My Greek Hook-Up Story ( by K)

photo1My best friend and I decided to leave Montreal for a two week vacation. We spent the first few days in Athens, went to Cairo, got traumatized and came right back to Greece to forget all about it.

Namely to Mykonos.

By that time it has already been nine days that we were out of Canada and I have not gotten laid yet. The blood was boiling inside of me. And it just happens that I got my period when we got to Mykonos. My dream of tasting a Greek man kinda faded away at that moment.

We rented this cute room/villa at this hotel on a hill about 10 minutes walking from little Venice.

The view was just dreamy! The smell of sea air, the mountains and the view of the turquoise water was incredible. Perfect place to fall in love/lust.

Once we got there, my friend Carla went to shower and I went to the pool bar to get our welcome drinks. As I walked through the opening, I saw these hot Italian looking men. So hot, they were probably gay. As I turn my head towards the bar my eyes rest on a good-looking bearded man behind it staring back at me. Jackpot.

While I’m sipping this whatever fruity drinks he made I am super aware of his eyes on me. He walks up and asks me where I’m from and we end up chit chatting. His name is Vasilis, he is Greek and twenty minutes later he is already inquiring about my plans for that night. Upon hearing my friend and I are thinking of hitting the party scene, he offers to show us around, throwing in “we can have a lot of fun together.”

I’m thinking this man either really likes me or he’s genuinely nice to hot tourists. I found out later that “we are gonna have fun” in Greek translates to “We are gonna have sex”. Me and my naive self. Oh well… What did I care? I knew nothing was gonna happen. It was my time of the month after all.

After walking around the beach and eating at a seaside restaurant with Carla, I was dying to go to the bar and see Vasilis, but it was already midnight so I figured “oh well… Another time.” Let’s see what Mykonos has in plans for us.

After a pretty crazy night out in Club Paradise, and a great start to the day at the pool, I was still hoping to see Vasilis. Instead, I see this other Greek stud. And I think to myself…. “Will I ever be able to stop falling for these Greek Gods?”

We have breakfast. He makes us freshly squeezed orange juice and adds some vodka in. Way to get the two hangover girls drunk again.photo3

We rest around the pool, sleeping, enjoying the cloudless sky and the hot weather of Mykonos.

Then, in the corner of my eye, I see Vasilis at the bar, who seems like he sees me too. As I wake up from a nap after, I feel a little tap on my shoulder. I turn my head and guess what I see – Vasilis’ face looking at me with his big eyes, a drink in his hand.

“Hey K, this drink is for you. You never came to see me after and I was waiting for you”

“I was going to see you” I said “But it seemed kind of late”. That part of it was true.

photo2After he left and I rested some more, I figured, hey this is my last day in Mykonos! I might as well go and innocently flirt with the bar boy. I will myself to walk up to the bar, giving a sign to Carla that I am abandoning her for an hour or so.

As Vasilis and I talk, I feel his eyes burning into me. He asks me what I’m doing tonight and I tell him I’m leaving back home.

“Oh no…” he says “I thought you were gonna stay longer. I could bring you to the beach and we could have fun there!”

“Yes I know” I sigh.

“You know, we can still have a lot of fun” he hints.

Ok, so I know where this is going, however I’m bleeding, but this is probably my last chance to get laid while I’m in Greece with a hot Greek man. I think “screw this” and grab his hand as I finish my cigarette. “Why don’t I call room service?”

I offer him to wait a few minutes then come up with a pretense of  giving me my phone charger.

I said wait a few minutes then you can come by and give me my charger.

As I leave the bar, I am walking slowly. When I am sure nobody can see me, I charge. I tell Claudia that I’m gonna be busy with the boy so she can tan somewhere and read a book.

Get to the room. Clean myself. Pick up the messy clothes scattered everywhere. Get ready to greet him in my bikini.

He knocks. Comes in. As I close the door, he grabs my face passionately and kisses me.

Ouf…. I’m in heaven. We keep on making out, then I realize I’m still on my period, so I have to tell him. I start laughing and he’s a bit bedazzled, so I come right out and say it.

He looks at me with his wide eyes “Are you serious?”

