The story of my fling with two Argentinian guys and one connection that is hard to explain.
“Hey, Canadian!” He yelled to me mischievously in Spanish as he sprinted up the stairs of our hostel. I smiled to myself. This guy was exactly the type of Argentinian that was fun, easy going and a bit of a player.
I have arrived to Mendoza, the wine region of Argentina a few days ago, from Buenos Aires. I loved the feeling of the small city, surrounded by mountains and my hostel – a little resort with a pool in the middle. I turned thirty exactly one day ago and though I have to admit I did cry on the eve of my birthday, consoled by a thirty one year old Argentinian girl, the day I actually turned thirty – I felt like finally there was nothing to dread. The day I dreaded to change my life came and went and I was still the same. And that I was actually doing what I wanted. I’ve always had an incredible interest in the Argentinian culture and it has been the first country on my list for ages. Now, I was here, with three months to travel, speak Spanish, meet locals and focus on the dating trends for my Youtube channel.
My main focus was chamuyeros – the men that smooth-talked women for the game of seduction. Here in Argentina, they were a penny a dozen and though fascinated by the whole concept, I wanted to show any guy who tried it on me that I was aware of his tactics.
This guy seemed just that. A fun loving, easy-going chamuyero. Within moments of moving into my dorm with his cousin, he chatted me up in a very self assured manner. Moments later we were drinking wine with them on the terrace. Right after, he had the decency to tell me to change into something nicer for the club. It was pushy and presumptuous, while at the same time kind of nice. Seemed we skipped all the niceties and headed straight for saying what we thought. He did for sure.
Francisco was nothing special. He was somewhat taller than me, with dirty blond hair, liquid caramel eyes that seemed to read mine, full lips and a very Italian look to him. Even though he came from a line of Southern Spaniards.
But instantly, without any thought or reasoning I was attracted to him. Now thinking about it, I am sure it was the way he carried himself. Self assured, relaxed, sarcastic and mischievous. And his way of looking at me, like he was really seeing me.
We formed a little group of us: me, two of my European hostel friends and his cousin Alex. On the way to the door, another guy came up to me. Alfie just arrived with a helmet in his hand, later turning out to have motorbiked all the fifteen hours from Buenos Aires. He was tanned with dark hair and dark eyes, tall and had a body to die for, from what I saw as he hung around with his other friends (shirtless). Instead of arrogant as I initially placed him, he spoke to me in a really friendly and well-mannered way. I immediately invited him to join us.
So here I was – two guys I found attractive and not sure which one to go for. Fran was not someone I would ever consider seriously, while Alfie was both attractive and a decent guy. So decent, he didn’t carry himself with the same ease Fran did, even though he had more of a reason to.
Bad Boy – Monday
“Ugh, this Fran is such a player” I told my English roommate, one of the Europeans who joined us “Look at him chatting girls up”. I was jealous. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him strutting around confidently, looking like the club – boliche was his playground. And wearing a pink t-shirt of all things! He had to be a douche-bag.
A few minutes later, Fran grabbed me by the hand and offered me to go ask the DJ for another song. As we walked away, he stopped in the middle and simply began dancing with me. Alfie threw a look at us.
“Let me get you a drink” offered Fran in a bit.
“Sure. I will go to the bathroom and join you after” I lied. I didn’t want to be too easy. I didn’t trust this guy. I didn’t think he was a good person. I thought he was arrogant, and I wanted to make him wait. At the bottom of my heart, I wanted to be different. A bit aloof and unattainable.
So I did. I danced and danced as he sulked by the bar staring expectantly at me.
A girl who he earlier talked to and who for the record turned out to be a lesbian, approached me to find out if I was interested in Francisco.
I remember telling her, very convinced: “No, nothing will happen with this guy. He’s just a player and I hate players”.
