Avoiding Mr Right (18 page)

'Peta, you really have to learn to fit in, assimilate already.'
Josie just looked me up and down and shook her head.
We were manoeuvring through the masses of traffic
heading to the game. I was in black pants and polo and
my watermelon coat. I couldn't be all black at the football,
but I didn't own any footy attire and promised myself I
never would.

'What? I have to assimilate in order to be accepted?'

'That's right. They should make you do a bloody entry test
before they let you into Victoria – the Melbourne IQ test.'

'What? Like the national values test?'

'Exactly! And top of the list of values for Victorians is
commitment to football!'

'Right next to only wearing black, yeah?'

'That's right, unless you're at the football.'

'Right, got it, made a mental note. I'll pretend for now
that I'm completely committed and I'll act obsessed.'

'Good, now let me focus while I find us a parking spot.'

AFL was like a cult in Victoria. Even Shelley, the stock-broking,
Pimm's drinking shoe and bag lady, was into it,
and said I
had
to go for St Kilda while I was in Melbourne.
This evening's game was Collingwood vs. Sydney Swans,
though, so I was barracking for the Swans. Josie was a Saints
fan, too, but even she was going for Sydney tonight.

'I'm confused – how do you go for the Swans when you're
a St Kilda fan? Shouldn't you at least go for the local team
and not the Swans tonight? Sorry, but I don't get it.'

'No, see, if your own team isn't playing, then you just go
for the team playing Collingwood, doesn't matter if they're
from Sydney or West Coast or Adelaide. No-one likes
Collingwood, except for their own supporters, and they're
mongrels.'

'Oh, I'm getting it. Like everyone hates Manly in the
rugby league.'

'That's it, you've got it!'

'What about women? Are there many female supporters
at these matches?'

'Oh, yeah baby, it's really the reason I go. About fifty
per cent of AFL supporters are women, and they make up
about forty-five per cent of the crowd at games.'

'Really? That surprises me.'

'That's because you come from a rugby league state,
where female support is only about thirty-nine per cent.'

'How do you know all these stats?'

'Vested interest, love.' Josie winked at me.

There was an exhibition game with young lads before
the main match, and as we walked past the entrance to the
change rooms where the team was warming up we heard
the coach berating the aspiring players.

'Look, there are kids your age in other parts of the
world fighting for their lives, fighting for their freedom,
and all you have to do is go out and win a fucken football
match. Do you think you can do that?'

'Yes,' they responded solemnly.

'What? You can't even yell like men. DO YOU THINK
YOU CAN WIN THE FUCKEN MATCH?'

'YES!' they roared, as much from fear of the coach as
passion for the game. I didn't think I'd ever really understand
the AFL psyche, but with sports in my department's
portfolio I needed to get my head around it at least, with so
many Blackfellas in the code and at the top of their game.

There weren't many Swannies there and as we made
our way to our seats we were heckled by Collingwood
supporters. One of the other parkies had given Josie tickets
to the MCC Members Reserve. It was the best place to
watch a game from, or so Sylvia told me. I didn't really
care where we sat, I just wanted to see what all the fuss was
about.

'I'm really excited about this, Josie. I've always wanted to
go to the "M"!'

'What's the "M"?' she asked, screwing her face up.

'The MCG!'

'It's called the "G", you twit.' And we both laughed.
I really had no idea.

'Are any of your other friends coming tonight?'
I hadn't met many of Josie's friends, and wasn't even sure
if lesbians were interested in AFL as a rule, or just the
female spectators.

'Are you kidding? I couldn't get anyone else to go to a
Swans game, especially when they're playing Collingwood.
They're dogs, you just wait and see.'

Then the game started and it was all on.

'Carn the Woodies!' came the cry from an old fella sitting
a few rows behind us.

'Right, what's a woody, apart from the obvious thing?'

'You heteros only ever think about that, don't you?'

'Pretty much.'

'The Woodies are Collingwood.'