I’m thinking this guy is probably feeling like he has made a bad choice! First I gotta leave in two hours, and then this surprise!

But then he surprises me even more by offering “other holes!” I guess it’s true what they say about Greeks!

I offer to go to the shower instead.

We get in the shower. The window is open so you can see the mountains outside and the breeze is coming through. We have the best sex ever: it is passionate, unexpected and incredible!

As we finish, we dry ourselves, kiss, and I thank him for his “room service” which makes him burst out laughing. Before he left the room he told me to pass by the bar and say goodbye.

Truth is, I didn’t wanna say goodbye. I just wanted to stay in perfect Mykonos forever. My face was glowing so much, Carla looked at me and started laughing.

As I walk up to him to get my final drink, it’s sunset and my body is filled with all kinds of emotions. I feel like crying of happiness, because I had such a wonderful experience with this place. I give him one final hug and I leave.

As we’re in the car to get to the ferry and my mind is still in the clouds, I receive a message from Vasilis: “I will miss you. Hope to see you again :)”

Even though we are leaving this paradise, I’m in heaven.

By next day, I came down to earth. Through Facebook, Carla and I realized he lied about a couple of things. First he lied about his age. Twice! First he told me he was twenty two instead of twenty five. Then it turns out he is actually twenty years old. Way to feel like a craddle robber instead of a man eater I initially considered myself as!

Second it turns out not only does he actually have a girlfriend, after telling me he was single, but that they have been together for three years!

Don’t get me wrong, I was still on a high because of what I’ve experienced. But let’s just say that I felt bad for that poor little girl who trusted this man whore.

And the worst is yet to come. When I get back home and we chat, he tells me he is waiting for both Carla and I to come back because he would love to have fun together. By this time, I get the full definition of fun.

About the writer: Vietnamese, born in Montreal, 27, single, and living the life.

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Never Have I Ever… (2013)

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I collect moments so I can look back at them when I am old.. but which are the moments that we really remember?Which do we keep on recounting over and over again?

Upon request from one of my readers to write about Swiss men, I have decided to share a fairly old story about a Swiss-German guy I met while working in Panama. The reason I didn’t write about him write right away is for some reason he didn’t stick in my mind. There are men I have had the most romantic experiences with, only to forget them as soon as the wheels of the plane took off the ground. While others, like my friend Franko, still make me sad with every Facebook update.

Anyways, requests from you guys are important to me, so here goes…

The rainy season wasn’t coming for a month, so in order to conserve electricity and not use up the so needed AC, Panamanian workers received a week off from work. When I realized I would get a four day long weekend, I quickly decided to head back to Santa Catalina for a break. There was an international surfing championship happening there, so lots of parties to look forward to. Two busses and a long walk later, I arrived to the surfing hostel with two new friends I made on the bus – one Australian and one German.

The owner of the hostel was away so in charge were his two pot smoking young Brazilian sons. One, Gabriel, was gorgeous. I stared at him on my way in and he at me. He couldn’t have been older than 24, so it was a definite no go. Still, the attention he showed me was really flattering. When I asked him a question about why there was a closet full of surfboards instead of a bathroom as the sign showed, he stared at me for ages before coming out with a response. And ok, he might have been stoned, but he also looked mesmerized by me, which felt great.

That night, the German, the Aussie and I headed to Chili Rojos. If you read my Argentinian story, you will know that was the same place I met Pablo. We stood in front of the bar, when a car came to a halt in front of us and a blond boy with a very German face leaned out of the window.

“You know vere zer is good place to eat?” he asked in a very thick accent.

We directed him to where we were going and soon enough, ended up joining his table. He was with two other guys and a girl with cropped hair, who later turned out to be his brothers and sister.  Being very German in behaviour, the guys were very nice, but quite robotic and awkward around me. Erich seemed to be the fun and loose one of the group. When we played a game of “Never Have I Ever”, he seemed to be the most experienced one. He was also the most flirtatious with me, and of course quickly established himself as the leader, being the oldest.