But let’s be honest. I’m not a bitch. I’m very bad at toying with someone’s emotions and his look of desperation combined with the fact that Alfie was now chatting with my English girlfriend, completely ignoring me, spurred me to walk over to the bar and take a seat near Fran. Soon enough everyone, Alfie included (not without giving me a bit of a look) left, leaving me relieved. I knew Fran was a player, but I justified it as “Whatever, I’ll just have fun” to my English friend who nodded in (somewhat of an) agreement.
It was obvious he was gonna try to kiss me. And he did. Three times I pushed him away. “Not yet”, “Do you know how to wait?” “I said no”. He was a typical pushy Argentinian and having done lots of research on them, I was more than wary. I mean, he barely waited to make a move and even when I turned him down, did not act rejected. Any North American guy would now be swallowing more beer to feel like a man. Here was this guy who could care less. Actually he seemed to enjoy a challenge, which is why I gave it in the first place. But secretly, I wanted him to kiss me. When he kissed me for real, I was hooked. It was a strangely sensual, unhurried kiss… It was a personal kiss. Something you share with someone you like. I can’t explain it, but there was something deep in it. It sent a wave of tingles down my body.
We kissed, danced, and he even managed to sing me some song during the dance. He was a natural with no inhibitions and someone to have a bit of a fling with, but nothing more. Nevertheless, I was scared to lose control with him. From this point I became the girl I wanted to be – fun, independent and sexy. For some reason, it was natural with him. Pushing his kiss away at first separated me from the other girls– I knew it. If anything would happen, it would be by my rules, not his. I knew Argentine men. I didn’t trust Argentine men. They were good with women. He was good with women. I didn’t want to be the one he would use and forget.
Back at the hostel, he got into my bed and offered to ‘lie there’ with me, but as much as I wanted to have him near me (and as adorable as he was cuddling next to me), I told him to go back to his bed. Not before I made out with him against the wall.
The next morning I woke up extremely happy. Sure, I’ve kissed lots of guys in the past, but there was a surge of excitement pulsating within me. He woke me up. At the tender age of thirty, I felt younger than ever. I went biking in the park, singing to myself and looking around at everything in wonder. Thank you, Francisco, no matter if you are an asshole or not.
Next day, they had to switch hostels. Not only that, they might leave to another city if the car starts working again, Fran mentioned, not forgetting to look at me directly with a certainty in his eyes – I know you don’t want me to go. They did not end up leaving. Instead he asked me to give him my phone number, in a very old fashioned way – on a piece of paper. I took this opportunity to act my sarcastic self.
“Did you want me to write you a letter?” I asked
“Ok” he smiled slowly looking into my eyes in that way he did.
I took the paper and wrote down how special he was to me. However, with my voice I showed that in reality, he meant nothing to me. (a month later I would write a different letter on the back of that paper.) Smiling, with no further comments, he kissed me goodbye.
Good boy – Tuesday
That evening I kept on waiting for him to come through the door. Sure, it was a fling or whatever, but I missed seeing his stupid impish face. We were eating asado (Argentinian barbecue) in the hostel and Alfie has barely exchanged two words with me, but I noticed him sitting on the other side.
When I was finally bored of all the conversations around me, I went to lie down on the couch. Minutes later, Alfie sat by me.
“Mia” he looked earnest and young (five years my junior). Though Argentinian, Alfie resembled a quarterback in an American football team. Sometimes I could swear he just stepped out of a Freddie Prince Junior movie.
We started talking and after some time it became obvious he 1. Liked me 2. Was jealous of what happened with Fran 3. Really didn’t like Fran
“He’s just such an arrogant asshole. I hate guys like him and I don’t know what happened between you two, but I think you are much better than associating with guys like that”.
“I know, Alfie. He’s no more than an acquaintance. How can I take him seriously?” I lied of course. What would you do if you had two guys you were interested in, have been single for an eternity and had one guy fawning over you while the other didn’t even bother to text? They thought they could use me? Hah, I would take advantage of the situation and be the one to play a game. It was fun and it kept me from falling for any of them, especially Francisco.
A conversation later, we ended up in the park as he lifted me up and pressed me against the wall. He was definitely the one girls would call hot, and more so someone I would envision having a romantic fling with. However, that kiss lacked something. And that night I thought about Francisco’s stupid face with his long eyelashes, caramel eyes and mischievous grin.
