The Rugby Team
Last week, on a Monday – my women’s social organization met up with a group of MBA Rugby players. They were from a London school, but many of them were from a number of countries, including Ireland, Italy, England, and the US. I’m still not entirely sure how we became connected to them, but it was noon on a Monday and I was really not excited to go out for a pub-crawl. One of my colleagues, someone who was part of a drinking society in college, encouraged me to look up some of the names on the roster we had been sent. I looked up a random smattering of names, and I was just dreading it even more. The men I had randomly looked up appeared to be very young – say early 20s – and not very attractive. Blurry photos, old silly photos – not the types of photos a man would use if he knew a group of women in their 20s would be looking at them. After a back-and-forth with another girl in The Madison, we decided we would go, but we would be leaving by 10 pm. Not excited, I called ...