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CALLIOPE’S COLUMN

June

Who Woulda Thought Men Would Care So Much About Clothes?

I’m pretty sure athletes are built different. No, I’m not talking about their muscles or their stamina, although that can be pretty fucking impressive. No, what I’m talking about is the thing they have for clothing. Take hockey players, for instance. The men can wear the hell out of a suit. Other men—like baseball players—don’t give two shits about what they wear from the stadium to the plane. But hockey players? They’ve got special shoes and ties. They style their hair and don the cockiest smirks, knowing that everyone they come across is drooling over the way their pants stretch across their thighs.

And the one thing they’re even more feral about? Who’s wearing their jersey. And who’s not.

You want to see whether a hockey man is interested in you? Put on another man’s jersey. Holy shit. I had a front-row seat the day one gal wore her husband’s friend’s jersey to a game. Safe to say he ripped it from her body and replaced it with his own. My wife, my jersey . Yeah. That was hot.

But let me tell you, experiencing it firsthand? Way hotter.

This hockey player took one look at the jersey I was wearing—one with another man’s name emblazoned on the back—and suddenly, I was shoved into a closet, and I didn’t leave until I’d received the best orgasm of my life. All because of the name on my back.

Speaking of that night. If a gal goes for a second round with her one-night stand, and maybe a third, does that make it a relationship? What if they just keep sleeping together without putting a label on what they’re doing? Can it be considered a continuation of a one-night stand? Asking for a friend.