Bad Boy – Wednesday
Next morning, Alfie went rafting and Fran came by to pick me up to the go the thermal baths. He texted me right after I got back from the park to say he wanted to see me. No matter what happened with Alfie and no matter the fact that this guy had the word ‘untrustworthy’ written all over his forehead, I grinned as I read it.
He stood on the sidewalk smiling at me as I walked by to him, kissing him on the cheek. We headed down to the thermal baths in the mountains with him smiling to me through the windshield as he drove the car. We spent the day cooking asado, swimming in the cold pools and tanning. He refrained from kissing me, but as we swam through the tunnel, he finally pushed me to the wall and kissed me sensually. Seeing as there were people coming, we stopped, but his hard-on prevented him from coming out of the water.
After we ate, he hinted that they were going to play cards with some other guys and I instantly left to tan. The last thing I wanted was to look like I needed him. I wanted to be as independent as possible, always at the brink of leaving, never lingering. As I lay down on the grass, I knew I was into him. I reenacted the cave kiss in my mind, feeling the tingling feeling every time I thought of his lips touching mine. It was an exciting feeling. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Seduction, a bit of danger, the sense of possibility and yearning.
He came to find me after and we headed to the hot baths where we lay together and talked. We were close but did not kiss. He looked at me intently as I talked, but all of the actions were unhurried and calm. I yearned for him to kiss me, but the closeness of our faces without it was even more of a turn on. Soon enough his cousin found us and smiled in a bit of a surprise. I assume we looked like a couple, cuddling together in the bath.
They switched to the hostel right by us. My French friend Simone, who now knew bits about the story, as well as two Argentine girls in my room, told me what I was doing would be impossible to pull off.
“Mia” she said in her extremely strong accent “If they come tonight for the dinner, you have to choose one boy. Which boy you like?”
“I like him” I told her. “I’m extremely attracted to him. But I don’t want to have sex with him.”
“Why not? You say you are attracted. What is the problem?”
“The problem is that is exactly what he wants. He is chasing me to get sex. Once I give it up, he’s gone.”
“But the boy seems like he likes you.”
“Now” I pointed out. “He likes me now. He likes other girls too. I just don’t trust him.”
“And so, Alfie is a better choice?”
“Alfie is someone I trust. And even if he leaves, I know I won’t hurt like I will with Fran.”
Sometime during this conversation, Alfie came by to kiss me hello. He looked cute and boyish. Someone I might have actually wanted to date. Tanned, toned and earnest.
I wanted to have my Argentinian cake and eat it too.
Good Boy – Wednesday
That night, Fran disappeared on me again. I felt down. He was right by me! He was on the other side of the wall! And yet, he didn’t care what I was doing or where I was. He didn’t care that I was hitting it off with another guy. The reality was that even though the game was fun, I just wanted to see him. I’m not the type to date two people at the same time. Date or fling, whatever that was.
“He is an asshole!” exclaimed Simone, sounding as French as ever. “Why he is not texting you. Better to stay with Alfie!” she said.
The other girls – Rita and Elvie, who spoke virtually no English like pretty much every Argentine I met, including my main characters Fran and Alfie, and who were now completely tuned in into my soap opera grinned at me as I walked out of the shower.
“There was a cute boy at the door looking for you.” Said Elvie.
I found Alfie in the patio.
“I wanted to know if you wanted milanesas.” He told me with a genuine look in his eyes.
“Aw.. thank you. “ I said. “I just ate.”
“I hope you are going out with us tonight.” He looked at me earnestly.
I was. Thankfully for my plan, Fran never came into the hostel to have dinner, so now I was free to get away with my outing with Alfie. A great guy, who actually came into my room to inquire if I wanted food. A part of me was disappointed though. I really expected to hear from Fran tonight. To know that he was interested and was not a player I didn’t trust.
