I can’t even type them or remember them with a straight face. One of the best parts was when he assumed that I must read a lot, and tried to convince me that he is the same way. He told me there was this book he was planning to read someday haha, which, I’m not going to lie, it did mildly impress me at the time. It sounded like a ridiculously long textbook-esque book that I don’t think I’d ever touch in a million years, and definitely wouldn’t read for pleasure while I was in the height of my university career.

The end of the night was the most awkward part, though. While walking back to the cars, buddy has his arm around me and wouldn’t you know that I would run into the guy that I was currently (mildly) into – noooooooooo! To make it more uncomfortable, he was too scared to even try to kiss me. But he was trying to desperately work up the nerve. We were seriously standing there for twenty minutes (awkward) while he was concentrating intensely on how to make his attack. I was naturally standing there with my most taunting Clint Eastwood make-my-day face. Twenty minutes later he finally gave up and settled for the hug haha! He is still scared of me to this day, but continues to entertain me with his “romantic” lines.

So, that’s my story. What? I told you this was a G-rated adventure, and I didn’t mean that in the, “there’s actually an X-rated version that I’m keeping to myself” way. After all, I’m not one of the “bad ones.” Until next time…keep your stick on the ice.

Posted in Hockey Players, mating game, off season, puck bunnies | 4 Comments »

Saturday, July 25th, 2009

Mating Game 101: Hockey for every situation.

Maybe it’s the anthropology student in me, but I am absolutely fascinated by two social groups of the non-hockey variety: metal heads and groupies of any kind. Last night I got to hang out with the amateur band groupie at a metal show – eeeee!

At the last minute I decided to accompany my friend and her fellow “band aide” to a show at the Bovine Sex Club in Toronto. The show was intense. I love metal heads. They are diehard about the music. I love watching the head banging. Typically, I don’t like that in non-metal heads. People that are one-dimensional about a specific genre of music or a specific band – you know the type. The type of people that judge you if you haven’t heard about such and such indie group or if you admit to enjoying a Top 40 hit. And while we’re on the subject of music, what’s up with those fake girls that pretend to like whatever music their boyfriend or crush does? Seriously, are they so insecure that they think their relationships can’t work if they don’t listen to the same music ALL THE TIME? You never see guys do this, “I’m really into this girl so I went out and bought her favourite Britney album so I can peer into her soul and have something in common with her.” Right. Probably the same broads that get implants and “work done” in their early twenties. Anyway, although metal heads are very intense about the music, it is a common mistake made by the groupies (it seems) that these guys are all music all the time – as I found out last night.

The girls developed crushes on the drummer and guitarist of one of those scary screaming metal bands we saw that night. As my friend began her mating game with the drummer, my wingwoman senses perked up as I heard their conversation become exhausted after the, “What are your favourite bands?” approach. He was getting away so I had to intercept with my “dazzling” conversational skills haha. I tend to distract people with bizarre choices for conversation topics like, why bad movies are actually good, how serial killers become sexy, and a stand up routine I like to call, My Spanish Grandmother. As our conversation turned to sports injuries of our childhood, he mentioned taking a slap shot to neck. This inevitably turned to the hockey discussion and team affiliations:

Me: So what’s your favourite team then?
Drums: *fan pride* BUFFALO SAAAAAABRES!!
Me: Hmm I can live with Buffalo.
Drums: Haha I fuuuuckinnnnn HATE the Leafs!!!
Me: Me too! I used to work for them!
Drums: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! *grabs both my hands like an excited little girl* (seriously, that happened).

After that we talked about various showdowns between the Flyers and the Sabres. And just like that I got my chicklets invited to hang out with the band after the show thing. I promised my friend I would take her to a couple games this season so she could learn a thing or two, so hockey can save her in practically every pick up situation…even in the dark underground bowels of the gothic metal scene (apparently). There were people at this club with fangs painted on their faces – awesome! Anyway, I guess it shouldn’t come as a complete shock that metal heads and hockey would go hand and hand. After all, apart from Guns N’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle, the most common song played at hockey rinks across the continent is Metallica’s Enter Sandman.

This is off the topic of hockey, but still worth mentioning. Later that night, while we were all waiting to leave, I had to come to the rescue of the other girl who was in the presence of the guitar player of her current fantasy. She was shy. I remember having to steer the conversation back in the day when my bunny friends were crashing and burning before the “hockey gods.” This time, however, NASCAR was the secret. I noticed the guitar player holding a pair of #8 sandals.

