The WAG life wasn't for Bianca Peters.
The WAG life wasn't for Bianca Peters.

Truth about being a WAG

AS I'm nearing 30, I look back on my dating life and a pattern emerges; my significant others either loved sports or played sports (professionally).

I've dated a few professional athletes, and no, I am not a gold digger, nor am I a cheerleader on the sidelines.

I'm an educated woman with her own career who happens to love competitive sports perhaps more than most women.

I am 165cm tall and weigh less than 50kg, but on the inside, I am a 190cm, 104kg American football player. In my mind and heart I was created to be on the football field, but like most other people, my genes have had the last word.

I was raised in an American football family, my uncle played professionally; my cousin does even now. My earliest memories involve waking up early to join the crowds at our favourite team's stadium with grandma attempting to paint the Dallas Cowboys logo on my face, seven beers deep with a steady hand.

I was destined to be involved in the sports field in same way, so I decided on sports broadcasting. I started covering college sports and eventually the pros.

It's what I knew, it's what I loved, and it's what I was around.

Naturally you date someone with similar interests and as a result a few of my hook-ups played professional sports. Don't get me wrong, I've dated a doctor, news anchor, even a bartender. But the pro athlete dating world is like no other experience.




If you don't like sports, then it's going to seem like one big pitfall. But then again, if you don't like sports, you probably wouldn't be reading this.

The only serious relationship in my life (by serious, I mean pick-up-and-move-across-the- country for someone because marriage was a real possibility) was with someone (who will remain anonymous as he's moved on and has a family of his own), that played football for a professional team in Minnesota, a state known for its lakes, cheese, and of course football team.

I knew Minnesota was a bitterly cold state, which was the complete opposite of my sunny California Coast, but I figured it wasn't about where you live, but who you live with that mattered most.

Back in California, we grew up 10 minutes apart from each other but didn't meet until my third year of university. He chose to leave college early and chase his dream in the National Football League, or NFL.

At 204cm and 140kg with an impressive record at one of the greatest college football teams, he was sought after by all the teams. He never had to worry about being cut or losing his spot to someone else. His future was guaranteed and so was his multimillion-dollar pay cheque.




Watching my best friend play each Sunday on the field was exhilarating - that was the closest I was going to get to playing in the NFL and I loved every minute of it.

Off the field he'd get noticed everywhere we went. Adoring fans wanted pictures, restaurants set aside special tables. There was no waiting in lines. He was a superstar, and I by association benefited.

There was never a worry about finances. I lived in a beautiful home and drove nice cars, but ultimately the sparkle of good fortune seemed to dull.

Something was missing.

So many girls I knew were completely happy to settle down in a luxury home with their professional athlete partner, even capitalising on their partner's status to make a living. And hey, more power to them - they're making a buck with what life has given them. That's smart. Very Kardashian.


Yes, cheating. It happens all too frequently with female fans throwing themselves at "their ticket" to paradise.

These guys are held to a different standard by the public and many choose to act accordingly.

Thankfully, I did not have that kind of partner. He was a good, moral man who loved his family fiercely and loved me.

But still, I wanted more for myself. Or perhaps, not more, but different. Because I sure as hell don't have "more" now.




At 24, I knew I was not ready to be taken care of. I wanted to struggle on my own. I wanted to have to eat cheap, tasteless, frozen dinners. And more importantly, I wanted to pursue a career that I could be proud of.

It's almost impossible to make that work when you live in a few different cities throughout the year, following your partner around from one team to the next. Compromise is hard, and there's always one person that has to give up a little more than the other.

I just wasn't willing to compromise anymore. I wanted to put my aspirations and goals first and unfortunately that meant leaving Minnesota forever.

It wasn't easy moving on but I left because I had always been driven to make my own mark in this world, to learn from and grow in the struggles that I believed were necessary if I was to be the true me.

When I say it that way, it sounds a little stupid, I guess. But years later I can see that I made the right choice.

In the end, I learned a lot about myself, I've carved out an existence I feel proud of and I'm in a better place now, where I believe love has a greater chance to be forever - with a pro athlete, a doctor, or a cop or even a friend.

This story originally appeared on and was republished with permission

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