So we ended up going to the club. I wore a dress and heels and Alfie was tall and built in a collared shirt. There were lots of girls, but he told me he could see no one else but me. And as sweet as that was, I couldn’t help feeling I was in some cheesy prom movie.
“That is so disgusting” said Simone. “I do not like this Alfie guy. He sounds so too much!”
Yet him and I danced all night and I almost killed my neck looking around for a shorter guy with the stupid face of Francisco. A few times my heart almost dropped – was it him making out with this girl? Touching that girl? I knew he might be doing the same somewhere else.I just didn’t want to face it. I missed him. My heart was not in the whole romance with Alfie, yet, somehow – it was him I ended up having sex with that night.
Ok, let me explain. We got into some stupid fight over paying for a bottle. Him and his friends were each buying a bottle and since I was sharing drinks with him, he assumed I also wanted to join in on the group ‘fun’ of buying booze. I thought that was completely tactless and anyways, he explained it was a cultural thing but I couldn’t understand it. After the fight, we both felt more honest and less perfectionist (on his part). There was a nice real part of him that I saw and as he invited me to sleep near him, I actually said yes. I trusted him, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. He couldn’t hurt me, because while I did like him somewhat I had no fear of being too involved.
However, it was far from good. He was big. I mean, really big. Also, hard. Not just his penis, but all of him – well defined, muscular, sporty. Incredible, no? Who doesn’t want a tall, tanned, sporty Spanish looking man? But the sex was something out of a porn movie. Wham, bam. Wham bam bam. It mostly hurt, I didn’t relax or enjoy any of it. I felt like I should have been filmed. Afterwards, he passed out near me and I sneaked out of the room feeling like the cheapest woman ever.
I knew I chose the wrong guy. So what if he was safe? I still wanted Francisco. That night I fell asleep with thoughts of his his long eyelashes, bedroom eyes, slow smile and the sensual way he kissed me.
Bad Boy – Thursday
“Senorita” blinked a message on my Whatsapp.
I didn’t respond. Make him wait, for not getting in touch with me. Plus, how the hell am I supposed to respond to that?
Minutes later I saw him waddling over to my table. Why waddling? He sometimes looks like a penguin when he walks fast. Awkwardly he said hi to Alfie’s friend, who was chatting with me and sat near me. We sat there hypnotized, our eyes never leaving each other’s .
“How was your night?” he asked.
“Great. Really good” I answered, showing with my secret smile that anything could have happened with me. Ironically I wasn’t bluffing.
“You seem busy” he said. He seemed awkward around me now that I was so poised, acting busy and like I had no need of him. We always played this game. He stood up. “It would be nice if you showed some creativity and invited me to go somewhere.”
“Ok” I smiled, looking up at him. “I will think of something”
“How about a lake?”I texted him as he left.
“Come over!” he answered back. I put some makeup on, my face literally glowing. Through the consistent lack of sleep, I looked fresher than ever. I suppose feeling and drama do that to you. Oh and vacation of course.
We took the car and drove up to the mountains of Mendoza. He held my hand in the car. The atmosphere of our so called relationship seemed to shift. Here was a guy who was spending his whole day with me. Would he do that with someone he just wanted to have sex with? He has not tried anything yet. He looked at me with real emotion in his eyes. This was something that couldn’t be faked. We lay by the water and just looked at each other, as he caressed my face and lifted the hair from my face. I loved being with him: the fresh scent of his skin, his full lips as he kissed me, the slow smile that spread on his face as he looked at me. I was falling for him.
On the way back, he suggested we head to the hotel.
“No” I said immediately.
“Why not? I like you. You know that, right? “ He looked at me, while keeping his eyes on the road.
You like me. You like other girls. You like everyone. I still don’t trust you.
Maybe that’s why he was so romantic with me in the car. In order to get me to sleep with him. And yes, of course I wanted to, though I just spent the night with another guy. I wasn’t ready. I wanted to do it by my own rules, at my own time. I knew that if we went up to the hotel and he disappeared, all the effort I put into playing it cool, into being different, into waiting it out would fail and he would hurt me deeply. I was too invested to just ‘have fun’.
