Playing pool with yer burd.

I have a piece of advice for young lovers, especially the ones that are experiencing the first date syndrome. Lads, do not take them to the pool hall. Lassies, do not go to the pool hall with them.

I had the privilege last night of watching two car crash dates, both involving the pool hall.
I was pishing myself watching couple number one, it went like this...... the lad sets the balls up, they toss a coin, the lad wins. He chalks his cue, takes position to break. Bang! Two balls go down, he smiles, re-chalks. Thump, thump, bang, bang, take that ya fucker. Doesn't even look at her, his eyes are squarely on the game, he wants to beat this bitch, and he will. Fucking right. Look at that double he just pulled off. There is fire dancing in his eyes, thwammo(long pot), oh perfect, she's struggling to comprehend the situation she is now in, in fact the poor cow hasn't even had a chance at getting near the table. He winks at her, she sort of grins, maybe wondering what the fuck is going on. His positioning is perfect, has been for the whole game, nothing can stop him. Now he's on the black, takes a deep breath. Twaaang! Oh, you fucked that shot pal. I smile. He is well pissed off, mutters something in Spanish and waves her on with a nonchalant gesture. This poor, little lass meekly comes to the table. It's obvious she hasn't a clue, it's in her eyes, they're crying out for help, maybe for a wee bit of guidance. I want to shout 'at least show her how to hold the fucking cue you nonce!', but he's bigger than me and looks like he could do some serious damage.
She does one of those girl type attempts, you know the one, like when girls try to catch a ball or throw something that isn't a shoe at your head. The attempt is piss poor. My autistic dead cat could've done better. That's unfair, my autistic dead cat was quite a shark with autistic dead dogs, but that's another story.
He pats her on the shoulder, chalks his cue, and thamm, the black goes down.
I was half expecting him to run around the table with his top over his head, or that he would run up to her and spit in her face and call her a cunt.
But that didn't happen.
Something much more surprising did.
He pointed his thumb at the bar, and off she went to get the round in.
I have a feeling this relationship will blossom.
Another table.
I watch this couple for two minutes, two minutes was all I needed, before I felt sick.
The balls are set, he breaks. Not a bad break.
She pots a ball, he is all smiles, condescending like. She screws the next shot.
He comes to the table, there are three easy balls, and he deliberately fucks up.
Deliberately. What a fanny.
She knows this, and this happens for the next two shots.
Please mate, stop this pretence, no matter how much you want a blow job, this is not the way to go about it.
You are looking weak and above all else, shit at pool.
Then it got me thinking, why take your girlfriend to this place, unless she can play the fucking game? What do you gain from looking like a soft sack of shit? Or a hard nut?
Don't take your girl to pool halls, unless they can play the game.
There is a reason why there is mens' tennis and womens' tennis and a separate tour for men and women when it comes to golf, and any other sport that you care to mention. Men are better at it.
Apart from curling, but that is just sweeping floors, so I can understand why women tend to be a bit better than blokes at sweeping an ice floor.
I'm not sexist, bbbuuuuuttttttt it's pretty fucking obvious, there is a difference when it comes to sport.
Professionals don't mix, so why do we bother?
To have fun? There are hundreds of other ways to have fun, but please not with with sport. It only serves two types; the arse and the ponce.

Time to go, my wench is calling.
I have a feeling I'm in trouble.