The Place Where I Work: Casting The Net

Previously, I've written about a magical place that I sometimes work at, where we watch soccer and about 85% of the dudes are HOT (check the I *heart* Dudes and Near Death and Ass Play blogs for reference).
I am working in that magical soccer place again today, and it truly has been magical. For one reason or another I've felt pretty glum about the whole me and dudes thing...and I can't turn to lesbianism because I don't like women that much, and I hate dudes but they are dudes...and I can't be a nun because I am pervy and like to curse, plus I like dudes. Just going through this hopeless thing where I feel hideous and that I am not as sexy as I think.
Again, its just a moment. By the end of the week I'll be back to promoting my loveliness and fantastic capabilities.
For now...I have the dudes here at the magical place to remind me that things will be alright with the world.
...of course then there's Justin Fingerbang who acts like most dudes and wants nothing to do with me because My Future Ex (his competition) is no longer here so I am no longer a hot commodity. *sigh* He is still hot though, in that douchey-yet he has a great ass kinda way.
In to save the day is none other than The Matador. Remember when I thought he disliked me- well just had no use for me, but tolerated me because Dracul was enamored. I was wrong! The Matador seemed almost gleeful I was back. He with his stylish trench coat-collar up, pink tie, cashmere cobalt blue sweater and slim grey slacks. Love a guy who can put together colors, yet not be a total pretty boy. The Matador is man, a man of Brazilian decent- I only know this cuz he thought I was Brazilian (really? people? COME ON!) and I had to sadly let him know I wasn't, but he could pretend I was. He liked that.
The Matador was just the friendliest guy ever today, a total 180 from before. I wonder if Dracul hypnotized him to treat me better- saw Dracul around 4:45pm today. That guy never fails to amaze with his vampire-like ways.
Everyone loves The Matador too because he is just really nice, but not phony with it-suddenly am thinking of Brazilian cheese bread. Ugh. Am hungry!!!! Had soup for lunch today because I was sooo hungry I couldn't think of anything else to eat.
Justin Fingerbang looked on in disbelief as I crumbled a corn muffin into my bisque- so delish! I explained to him that I forgot to get breakfast, just had coffee. He still didn't understand. I told him it was sooo good because I was having a shrimp n' roasted corn n' pepper bisque. He still wasn't getting it, so I kindly asked him to walk away- in my head I was thinking...so I can look at your ass. *sigh*
Anywho, The Matador knew where my head was at- it could also be that I am wearing fishnets. Something about fishnets causes certain men to feel a certain way.
Like, I am walking to Starbucks to get afternoon coffee and I get hit on by this German-Brit who works for Google. He was bold, and because of his accent, I believed him when he told me I was beautiful.
Awww. I'm telling you, if I didn't have on fishnets- no dudes. No random international geeky playboys trying to holler. No Matadors being so unbelievably great that I consider- OH DAMN.
Justin Fingerbang is really something. He purposely starts this conversation about team sports with this chick who claims she is a natural athlete. Good on her. I was more interested in hearing about JF playing soccer and how he works out at the 92nd Y- note to stalker self, new hang out. They go on and on, and I stay silent because I am typing this and have no interest....except when I stop and think about JF in cleats...or when he's all sweaty...or when its time to hit the showers. Mmmm....where...where am I?
OH. So yeah. They wait for me to join in. This has happened to me here before. Peeps were talking about marathon running and I just sat quietly n' listened, waiting till someone mentioned mac n' cheese.
Finally they had it. I was asked if I played any sports. I said none I cared to mention at work. Blank stares. I play volleyball and bocce ball. They seemed pleased and asked where I play. I specify that's its beach volleyball and that I fly out to San Diego to play with my team. We're called: Ball Deflators. I get a lot of wows and that's cool. I nod and say I know.
Damn. Why do people make me lie?? All, I'm trying to do is live my life. My life where I jog aggressively for trains and sprint across streets to procure hot dudes. We all can't be athletes...and we all can't be as sexy as me.
Oh snap. I'm back baby!