“So what do you want?” He asked.
“Let me think about it” I said.
He dropped me off and I ran up to my room, pretending not to see Alfie. Alfie was leaving the next day and here I was, completely ignoring him. I sat on my bed.
“What do I do, girls?” I asked my roommates who lay on their beds listening to yet another story of mine. I hoped I wasn’t annoying them. But I guess I replaced television somewhat.
“But you want to have sex, Mia” said Simone. “Why not do it?”
“Because I still don’t trust him! What if that’s the only thing he is after?”
“But you want the same!” exclaimed the Argentines in unison.
“Yes! But I want it to mean something. With Alfie, it was something I knew I wouldn’t regret because I wasn’t so invested. Here, I like the guy. I mean, I really like him. If he disappears afterwards, I will feel horrible.”
“Then don’t do it. You just answered this for yourself.” Answered Rita, who after seeing photos of Alex, Fran’s cousin decided to join me for a beer at their hostel. I knew that meant I wouldn’t see Alfie but I was so preoccupied with thoughts of Fran I couldn’t care less.
Francisco greeted us coolly, no smile on his lips. He brought us a beer and while Alex talked to Rita, we sat in silence. He barely had two words to tell me and then told me that I was the one that was being boring.
“You know” I told him. “You being an asshole, a boludo, is not going to help you. I really don’t appreciate you acting like this.”
He somewhat nodded. Fran was a very conscious guy. He picked up on cues perfectly. He knew well what he was doing.
“Did you want to go watch a movie?” he suggested.
“Let’s go” I agreed. I just wanted to feel close to him, but his response to what happened today really bothered me. Lying on the couch, we started kissing. There was that closeness that we shared. What was the truth? When we were together it seemed we had something but I always had a nagging doubt it was all just for sex.
After falling asleep twice, I told him I was heading back to the hostel. He didn’t even pretend to smile. “You can stay with me if you want” he said. I ignored the remark and headed back. He blew me a kiss, his face as sour as a grapefruit.
Good Guy – Thursday
Frustrated and upset, I walked by Alfie’s table and threw him a quick look. Registering my presence, he immediately came up to me.
“Hey” he said.
“Hi” I smiled.
“You look gorgeous” he admired my red dress. Fran never even mentioned how pretty I looked. It was nice to be appreciated.
“Thank you” I hugged and kissed him on the cheek, thankful for someone who I didn’t have to play games with.
“Look, I’m sorry I fell asleep last night. I wanted to see you today but it seemed you were gone. I just felt like we never actually had the time to just talk.”
“Let’s talk.” I said. I kissed him on the lips, suddenly overcome with emotion for this genuine guy. I was suddenly tired of playing the guessing game with Fran and wanted something simple and straightforward.“Hey, you know, I’ve never been on a motorcycle. It would be great to get on one with you.”
“Sure” he smiled. He put a cask on me as I got on the back. “Hold on to me.” He pushed the bike back and off we went, riding around the half empty dark streets of Mendoza city. Glistening sidewalks, swaying palm trees, my red dress, my arms on his torso and his hand caressing my knee – all of it as if written from my dreams. It was beautiful. He was a beautiful person. Sadly, it was not him I wanted.
We sat in the park talking about lives and on the way back he stopped the bike and bought me a variety of chocolates. We almost parted with a kiss, but still ended up having sex. I know it is weird that I spent the day and evening with one, then was off to have sex with the other. In a way, I wanted to feel power. I liked playing with two people, because I love the drama, because I enjoyed the thrill and because that kept me away from getting hung up on one of them. And now that one of them was going, I was left pining over the one that was left. Like I pretty much was all along.
Bad Boy – Friday
Friday he never got in touch with me. Alfie went off, not without hugging me and telling how incredible I was. Now I was no longer part of an intrigue. I was alone and so very crazy for Francisco. I looked at my phone the whole day, moving it from one hand to the other, turning it on to see if there are any messages I might have missed, my heart sinking a little bit more with nothing from him. And of course, there are your girlfriends who tell you that nothing will happen if you text him. So I did. And he invited me to the pool. And I played it cool and said I would see him later. And he called me a histerica – an Argentine term for a person who changes their mind a lot.
