Every year at my children’s school summer fair there is a coconut shy, you pay £1 for 5 small wooden balls and you have the throw them at coconuts sitting on top of pillars. If you knock a coconut off, you get to keep it.
Total waste of money if you ask me.
Every year without fail my other half, as well as every other dad, is drawn to it. It’s something in their genes, they really can’t help it. For some reason they feel like the ultimate man winning a coconut. It won’t get eaten, no one actually wants one, but it’s the winning that counts. Allegedly.
We have just been to the fair today, per usual I have come home with a coconut and a man that’s peacock-ing about. The coconut shy was quite quiet this year but it did remind me of last year.
The queue of dad’s was huge, you could smell the testosterone in the air, there were men stretching and warming up to prepare. Their manly hood was on the line, all the ladies were watching and waiting impatiently for their coconut prize. (That last bit was sarcasm by the way)
The guy before my boyfriend managed to win a glorious coconut, he turned round and held it up high above his head, like a prize cup at a football game. The rest of the dad’s in the queue were even more pumped and ready to go, knowing that had to at least win one coconut to keep up.
As my boyfriend walked over to have his go he whispered to me “watch this” grabbing the balls and limbering up. The jammy bugger won two coconuts, turning round to face the other dad’s, his chest puffed out like the cat that got the cream. He strutted over saying “here you go” and handed me the two coconuts. Then walked away.
It was a ‘drop the mic moment’
So now you know my boyfriends manliness is in tact you can sleep well tonight, your welcome.
The Secret Blog of a 30 Year Old
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