I could tell their eyes were on me. The girls’. Their attention was focused on my every word, my every move. On their faces were looks of admiration and adoration. Although I have been told I was Manhunt material, I never deigned to participate in such contests. I don’t need affirmation of my God-given good looks.
Not one to shy from female attention, I bestowed on them, collectively and individually, my best smiles while executing what I considered very basic hockey moves, drawing out the oohs and the aahs.
I surveyed the faces in the group and felt instant pity for them. None of the guys would make it to my league and none of the girls had any potential in the looks department. I am reminded of George Orwells’ “The Animal Farm”, how all animals are equal and some are more equal than others—Brenda Tay was the prize catch; these other girls merely functioned to make up the numbers.