Toronto, ON If there’s one thing more irritating than people assuming all female hockey fans are puck bunnies, then it’s definitely people assuming that all female hockey fans are discarded puck bunnies. Am I right, ladies? I don’t know how many times in my life I’ve been at the bar, watching the game, and muttering in disgust under my breath over a play I didn’t enjoy, or the like. And I don’t know how many times in my life those mutterings have been misinterpreted by the idiots wasting the perfectly good air all around me by breathing.
“Oh, let me guess,” they would chime in. “You slept with him once and he never called you back?”
“No, actually he just missed his fourth pass of the period, and that offends me…” Of course, it’s hard to let something like that roll off your back. I mean, the guy pretty much just said you look like the kind of girl that most guys wouldn’t bother to treat with any sort of respect or decency. Naturally, the only way YOU could be mad at a hockey player is if he, in a brief moment of desperation/drunkenness/you name it, decided to do you a favour, and slip one in between your pipes. When it comes down to it, the assumption seems to be that most female hockey fans are motivated by sex. We go to games because we are fucking, have fucked, or would like to fuck one or more of the players. Period.
Make no mistake about it, the players make plenty of assumptions of their own. It seems as though, if you are a half decent looking female, or at least OK looking enough to get a pity fuck in a moment of boredom, then you have probably been the target of such assumptions. It seems almost like only “ugly” women are allowed to be hockey fans and free of all judgement and assumptions.
I remember one particular hockey player way back during the last Lockout that likes to believe that I was/am in love with him. I remember it like it was yesterday. I had gone down to see his team play for the first time ever, and clearly I had caught his attention because he wouldn’t stop staring at me. As time went on, however, it appeared as though this guy had just made the assumption that, since he is “sooo much hotter” than everyone else on the team, that I naturally had only started following the team BECAUSE of him.
Now, I’m not going to lie, all the attention from this guy did have me intrigued, and it still does to this day. I still like to pop into a game from time to time just because it’s still quite amusing. Unfortunately, some years ago things went to shit. I said some things. He acted like a little bitch, and decided to start making up lies to make himself feel like a big man – which apparently he still does according to the lovely commentary left on my blog from some waste of life in Ottawa. I went from being the object of HIS attention (that’s how I see it, at least) to being the girl he (you guessed it) slept with once and wouldn’t go away. The problem is, when it comes to dealing with professional athletes, what they say becomes automatic fact. As women, our word isn’t worth shit.
By the way, that whole sleeping with thing is a lie, which is funny if you consider how it is I ended up following his team all those years ago. I don’t want to be a stereotype or accurate assumption, but I actually was screwing one of his teammates. That guy was really something. He was my favourite hockey player at that point in my life, which made it hard to stop being a fan even after things dissolved. So I guess if I was following anyone, it was him, eh? Although, last time I checked, attending hockey games isn’t just something jaded ex-lovers turned stalkers do, hockey fans do it, too. Shocking…
Anyway, sorry for my little rant there. As you can see, when I go away to the spa for two days, I come back feeling less relaxed. Oh well. Serves me right for spending my entire massage this morning talking/complaining about hockey. As for the hockey player who inspired today’s rant (and clearly still reads this site religiously), all I have to say is your lies will only serve to make yourself feel important. They can’t alter the truth, and they won’t change the past. Man up, already.