And he never got back to me after that.
I couldn’t concentrate on anything. There was a fresh wave of new tanned men in our hostel. One, Italian douche-bag Francesco kept on pouring more wine into my glass. But after forcing myself to enjoy what was out there, I suddenly couldn’t be around more people so I went up to my room and lay there, staring up at the ceiling and resisting the strong urge to cry. It’s kind of hard to with a lack of privacy in a dorm.
This was ridiculous. I mean, who was he for me to cry over?
It was the fact that he was seconds away without the need to see my face, to touch me, to spend more time with me before we both left. The fact that he would go to a club and meet another woman. The fact that I would never sleep with him again. I finally fell asleep and woke up early in the morning with thoughts of it.
Bad Boy – Saturday
Sitting at my laptop, I got a message from my Argentine girlfriend. I recounted her the story and called him a jerk for disappearing like that. She put a different spin on the situation, telling me that he actually seemed like a decent guy. Any other Argentine would have already given up and not invited me anywhere, yet he was consistent in his contact with me that that said a lot. I guess I wanted to be convinced so I didn’t think twice about messaging him.
“I’m translating my video from Spanish to English. Want to come over and help?”
It was better than the standard “how are you?” It made me sound independent and yet someone who could use his help. For some reason, sending this message felt right. Just because we didn’t see each other, didn’t mean I couldn’t be the first to initiate contact.
He answered back in an hour.
“I always want to help. Be there right away.”
He was swimming in our pool when I came down. I made breakfast and he joined me in the kitchen, looking over at what I was doing.
“So, what is the plan tonight?” I asked, scanning the kitchen for a pot.
“Well, I was going to spend time with my cousin. Unless you have another plan” he waited expectantly.
“You can spend time with him or you can spend the night with me.” I blurted out. This was completely unlike me. This time, though, it felt like I was making the choice to be with him, not vice versa and it no longer made me feel like a victim.
“Which one would be more fun?” He flirted.
“Depends on your definition of fun” I answered back neutrally, not meeting his eyes. I knew I had a certain power over him. I could feel his attraction for me. For the independent, fun and playful girl I was when I was with him.
He laughed at the reply.
We watched the unedited copy of my video about “Argentine smooth-talkers” with a serious face.
“I don’t agree with how these guys pick up women.” He finally said. “In my opinion, in order to get a woman interested you shouldn’t comment on broad things like beauty. Lots of people are beautiful. Instead, you should focus on a specific personality trait. Something that makes this person stand out.” He focused his eyes on me.
We headed to the pool, meeting up with his cousin there. I was scared to find out anything about last night and he was clearly interested in making me jealous.
“My back hurts” he told me “I think it’s from the girls of last night.”
The fact that he tried to make me feel jealous that obviously meant one thing – either nothing happened, or he wanted me to know something happened. Either way, I refused to get jealous and laughed it off.
He was into me.
It got clear in the pool. His eyes scanned me constantly. He would come over and kiss me. He would nuzzle his head against me. Lying next to me, his light brown eyes seemed to almost read mine. It was like we didn’t need to speak.
On my part, I continued being a bit unreachable. He commented later on that I would never stay long enough, always leaving him first to go swim or lay down. It was a trick of mine to show him that I was not his. That I didn’t depend on him. That he should appreciate my presence while I was there. In reality, I was scared that he would get bored. I’ve never known this fear with anyone else, but with him I couldn’t just let go and be. If he talked to any other girls, I would close my eyes or switch my attention to something else, so he could see I didn’t view them as competition. Always he would come back to kiss me in front of them,seek me out or smile at me. He pushed the jealousy just far enough without making me feel angry.
We decided to meet for drinks, so I got ready and put my dress on. They were still shirtless, eating pasta, when I came in. He stared at me, finally saying “wow”. I told them they could come see me when they were ready. I would be drinking at my own hostel.
