Don’t Hate the Player, Hate the Fans

Athletes are blessed not only with their fan base, but with groupies as well. Ok, wipe that smirk off your face, I know your thinking about Tiger Woods, Brett Favre, and Tony Parker, the most recent men to be caught on the defence (so to say). But the truth is, many athletes have it made. It’s almost too easy for them thanks to us hot, blonde, broads who practically throw ourselves at them. Now I’m all for fun flings, whether it be with an athlete or just another suit-wearing gent you meet while holding a glass of Pinot at a bar, but when we go after these men, all while knowing their claims to fame, are we embarrassing ourselves?

I’ve sat at hotel lobby bars, been in VIP sections at cities top clubs, I’ve even just been sitting in Starbucks writing my heart out, and there in front of me has been six plus feet of a full fledged acclaimed athlete. In the moment that it hits me who it is, I have the option to either: a) go over ask for a picture, b) flirt c) make small talk, or d) just acknowledge I’m in the presence of this person, then go on with my day. The thing is, is that I find a through c sort of sad and pathetic. They – though have unreal talent – are just one of us. Regular people who are out and about off of the court/ice/course, and just want to do their thing. How annoying it must be to be stopped here, there, everywhere when all they want to do is live. Right? So I avoid this fan-like behaviour. And though i’m sure it would be cool as hell to have a picture of me and so and so, or to have “a good story”, I personally don’t think going down to that level is worth it.

The funny thing with this shrug-of-the-shoulders way of thinking though, is they in turn are drawn to you. Surprise, surprise. So in that same club that I’m just enjoying my time with my girls over drinks and dance, there they are, approaching, flirting, offering sometimes drinks, sometimes more. I’ve had some fun times partying and coffee talking with many men of note, but I only ever snap a shot if they so beckon (which then becomes a challenge to get your little self in the same frame as them; see below). Some may call it playing hard to get, I call it class.

Can you guess who?

– Jenny Jen



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