Show all the social grace of a rhinoceros as you bark out either, “What do you do for fun, then?” or, “Do you meet blokes online mostly, or just do things like this? You get to see how they look here, of course, which I reckon could save time.” No, Zane. Just no.
Speed dater Jasmine, 28, fit and blonde, who didnotturn up in Mum jeans, told me, “Honestly? Worst eight minutes of the night, other than the bloke who asked if I wanted to skip all this and go to his instead. I couldn’t decide if Zane was just here looking to hook up, but then why the fake name? Seems like he could pull easily enough after the match with the other boys on the team, and all parties could head home happy. Or do you think that’s as good as he gets?”
Ouch.
DO:
Show some actual interest. Smiling could also be an idea. Work those facial muscles!
Watch the grooming, facial-hair-wise. A haircut wouldn’t come amiss, either. Looking like you just came from the sheds after a hard workout doesn’t do much for us ladies. And all right, I’ll go there: a bit of manscaping is always appreciated. Do I know whether Zane covered that base? Bite your tongue. He’s my brother.
Have a wee peek in the windows of Rodd & Gunn for inspiration, if your wardrobe hasn’t evolved within this century. And no, your polo shirt monogrammed with thename of your engineering firm (or your sponsor-provided Adidas T-shirt) isnotcatnip for the ladies.
I ran a poll on that facial hair in order to be even more helpful in your search for love. First place: neatly trimmed heavy scruff (not just one single missed shave!) Second place: short, neat beard. Third place: clean shave, assuming you have a chin. Coming in dead last: Neckbeard that makes a woman wonder whether you clip your toenails. It’s scientific, because I wrote down the number of votes and everything.
Heavy sigh. Honestly, my brother is a prince of a guy—well, at least a jack of a guy. He’s agreed to let me pass him along to you as a bad example, hasn’t he? But alas, it’s all too obvious that he hasn’t had to work to land a woman in much too long.
Me? I came away happy with three matches (coffee dates to come!), and let’s just say that I probably look too much like my brothers. (They grow us tall and sturdy in Hawke’s Bay.) The All Black? No matches at all. Of course, I’m not sure if that’s because nobody liked him, or because he refused to check “Yes” on any of his dates and missed out on any matches from less choosy ladies.
Better luck next time, bro.
So far, Zane had had five sticks of deodorant left in his locker. Also three combs and two razors. Which was fine. He’d be set for months, and some of the boys had pretty good taste, deodorant-wise. He was willing to bet, though, that a good half of those items had come from his two younger brothers, who’d fallen all over themselves laughing and reading the story aloud in the sheds. He was sure the deodorant supply would have been even higher if he hadn’t been the skipper, and if he hadn’t had such a quelling stare.
“Why didn’t Jade ask me?” his brother Jack had asked. “I’mthe best-looking. Practically a metrosexual. I can dance and everything.”
“You wouldn’t have been as funny,” Gordon, the middle brother, had answered. “Whereas Zazza’s a natural. A natural because he’s sonota natural. You and I have some poise. Grace, even. Charm. Like that. We’d have slayed, and what would Jade have written about then?”
Marko Sendoa, the glowering flanker who tackled even harder than Zane, said, “Jealous of our manly natures, that’s what you boys are. Never mind. When you mature a bit more and actually have to shave, you may hit the mark yourselves.”
“What he said,” Zane said. “In the Rural Games, now, Marko and I would rule. The coal-shoveling comp? Gumboot throwing?”
“Speed fencing,” Marko said.
“You’re joking,” a center named Basil—nickname Bonzo—said. Australian. “You can’t know how to fence.”
“Buildingfence,” Marko said. “What d’you think we are, sophisticates? We’d have our pick of the girls after those events for all that. They wouldn’t care if we were wearing the right deodorant, either.” Which caused heaps more sledging, and some jokes about sheep.
Zane drove homenotthinking about his hair, his manscaping choices, or his conversational abilities, because he didn’t care. He thought about playing the Reds in Brisbane on Saturday instead, running through the match-day plan in his mind. In other words, he did his job.
The minute he stepped inside the house, he had to shift gears again, because Scarlett met him at the door with a determined look on her face. He was very familiar with that look, which usually accompanied the words, “Dad, you need to …”
“Dad,” she informed him before he’d even got his trainers off, “youhaveto do something about Georgia.”
