The Truth

It has been a while since my last post, but you can forgive me hopefully, as I was busy researching for my latest instalment. The best possible way to research of course is drink plenty (not two-stroke petrol though, that's just silly, but you know who you are), watch ridiculous amounts of sport and give out about women with standards. So with all the excitement/trepidation of Daniel Timofte about to take a penalty, I will once more enlighten you all with my meandering thoughts and findings!


Aside from this exemplary research the past couple of weeks have proven to me once again (and this is hardly ground-breaking news to anyone of you), that sport and the art of chasing/wooing a woman have one very big factor in common. Lies.


Yes ladies and gentlemen, its true.....Lying is the bedrock of everything we do. As players and spectators of sport, we lie to ourselves all the time, be it from our state of fitness, to our stringent denials about being on the beer before a match to kidding ourselves that this year will be our teams year (which is ever more true if you, like me, support the twin terrors of Liverpool and Mayo...).


The thing is that while we will lie in sport to make ourselves feel better or just to win an argument, we will tell even worse lies once it comes to the opposite sex. Be they from telling someone that you won the 7.15 race that night at the Punchestown Festival (in my defence she was very good looking, and it wasn't me that started the untruth. But I digress), to lying about how someone looks, we will truly say anything to get se.....to hold hands- even if it is just for one night. In fact especially if it is for just one night.


You lie to yourself that that girl was looking at you, or that you had a chance with the hot blonde, or that surely there is no way that she can fail to be impressed by me just standing there staring at her!


But it is not just lads that are the worst offenders. Oh no. Have you ever heard a girl describe her friends to a guy? It is amazing how gorgeous looking every woman's friend is, isn't it? This is also where the absolute nightmare that is the blind date comes into play. When you're a single lad with female friends, you are ripe for these lies. And as bad and all as we know "dating" can be, a blind date is ten times worse. The problem is that they already know something about you, so you can never be sure what lies you can get away with this time....

The Dating Game

I understand sport, I don't understand women.


As alien as training is to your average junior C footballer, or a system other than 4-4-2 is to soccer teams in this country, I believe that dating is even more of a mystery to the Irish male.
Now maybe I'm just being cynical, but I truly believe that many of the ills of our society are down to American television and its tentacles which have wrapped their way around the minds of all young people in Ireland and across the world.
Of course American television has brought many, many good things to this world, (the Olsen twins to name but two), but it has also resulted in ridiculous expectations being placed on our menfolk by women, and in particular with regard to relationships.
Dating is probably the most prevalent of these expectations, and lets face it most Irish men are as about as useful as Peter Stringer in the front row of a scrum when it comes to this ritual.
First of all, its not the way we were brought up....nothing our fathers went through in their heyday can really prepare us for the trauma of a "date". I mean can you imagine being sat down by your père and being guided through the minefield of what constitutes a good date.... Not happening is it?
The question remains, are Irish men suited to going on a date? Sure some of the finer members of my brethren take to it like a duck to water but I think many of us are programmed to the more gentile forms of finding women....getting plastered and getting a shift, followed by a number at the end of the night, and seeing where that goes. Hardly classy but its seems to have worked in the past and why can't that continue?
But no, now its all about dating and trying to make the perfect date, and trying to work out should I met her there or collect her and bring her to wherever there is. The cinema, the pub, a restaurant, geo-caching????
The first date is really the equivalent of pre-season training for men- not something that we want to do, we probably feel we don't really need it, but know in the back of our minds that its best to get it over and who knows it may be of benefit to us later on in the season.....  

In love with Sport

Birds do it, bees do it, apparently even the educated Siphonaptera do it. Yes everyone is blogging, or so it would seem anyway. So to jump on the bandwagon that already looks like an overcrowded train at rush hour in Tokyo, I have decided to join the much heralded blogosphere.

I suppose the title of the blog does obviously indicate that sports are a passion, and you wouldn't be far wrong. In fact they are probably more of an obsession to be fair. Having said that though, this blog will hopefully be more than just my thoughts on the latest action from La liga, the Rugby World Cup, the World Snooker Championships or indeed the latest round of Speedway, but I will also be writing about something of which I have absolutely no clue.......women.

You see I am a 28 year singleton with a lousy track record with women and given that I do admire them very much and would enjoy meeting more of them to perhaps distract me from the latest round of the Alpine Skiing World Cup or the Premier League Darts race, I will also be writing about my (most likely futile) attempts at finding love. Or even a snog every now and again. Don't worry names shall remain nameless if you will!! 

Anyway I hope that it will prove entertaining enough that you may want to read more or even tell your friends about it.

Chat soon,

Cormac.