Rugby Nation

Yo, gay ladies, we need to talk. Like, do I have to call an emergency meeting to discuss why no one told me about women’s rugby? How could I not have known about this before? I feel so betrayed. You know this is my kind of thing. I mean, just look at it – hello. Running. Throwing. Tackling. Thighs. For. Days.

This year marked the debut of women’s rugby in the Olympics. I mainlined all the matches I could yesterday. It’s fast-paced, super physical and incredibly entertaining to watch. And we know there are already out players on Team U.S.A. So, naturally, now all I want is more. Look, I know they’ve handed out all of the medals, but couldn’t they just keep playing for us? Pretty please?

Sigh. Well, at least we still have women’s soccer to watch. And you’d better believe in four years I’ll be ready and waiting for all the insane hotness and badassery that is women’s rugby.

How hot and how badass, you ask? Let me count the ways.

All the “hugs.”


The full-contact “hugs.”


The “hugging” of legs in friendship.


And real hugs.


And real hugging with legs in friendship.


Also the uplifting plays.


Really, really uplifting plays.


And, last, but not least, the butt conventions.


p.s. Did you know Olympics volunteer Marjorie Enya proposed to her girlfriend, Brazilian team rugby player Isadora Cerullo, after the final matches yesterday and everyone went nuts with joy about it? Well, now you do. (See a full set of all the adorable photos from their marriage proposal over on my Tumblr here.)