'Of course, Colling
-wood.
'

Barry Hall missed a mark for the Swans and I heard
a young boy no more than eight years old scream with
the passion of a veteran spectator: 'Send them to hell,
Collingwood!' He sat down and wrapped his 'Hot Pies'
banner around his shoulders for all those behind to see.
Then a boo from the crowd sounded throughout the stand.

'What happened there?'

'Holding the ball,' Josie said, looking straight towards
the field, not even blinking an eyelid. She was completely
into the game.

'That's not good, is it?' The Swans seemed to be down
on the scoreboard.

'It's okay, Sydney are getting their groove back, watch,'
Josie said, as Adam Goodes ran and kicked the ball further
than I've ever seen a ball travel. I elbowed her hard with
excitement even though I wasn't quite sure what was going
on. I could see red and white bodies waving streamers and
flags here and there around the stadium.

Three generations of Collingwood fans sat in front of
us: a brother and sister, their father and grandfather. Their
dad had his phone in his ear, listening to the game being
called on the radio. The kids spent their time running up
and down the stairs until the daughter fell and hurt herself.
The father didn't fuss, though – in fact, he didn't take his
eyes off the game while he rummaged through a backpack
looking for a drink bottle to appease her. Later in the game
I watched the boy clutching himself through his shorts,
saying, 'Dad, I really have to go to the toilet.' The third
time he said it, about fifteen minutes later, he finally got a
response: 'Now's not a good time, son.'

'I hope he pisses his pants,' I said to Josie.

'No, you don't want that. It will be embarrassing for him,
not the father.' She was right.

'Well, if he doesn't take him soon, I'm going to offer to
take him. That's really bad parenting. Even
I
know you have
to let them piss occasionally.'

I tried to ignore the potential pissy-pants boy, just like
his father was. There was a cheer and the Swans got a goal.

'How many points for a goal?' I asked Josie, leaning in.

'Six if you get it through the middle posts, and one point
if it goes between the outer posts,' she answered without
looking at me. She seemed to be in a trance. After a while I
started to understand how it all worked and got right into it:
when your team was winning the game really was addictive
– and so was looking at the long, lean, muscly, pumped
bodies all over the field.

Sweat glistened on biceps and glutes filled out tight
shorts and I imagined the joy of being a footy team physio
or masseur. How did women control themselves in the
locker room with all that testosterone and firm flesh? And
how hard would it be to control sexual urges when you were
rubbing the players all over? I was getting agitated at the
thought of naked men I didn't even know, wrapped in very
small towels with torsos rippling, loins in need of some deep
tissue massage and tired muscles in need of liniment.

'I'd rub it in,' I accidentally said out loud.

'What?' Josie asked without looking at me.

'I'd rub the liniment in for them, you know, in the
locker room, if I had to. If it was my job. I mean, I was just
thinking that it would be a hard job, I wasn't perving or
anything, you know, cos I have James, and he looks good
in shorts too.'

'Oh God, stop rambling. It's okay to perve, everyone
does it. Even I do.'

'You?' I was glad the emphasis had been taken off me.

'Don't be so surprised. Just because I prefer the female
form to play with doesn't mean I don't or can't appreciate
a good-looking male. And there are plenty of them out
there. Which means there's plenty of females right back
here.' She leaned back in her seat and looked around at the
women in the crowd.

I continued to stare out at the players, dreaming about
my new fantasy job as the Swans' team liniment applicator.
Before I knew it it was half-time, and we headed to the
Blazer Bar.

'Hey, I forgot to give you this.' Josie handed me a Swans
beanie and I laughed.

'Priceless, thanks.'

'Well?' she asked, looking at the beanie in my hand and
then at my head.

'Oh, you don't seriously expect me to wear it, do you?
I spent ages doing my hair this evening. I don't want
beanie hair.'

'At least put this on, then.' And she pulled a scarf out of
her bag as well. It clashed terribly with my watermelon coat,
but I wrapped it around my neck with as much glamour as
I could.

'Cheers!' We clicked our Blonde beers in a toast.
'Thanks again, Josie, this is the highlight of my Melbourne
experience so far.'

A pissed guy standing next to us decided to join our
conversation. 'Where are you from?' he asked.