I was playing a drinking game and checking my phone every two seconds when he finally showed up, dressed in a collared shirt and jeans. He sat next to me.
“So what is the plan?” he asked soon enough. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Yes” I answered simply. I wanted to, no matter what happened after.
He seemed to exhale a sigh of relief as if he was scared I would say no. He wouldn’t have pressured me had I said no. He never pressured.
The plan was to go to some swanky club on the outskirts of the city. I just wanted to stay with him, but it was Saturday and his last day so I agreed to it. But as we took separate taxis on the way to the club, me in the front seat, barely listening to the chatter of the girls in the back, I was no longer certain I trusted him again. What if now that he knew I was interested he would look for someone else? What if he was an asshole in the club?
On top of it all, the club was eighty percent women. Not just women, but beautiful women with careful makeup, glistening long hair, perfectly assembled clothing. I told myself to breathe – I had to believe I was hotter than anyone else. He was at the bar getting drinks and it irked me that he never asked me what I wanted. He was trying to make sure everyone was having a good time, but was all over the place. He would come and dance with me one second then leave to do something else the next. I felt second best. At one point, after his return to me, I pushed him away when he tried to kiss me. I was starting to get pissed off and I didn’t want to be.
After this, he pulled me away from the crowd and we danced together, under the open sky of the club. Finally, we were together and I felt the connection once again.
“I hate you” he told me, his eyes on mine.
“Why do you hate me?” I asked laughing.
“Because it’s easier to say this than anything else I want to say.”
We took a taxi and told the driver to drop us off to a hotel on the way. They dropped us off in the parking lot. We spent all our money and on the taxi and he had barely enough to cover the hotel. LOVE HOTEL. That was the name. I’m not even kidding. We had no food or water and couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous this all was. As our kissing escalated in the parking lot I joked that when the hotel staff would come and get us, we would be done. He looked at me.
“I love how much we have shared together. It feels like I’ve known you forever. ”
And yes, the truth is that by now we had a much stronger bond than Alfie had with me. It wasn’t romantic and perfect like it seemed to be with Alfie. It was just a real connection. It was completely imperfect, and that made it stronger.
Finally we picked up our keys. There was romantic music playing from the radio. Thank God for no rose petals. I asked him to please turn the music off as this was extremely cheesy. He seemed confident as he waited for me on the bed, but the whole thing was so pre-planned, that both of us were awkward. He couldn’t come for ages. He was going soft. The sex lacked the fire of our kisses.
“I’m sorry” he said afterwards “I’m just nervous”
“Nervous because you like me so much?” I teased.
“Yes” he answered simply.
It was ironic really. With Alfie and his words of romance, you would expect slow lovemaking. Instead we humped like two Duracell bunnies. With Fran and his lack of romance, you would expect the wham-bam sex. Instead, the experience seemed slow, soft (not just his penis) and close. While the sex disappointed, I loved that he enveloped me in his arms afterwards.
“I love sleeping with you like this” he told me.
However, it seemed like our time limit was two hours. We barely got a chance to cuddle and have sex one more time before we were asked to leave. On the way back into the city, I half slept on his shoulder as he caressed me, watching the sun rise over the mountains.
Bad Boy – Sunday
He came to see me after our nap in separate hostels. We went back to the pool and lay side by side kissing and looking at each other. Soon, he came to tell me they were leaving. He looked at me in the eyes, reading me and I looked back at him. We didn’t break eye contact for at least one minute.
Then we started kissing, ending up having sex in the bathroom, which I must say was a definite improvement over the Love Hotel as there was no more softness to be had. We ate pasta at their hostel and he fell asleep, at which point I left.
After a short nap, I texted him to tell me when they would be leaving only to get his text apologizing for not telling they already left. I was angry at him for not saying goodbye.
“I hate goodbyes” he answered “but I am sure, actually I’m hoping I will see you in my city really soon.”
We talked almost every day for the next two weeks.