Then we went to eat something, and C mentioned there was a new Mexican place, which we eventually found. It's my mission in life to find a burrito that tastes like a Californian burritto. It hasn't happened yet, but Cortina's is lovely. It's really nicely decorated, simple, with wood and candles and a big photo of a Mexican waiter on the back wall. Latin minmalist, maybe :) And the coctails are €7.95...We went for a booth as it was relatively empty - there were four young men in the one beside it, but apart from registering that, I didn't take any notice, and forgot about them as sat and started chatting and debating mango salsa and guacamole purism.
Later on, as we ate (the burrito didn't taste like a burrito, sadly, but it was grand), I looked past C's shoulder, and suddenly the face opposite me at the other table became familiar as I had a burst of recognition, and realised it was Brian O Driscoll.
Captain of the Irish Rugby Team
As that sank in, it became apparent that the two guys sitting with their backs to me were huge, and muscled, and clearly members of the rugby team as well. They were laughing hysterically, it was really sweet. I love seeing people transported in laughter, and while they were loud, it wasn't rowdy, it made you want to laugh along too. But the thing is... all the hilarity, it made them... sort of, ripple. Planes and bulges of muscle shifting around under t shirts stretched ridiculously tight across their ridiculously ripped frames.
Ok, I'll admit, there was some (considerable) shameless ogling on my behalf, but they were drawing attention to themselves. I mean, when some six foot something behemoth is laughing so hard he's straining his shirt, and leaning into the crook of his muscly young friend's neck in helpless laughter, while his friend bends his enormous arm to touch his head... it would be such a waste not to stare, right? I'll admit, the rugby boy thing is really not my thing, it never was. But these guys, you can't really help being awed by them, proud of them - born and bred in Ireland and real, real athletes. Plus, you really just don't see physique like that every day. Especially not so... bromance-y. I suppose they're well used to physcial contact with each other, it makes them relaxed with each other's company too. It was cute. And... hot. Brian came back from the toilet doing that absent minded stomach stroking thing men do. Which drew attention to his abs... and two of the others were just wearing old t shirts and low slung tracksuit bottoms, they were all scruffy and brown skinned and ... sigh.
The big guy sittng right behind us recovered a little and look around, shamefacedly, and apologised for the disruption, tears still in his eyes. I said, 'Oh lads, please, don't apologise!' and they did keep on going, but when they were leaving BOD (so apt!) apologised very nicely and ruefully, but really, I should have been thanking them, they made my night. And C said they all filed out in order of size, which is trés cute, and also makes me wonder if they naturally obey an alpha system, perhaps even without realising it :)
Brian was very leaderly.
And they all had girlie desserts, little mousses with a scoop of icecream - though presumably they can eat whatever the fuck they want, and more. The best thing was, that after I realised who they were, and as their laughter was peaking, C mentioned that she was starting to need a breast pad (as it was her daughter's feedtime at home). I couldn't blame her, the hysterical laughter of four of the Leimster rugby team's finest was close to making me lactate as well :)
That had us laughing on the table too, so the atmosophere was merry. I do feel guilty that I was a bit distracted, and that C had sat with her back to the view, but it was my birthday night out...
But I'd recommend Cortina's, we had two salsas, two veg burritos, a coffee and a coke, and it was 35 quid. And it's a lovely restaurant. And Brian O Driscoll goes there. Nice!
