I've fallen in love with Rugby.

A few weeks ago, Becca and I were out and on one of our drunken rampages. I told her that my friend's brother happens to live with half of Warwick University's rugby team. He has some very hot housemates... Unfortunately, he wasn't in Leamington at the time, so we went on a mission to find rugby players that night, regardless. Literally "Hello, do you play rugby? No? Bye! ... Hello! Do you play rugby...?" etc.
We came across two guys who claimed they were on the team, both good looking, but both said they didn't know my friend's brother. We danced the night away with them, content that we'd fulfilled our mission.

The week after the girls were out for a friend's birthday. I couldn't make it, but I lived the night through photos. They'd bumped into one of the rugby players again and birthday girl had pulled him! ...and then he'd told her he was 18 and played for Warwick School rugby team!! From this night on, he was known as Rugby because we didn't know his name (and the birthday girl was renamed Paedophile).
The next week they saw him again, except he didn't recognise any of them! Not even Paedophile! But in their drunken state my friends screamed Rugby! at him, and he made a swift exit...

Last night, we saw him again! And again, he didn't recognise us. He now just sees us as a strange group of girls that shout Rugby! and take photos of him...
I was just flicking through these photos, and discovered that he's worn the same t-shirt every night. Strange, no?

So, he doesn't play rugby for a university team.
He's not even old enough to go to university.
He only has one t-shirt.
He's not called Rugby.
He thinks we're insane.
He brings so much joy to my life! I love him!