After we headed to another bar, where I felt more awkward by the second as the brothers surrounded me and flirted with me. They were all over me, hanging on to every word I said and instead of flattering it began to feel slightly creepy. Flirting is definitely not the Swiss-German forte. Nor the German. Instead of the natural fluidity of the Italians or the Spanish, Germans are stiff and uncomfortable, which makes you equally so.  Once the brothers realized I was into Erich, they grew visibly sad and just stood there even more awkwardly.

Erich offered we go for a walk to the ocean, which was about a twenty minute hike in absolute darkness made only lighter by the bright stars that covered the sky. During the walk, he kissed me and we kissed the whole dark way down to the water. Once on the beach, our little adventure got crazier.

He removed my clothes, and almost ordered me to get into the water. With his thick Swiss-German accent, it actually sounded quite dominant, so I obeyed. Curiosity tends to get the best of me as I always long for adventure and new experiences. Well, this was definitely an interesting one. Naked, and emerged in shallow water, with him over me and melodic trance playing far off in the distance, I felt weightless and carefree.This is when he scooped up mud and began ‘drawing’ on me. Yes, I am not even kidding. The whole thing was surreal but I enjoy people with a sense of creativity and this Swiss boy had more than enough of it.

Never have I ever lied naked in the water with a stranger covered in dirt and here I was. Mr. Artisto decided to stick his cell phone in my bag and hang it across himself.  It wasn’t a surprise when it fell in the water and died. By the end of this adventure, we were both shoeless, (as our flip flops got carried away with the tide) and dirty.

We walked barefoot to my hostel, laughing about the whole thing, only to find out that there was no water back at my hippy place and we would have to sleep dirty. Using the only towel I had, we dried ourselves off, or rather – scrubbed the dirt away and got into bed.

I shared the room with another girl who slept off to the other side. However, we ended up having sex in that same room, and then Mr. Commander decided he wanted to try it on the balcony until the rail almost gave out and we had to step away quickly. Otherwise, they would have found two muddy, naked people lying on the grass underneath the window.

Why did I have sex with Erich the first night? Well, he was definitely inventive and there was not a dull second with him. And even though he definitely had a few slightly crazy ideas in his head, I fully trusted him. The guy spent majority of his twenties in a serious relationship. Now, he wanted to try something new, to experiment, to have crazy moments in his life. I felt we both wanted the same thing. Not even the sex itself, more an adventure to share.

The_Beach_at_Santa_Catalina,_Panama_(8369739920)Early that morning, we walked down the beach in search of our shoes and praise Jesus, there they were! Rejoicing, we hugged and kissed. He went back to his hotel and I went back to get some breakfast. He told me he would contact me that evening.

Meanwhile, Gabriel, the Brazilian kept on throwing longing gazes at me. I wasn’t really into anyone. If I really fell for Erich, I wouldn’t have noticed anyone around me, but I was bored. Life in Panama didn’t give me what I wanted – feelings. And if I couldn’t get feelings, I would compensate for something memorable.

“Are you going to the party tonight?” Asked Gabriel.

He was behind the bar serving drinks and he looked gorgeous – curly hair, full lips, that bronze tan that comes with life on the beach.

“I think so.”

There was a surfing championship end party happening that night and the whole hostel was going. Apart from me, there were only a handful of girls staying at the surfing hostel and as flattering as the attention was, ten guys to two girls ratio got to be a little much. The Swiss brothers, the Brazilians, men everywhere. You could probably smell testosterone a mile away from Santa Catalina. That and horniness.

I wasn’t sure how, but I wanted to have something with Gabriel, even though Erich texted he would see me later. I drove to the area with Gabriel’s brother and soon we got a group of Panamanians dancing to reggaeton. Neither Gabriel nor Erich were anywhere to be seen. Suddenly, as trance began playing, I could see a group of blond Europeans charging our way, their fists pumping the air.

One of them was Erich and his brothers, who now actually began to act coolly around me. I hugged him to me and we all began dancing. An hour or so later, he had to drive everyone back.

“You will wait for me, Mia? I will be back in twenty minutes!” he told me.

“Sure” I said. “I will wait.”