Me: Eww who’s the Junior fan?
Guitar: Not me, I fuuuuuckinnnnnnn hate Junior.
Me: That’s good. I grew up in a Jeff Gordon house.
Guitar: I have a pair of #24 sandals in the van, want to see?
Me: Uhh sure.
Guitar: Hold my hand while we skip over to the van. *Grabs my hand and starts skipping* Sure enough he dug them out of the van and showed me the sandals, but I was concerned as to why he had them, as he did not possess the #8 sandals for wholesome reasons (they were the footwear of a blow up sex doll).
Me: OK do you have these because you actually like Gordon?
Guitar: No, I don’t give a shit about Jeff Gordon. He’s like the Wayne Gretzky (hockey again) of NASCAR.
Me: Hmm…I guess he is, but he wasn’t back in the day when I was in grade nothing.
Guitar: Yeah, for sure, it meant something to be a fan back then.
Me: Mmm hmm and who do you like? Let me guess, “*mocking girly voice*Ooh Kayce Kahne. He’s sooooo dreamy! I’d like to pit lizard it up all over him.”
Guitar: NO!!! I fuckin hate Kayce Kahne! I like *fan pride* JIMMIE JOHNSON!

Sure he does.

Anyway, had I decided to succumb to ways of the band aide, I would have pursued the handsome lead singer. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to talk to him while the girls were torn between drums and guitar. However, he did hold on to my hand rather tightly while I was attempting to rescue him from a crowd surfing incident gone horribly wrong. Come to think of it, there was a lot of hand holding going on that night – how sweet.

Posted in bands, groupies, hockey fans, mating game, metal, nascar fans | No Comments »

Friday, February 13th, 2009

This is why you don’t get into cars with strange boys.

Once more, in keeping with the spirit of Valentine’s Day, today’s entry will look at a tale of love gone wrong on the road.

My recent trip to Columbus was doomed from the start. After receiving a cancellation from my friend (who’s boss threatened to fire her for even dreaming of taking Boxing Day off), I was at a loss to find a replacement so last minute, and at the height of the holiday season. I’ve realized now that in a lot of the American markets, it is very difficult to sell extra tickets. It’s not like Toronto wherein the worst seats will still induce heated bidding wars! So, I decided to brainstorm the best way to make use of this extra seat. I was feeling amorous, so the most enticing idea was to find and lure a hot boy that would otherwise be way out of my league at home and take him to the game. I was on a mission!

And that mission was surprisingly easy! My biggest fear was that Columbus would be a bit of a dog park (like certain other destinations that shall remain nameless), but low and behold, my waiter at dinner was definite eye candy. He had one of those movie star smiles. So, I asked him out (in a roundabout way) to hang out after his shift. He told me his shift ended at midnight, and I agreed to meet him back there at that time. However, just as I was leaving he dropped a major bomb that I should have taken as a clue to walk away and not come back. He referred to himself as a student, which seemed fine at first, but then I realized that “students” everywhere but U of T are no older than 21! He was a baby!!

I went back to my room to check in on the Flyers/Blackhawks game that was in progress in Chicago and had a bit of a laugh over their travelling problems that day *tee hee* – welcome to my world, boys! Anyway, so the clock struck midnight and I went back to junior’s place of employment. He wasn’t alone now. His “ride” also known as his “housemate” was there (who was also cute). Apparently, this favourite bar of his was actually close to their house, which was not walking distance from there – I kept forgetting that four miles wasn’t the same as four kilometres!

So, now I’m getting into a car with two strange boys that I don’t know. You know those girls that turn up murdered because they were hitchhiking and got picked up by strange men. Yeah, that would be me. During this five minute car ride, both boys felt that they should partake in a couple beers and a bit of the wacky tobaccy! Yes, they couldn’t wait five minutes until they got home! Luckily, the window was open and my hair didn’t get ruined. My whole hockey life started to flash before my eyes. I knew all too well what would happen to me if these guys were to get pulled over!

I was out for dinner the night before one of the Flyers games in Toronto last season. There was this odd couple sitting next to us. The woman was one of those sweet-looking, closeted little things, and the guy was this big grotesque beast that was trying to splash his money around as a way to come off as a total high roller. His conversation turned to his love for New York City (big surprise), to which the woman began the harrowing story behind her inability to legally enter the States. Apparently, on a road trip with friends (by the way, the tables were really close together I wasn’t trying to eaves drop), a routine car search turned ugly when one of the passengers was revealed to be carrying a “thumbnail” size amount of hash. All of the passengers were banned from crossing the border. Much to the distress of her (clearly) lavalife date, he wouldn’t be able to further his big pimpin’ spree by offering to show her the bright lights of Broadway from the comfort of his private jet.