'Sydney,' I said proudly, ready for the onslaught.

'No you're not!' he slurred.

'Excuse me?'

'No, you're from up further north than that. Your tan's
from up north.' I saw Josie step back in concern about how
I might react. In her job she'd learned not to let losers get
to her, and I knew she wouldn't want to deal with any
conflict while she was out socialising, so I tried to take a
leaf out of her wise book.

'I'm from Sydney, I just spend a lot of time on the
beach.' That was all he was going to get from me.

'Hey, you look like that comedian Rachel Berger,' he
said.

'Yes, apparently I do.'

'Okay, let's go over this way.' Josie dragged me away.

'Thanks for saving me from that guy.'

'Oh, I didn't, I just wanted to stand over here where all
the hot women are. Watch this. I'll get that woman there.'

'Is she gay?'

'Probably not, but I reckon I can get her to come talk
to me.'

'You're insane, but go on, I'm intrigued.'

I watched Josie concentrate in the direction of a blonde
woman with an ample breast and arse. About the same
height as Josie, she was standing with a group of friends
and enjoying her beer. I saw her notice Josie and just go on
talking. But Josie kept in direct line with her and just kept
staring. I wasn't sure what she was doing, but sure enough,
ten minutes later the woman sauntered to the bar, bought
a couple of beers and walked over and handed one to Josie.
I'd never seen anything like it.

'Don't I know you from somewhere?' she gushed.
I noticed she was wearing a wedding ring.

'I'm a parking cop in St Kilda – hope I didn't book you.'

'No, it's not that – I always obey the law.' She threw a
sleazy smile and touched Josie on the arm.

'Maybe I've seen you at Girls Bar,' Josie said.

'Oh no, I haven't been there.'

'Maybe you should.'

'Maybe I should.'

The siren sounded, signalling the game was starting
again and everyone began moving out of the bar and back
to their seats.

'How the hell did you do that? You knew her already,
didn't you?' I couldn't believe what I had just seen.

'Never seen her before in my life.'

'Seriously?'

'Seriously. It's something my old people taught me, but
sorry, I can't share it with you.'

Fair enough, I thought, but I was sure the old people
would've been teaching her how to attract men and she'd
just manipulated it slightly.

'So was wearing that sexy black top part of the strategy
to meet women too? It's great, even though it's
black
.
Where did you get it?' I touched the sleeve – it seemed a
bit thin for a wintry night out in Melbourne.

'Like it?' She ran her hands over herself. 'I bought it
yesterday.'

'Weren't you working yesterday?'

'Yeah but I go MIA all the time.'

'MIA?'

'Missing in action. Don't they use acronyms in Sydney?'

'Of course they do, I just thought that maybe the "M"
was for Melbourne something or other. So, how do you go
MIA when you're supposed to be on duty?'

'Easy, we all do it. We need to do our shopping, pay
bills, and check our email, MySpace and Facebook pages.
We only get thirty minutes for lunch, can't get much done
in that time.'

'But don't you get eight days off after each ten-day shift?'

'Yeah, but sometimes things need to be done before
the next day off. Like I needed a new top for tonight.'

'Then I suppose you never get bored at work, do you?'

'Nah, if that happens we just issue tickets.' We both
laughed, then settled back to watch the second half.

♥

'Wow, that was great. I mean the atmosphere, not the fact
that Collingwood won. I have to say I'm surprised the time
went so quickly. I didn't think I'd manage sitting through
an entire football match. It really is addictive, isn't it?'

'You mean the players are addictive.' Josie was right,
I was on my first football high – I was starving, too.

'So, where do you want to eat?' I hoped she'd have
somewhere groovy and tasty in mind, but she didn't.

'I don't care as long as I get fed.'

'God, you're rough sometimes, girl. What about just
going to a pub?'

We went back to the Prince of Wales and it was busy
enough to have a buzz to it, but not so busy that we couldn't
find ourselves somewhere to sit and order food. Scanning
the room for a table, I saw some Blackfellas sitting in a
corner, laughing and having a good time. I recognised one
as a local filmmaker and another was a photographer.