Actual conversation between this guy in my co-op and me:
Me: "I can't be at the meeting next week because I'll be out of town."
Guy: "Okay. Where are you going?"
Me: "I am going to Chicago to visit my girlfriend."
Guy: "Oh. Do you play rugby?"
...thus leaving me to consider the inextricable link between dykes and rugby. Of course, the connection is obvious: there is nothing more butch than rugby. You spend two hours running around the field, smashing into your opponent and generally trying to inflict as much pain as possible. After dragging yourself, bleeding and bruised, off the field, you retire immediately to the nearest source of (what is usually bad) beer, without showering. You then proceed to get wasted with the same people that you were trying to kill one hour before. Only the strongest, the baddest, and those with the highest alcohol tolerance survive. In a way, it is really poetic.