From the back seat of the only car I have ever seen dirtier than mine, this story began to play back in my mind over and over and over again. I wasn’t worried so much about prison; my major concern was the status of my passport! What would I, the psycho hockey addict, do if I couldn’t cross the border on a biweekly basis? I wouldn’t even be able to go to hockey games in Buffalo! I’d be limited to six regular season Flyers games a year! That’s just unacceptable. I would die a thousand slow painful deaths! I started examining the handles on the door of the car trying to formulate some type of escape tactic, but then the vehicle came to a halt and we were home safe. Well safe enough. I still had to deal with the two infants.

Their house was like every frat house I have ever seen (except Delta Upsilon –Toronto), and this alleged awesome bar was totally dead! After playing a couple courtesy rounds of pool (which revealed all kinds of horrific truths, such as, “I was born in 1987!” – he was a “hockey player” too, by the way), I made my escape. It wasn’t easy they were trying to lure me with promises of golfing (real golfing) the next day, and I got that extremely close lean in that guys do that is practically impossible to resist. Ahh! Hockey…must…think…hockey. I couldn’t run the risk of travelling around in a car with open booze and narcotics, so I got in my cab (after declining the offer to crash at their place where an inevitable gang bang would have ensued) and headed back to my hotel – alone.

The next day, I sold my extra ticket to a scalper for a measly twenty bucks! I was told if I didn’t like that to “call my husband!” Anyway, after the Flyers had their asses handed to them by the Blue Jackets, I headed out for a walk down High Street. About three blocks away from the Arena District, High St. becomes really shady, like Market and 22nd (Philadelphia) shady. Every guy I passed was trying to pick me up in a way that came across as menacing. Finally I decided to turn around and head home before I started flipping off every car that stopped to talk to me. While I was waiting for the lights to change, another guy stopped because he wanted to take me out. (I’m sorry but do girls ever say yes to these guys?) I told him I wasn’t from there, and he said “Yeah, your accent sounds Russian or something.” Uhhh, you mean, Canadian?

Back at my hotel room I pranced around in my underwear feeling sorry for myself that I was the only one who got to see it. The next day I went home to start the countdown to my next adventure.

Posted in female hockey fans, mating game, road trips | 2 Comments »

Thursday, February 12th, 2009

Since when did, “I play hockey” become a pick up line?

Maybe it’s all in my head, but when I go out on the town, I seem to be a beacon for quote unquote “hockey players.” Now it’s not exactly my style to wear NHL paraphernalia while I am attempting to strut my stuff around the club district. So, visually there is no way for these men to know that I am a hockey addict (and truthfully my knowledge of the game has proven to completely annihilate their swagger at times). This means that the “hockey player” approach to scoring 101 is being used on any and every woman as a lazy attempt to get laid.

Remember the good old fashioned days when a guy would tell you he loved you and then never call you again? Remember how he tried to trick you into thinking that it was going to be all about you? Why can’t the mating process be romantic like that anymore? Now women have to deal with hot shot wannabes and Central leaguers marching up to them and saying, nay, demanding, “I play hockey! Blow me!” Like possessing a basic understanding of stick handling makes them entitled – ha! So, in the spirit of the upcoming holiday of love, I would like to take a look at a few of my favourite/worst pick up attempts from alleged hockey players.

I’d like to start by looking at the night of my twentieth birthday. I was wearing the infamous stripper shirt, and I was about five tequila shots beyond smashed. That was the night I grew out of the university drinking phase that all students go through to some degree. The hangover was so bad that I vowed I would NEVER drink again. I even went a whole year without drinking anything! And, for the most part, I have not consumed more than two or three drinks in one sitting since then. Except in Montreal this season, but that’s another story! Anyway, I was dancing (possibly on a pole), when a guy comes up to me claiming to be one of the Calgary Flames. Little did he know that I A) follow hockey, B) make good use of my Center Ice package, and C) know what this guy actually looks like. “Uhh, no you’re not.” Hahaha! He didn’t even say anything in response, he just ran away with his tail between his legs – good times.