At first I danced by myself, feeling quite awkward amongst a crowd of people I didn’t know. Then, I saw Gabriel. We talked a bit, then began dancing – closer and closer until his breath was on my face. He seemed nervous as he leaned in to kiss me, but relaxed as I reciprocated. We kissed and kissed, until I realized it was time Erich would be returning. Like a complete bitch (I still feel kind of bad for it), I told Gabriel I had to go to the bathroom and walked the other way.

Just in that moment, Erich saw me. One second earlier and he would have seen me with the Brazilian. I jumped into his arms and he hugged me tightly to him. I thought I saw Gabriel looking at us, though I wasn’t so sure. We danced, then went further on to the wooded area to continue dancing barefoot until he forgot where he left his shoes. Again. We searched for them until even the police themselves decided to help us out with a flashlight.

After the dancing, we drove to the beach where he played commander, part two. He took me in his arms and asked me to lean backward on my hands as he kissed my body. I don’t even know why, but I was relaxed and eager to try all these things with him. Never have I ever done acrobatic tricks on the beach, and here I was, completely out of my body, not thinking… and as an over thinker, that was a refreshing sensation.

Never have I ever had sex in a car” I offered as we got into the comfy minivan.

He eyed me. “We can arrange that.”190342482_552ad209ac

We drove into the woods, ‘parked’ in a ditch and moved all the seats back.  The windows got fogged, as if we were both in “Titanic” (except without the hand imprint), when the police decided to check up on us. They thought something might be wrong with the car. Erich, his hair discheveled and his face flushed, opened the window.

“No, todo bien. Gracias” he said in his broken Spanish.

I killed myself laughing.

Later, we sat naked on the floor of the car with the door slid opened, naked, my head on his shoulder and talked about life in general. I wish I could remember what we said to each other, but time erases memory, leaving only the most significant conversations in your head. Next day, I was leaving back to Panama City and he told me he would visit me before he left back to Zurich.

Last time I saw him, he took a taxi to the old part of the city just to meet me a couple of hours before he had to leave.  He spent those hours giving me a massage and did not even instigate sex until I lunged at him, which showed to me I gave him more than just a great sexperience. He lay next to me, caressing my face until it was time to leave and after kissing me softly, closed the door behind him.

I asked him to mail me some Swiss chocolate.

We wrote each other back and forth until we had nothing more to write about. I will be honest – I hardly ever think about Erich and had it not been the request to write about a Swiss guy I never would have mentioned him.

There are guys we can have the craziest, most amazing few days with, but not remember, and there are those we barely know or exchange one kiss with, but that is the one kiss that we keep on reverting back to over and over again. I’m glad I did those things I have never ever done, and wouldn’t have if I didn’t meet Erich, but real feelings are so much more important than just a sum of experiences.

When you like someone, really like them – every look is meaningful, every touch is electrified and every sense is heightened. And even the most regular experience can take on a new meaning. It is not the moments I tried so hard to collect, thinking ‘that would make a good story’ that I recall, it is those that I lived and breathed through, the ones when I really lived in the present.

Believe it or not, but never have I ever been in love. I write about dating, I make videos about dating.. but I have yet to feel an overwhelming emotion. And that, my readers, is the biggest irony of all!BeFunky_970981_409179255857516_1613477559_n32.jpg32

Please share with me any story of mine that really caught your attention and tell me why. Thanks for reading and keep asking for requests!

The Belgian – A Little Too Late (2014)

backpackerSince I recently moved to a new apartment downtown I was eager to host someone on Couchsurfing. However, a bachelor isn’t exactly an ideal place for it since you are pretty much face to face with the person day and night. For those who do not know – a bachelor isn’t a TV show, it is an apartment solely comprised of one room.

This guy’s message was asking me to host him for a few days. He seemed cool – extremely well travelled, worldly, he spoke German, French and even Argentinian Spanish. But I was too lazy and uncomfortable to host a guy in the same room. I clicked a ‘no’ and faked a reason. He told me he understood but was a bit upset. It seemed like he couldn’t get hosted at all these days and was losing all faith in Couchsurfing. Something in me felt like I should prove him wrong and take a chance, so my ‘no’ turned to ‘yes’.