NHL players seem to promote this kind of misrepresentation. Some of them provide their “buddies” back home with extra/old copies of their NHL cards, so that they can go around pretending to be them. Honestly, though, how stupid are some of the girls that fall for this? “Oh you play hockey in Nashville? Well, it makes total sense that you are in northern Alberta in the middle of February then!” *unbuttons shirt*

More recently, this past January, I was out with a couple of my girl friends when a group of “hockey players” approached us and helped themselves to the empty seats at our table. The ringleader was the stereotypical hockey wannabe. He was wearing a hockey lace around his wrist because it was from a “team I was on that made it really far in the playoffs – third, no, second in the country!” Make up your mind, junior! Of course, I had to respond with, “If you ain’t first, you’re last!” He didn’t appreciate this comment, though he did get the reference. He then went off spewing some bull about being drafted by the Toronto Maple Leafs in the seventh round and that he was playing on scholarship somewhere in the States. Not only was this guy NOT drafted by the Leafs, he didn’t even play for that school. If you’re going to lie about being a hockey player, then at least pretend that you play somewhere good, like buddy did at my birthday party!

The funny thing about this guy was that it seemed like he had this whole thing rehearsed with one of his wingmen. At one point the second guy chimed in with, “You were smarter than I was (for getting a scholarship), I shouldn’t have played in the O.” (OHL players cannot play in the NCAA). OK, I don’t even know where to begin with this self proclaimed major junior hockey star. The wingman can only be described as the nonthreatening type – a lover of poetry with a passion for crash diets, puppies, and MTV reality dramas. There was no way! There was just no way!

At one point, my friend heard the ringleader say to his friends, “I want to take these broads upstairs!” OK, Junior Hockey Bible, what exactly did you think you would accomplish on the upper level of the bar? Apparently, he thought there was a “d-floor” (dance floor) up there and he wanted us to “hit” it. Uh, no, I’m afraid this Olde English pub is lacking the standard disco ball and strobe lights – that’s a shame. Moving on.

So, I probably seem like a total bitch that shoots down any guy that comes near me, and that’s just not true. Along the way there have been real hockey players /non-liars that I don’t ridicule because they are who they claim to be. Even if some of their attempts were also lame, it’s just not as interesting because they aren’t posing. The fact that this constant posing exists, and, moreover, that it works, is just more proof of the magnitude of hockey culture. And for the record, I did let one guy get passed (eventually – I’m not some bar hussy). He was not a hockey player by my definition; meaning he didn’t play in a league that paid him enough money to not require off season employment. But he was lip bitingly gorgeous – a combination of Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Paul Walker only way hotter. I even blurted out “WOW, YOU’RE CUTE!” when he first came over to talk to me. Oh, boy.

Anyway, back to the posing. I have also seen this occur in non-scoring situations. While I was working for Maple Leaf Sports, I was assisting the Promo Team at a sales event they were doing in Oakville, ON. An eighteen year old kid peacocks his way over to us claiming that he’s too good to play in the AHL and that he’s going straight to the NHL. Did I mention he was eighteen, and the draft was seriously THAT day! I started drilling him on certain things, and the stuttering began. He claimed to play for the Ottawa 67s, and when I asked him his name he hesitated and ran away. I don’t need to tell you that he wasn’t anywhere to be found in the Hockey DB! He kept walking by all weekend waving at us like he was the hottest shizzz that ever lived. So hilarious, but not the first time I’ve witnessed this either.

Fake hockey players are popping up all over internet communities like Facebook and MySpace. Of course, I’ve come across several of these, but there are three that really stand out. The first was a guy who was drafted in the low rounds of the OHL Priority Selection. He never made the team and was actually playing junior C during the season. On top of sucking at hockey, he was also not attractive. So, instead of using his own pictures, he was using pictures of a renowned OHL ladies’ man – creepy, I know.

The second was a goalie who claimed to be in the Washington system, but playing in Europe. He claimed that he knew that next season he’d be playing in Washington (don’t ask me how he knew that), and that he was just in Europe for the year. By the way, this was not during the Lock Out. Anyway, he was fully trying to put me on; claiming that he was a huge football fan, and that he had seasons tickets to the Patriots, and that he flies in for the games (from Europe) if he doesn’t have a game – essentially, living the high life. Once again, not in the DB!

The third was an American Hockey League player (that’s nothing to sneeze at), that didn’t bother posting his picture online, but told the girls he was trying to cheat on his girlfriend with to “google” him! And it worked! He also was the first to lie to the girls claiming that he played for the big club, when, in actuality, he is STILL waiting for his first NHL game. *sigh* Silly boys. What would I do without you?

*The picture is of Boston Bruins forward, Blake Wheeler. Get it? Wheeler?

Posted in Hockey Players, mating game, puck bunnies | 4 Comments »

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