Next week, as he walked through the door, I knew we would get along just fine. Eduard was relaxed, easy to talk to, very genuine and sarcastic (which is my weakness in men actually). And to top it off – he was quite attractive. Tall, dark haired, with a longer nose, which actually gave him more of a personality, and a soft accent that would change from German to French to Spanish and even to Irish when he said ‘Fock!’

When he noticed I was cooking dinner, he offered to run to the store and get wine and even brought me some Belgian chocolate.

Over dinner, we talked about our lives. I was slightly envious of his free lifestyle. Having completed his Masters, he was travelling around the world on a whim. He has lived in Argentina and Egypt, has been to India three times and had no fear of going to places like Lebanon and Syria. He owned a motorcycle and was free as the wind, while I was working 9-5 and feeling like I could use a three month vacation.

As it turned out later, he wished he had a life like mine. He wanted to be more stable, he no longer took any pleasure in travelling and while he was a daredevil in many parts of his life, Eduard seemed to lack the confidence to initiate anything with a girl he found attractive. From his stories I gathered he didn’t have a serious girlfriend and seemed to over-think every move he made.

When I took him to a Couchsurfing meeting, he seemed to see other guys as competition and I couldn’t understand why. He was a great guy, with an impressive life, and a cool personality. He exuded confidence, but deep down he was way more complicated and lonely.

Most people at the Couchsurfing meeting knew I was filming a documentary about sex and hook-ups in the Couchsurfing world. I focused on guys that used the site as a tool to get laid with exotic women, and was even going to NYC to stay at a Brazilian guy’s place with my camerguy in April. How ironic was it when I came in with a guy and announced I was hosting him for a few days. Most people winked and nudged me all over the place, while he pointed out that I seemed to enjoy the attention.

And I think it was really funny that while I was focusing on this topic, I really wouldn’t have minded if he made a move on me. I just didn’t want to initiate anything. I was tired of having international flings that were momentary and having already found one boyfriend on Couchsurfing I didn’t want to continue the pointless trend.

We grew really close over the course of the three days. My building had a problem with the water, so we made salads with bottled water, took showers in the gym next door and made countless jokes. He would get vegetables and cookies and we would drink beer and talk. Everything was smooth, easy and I even got used to having a companion. It was kind of nice to come back home and spend time with him, to feel that there was this great guy I could just be with – no games, or pretending or any other crap involved.

But I wouldn’t make any sort of a move. And I was almost certain he wouldn’t either. The last night we lay down on his mattress bed and were very close. Had it been a year ago, I would have probably been more obvious about my interest but at this point I didn’t want to this more awkward so I just let it go.

As I got in bed, he said :

“You know.. Your mention of the documentary about sex made me feel like I had to prove to you that I was different. I wish you never told me”

He left the next day but this is when he finally got enough guts to tell me how he felt. He told me he hardly experiences a strong connection with someone the way he did with me. He was terrified I would turn him down and this made it really difficult to make a move. He wished he could be close to me, not as a hook-up or a fling, but something way deeper because even though he has been around the world he rarely felt this way.

I suspected something similar but this was huge.

And the worst – he was so scared I would turn him down, he never even tried. He waited until he LEFT to tell me how he really felt. He had no fear of booking a ticket to the most remote place in the world, but he couldn’t reach three inches to kiss a girl he really liked. He was so scared of looking vulnerable, he didn’t do anything at all. So now, all we had was something that did not happen. And that, in my opinion, is one of the biggest regrets people have. Wanting to do something and being afraid it doesn’t work out.

I think women like men who take charge, who can initiate something, who may be afraid of rejection but have enough confidence in them to go for it anyways. And this is probably why, while Eduard and I had such a great connection, I failed to see him as the real man. Of course, being hosted is a tricky situation and he was not sure how I would react so I understand completely. But what is the point of wishing I was ‘beside him’ right now when we are miles apart is beyond me.

Guys, and girls – I know it’s hard. But it is better to be rejected than to forever wonder what might have been. I know this is cliche and you have probably seen tons of ‘inspiration’ posters with those same words – but still it doesn’t sink in. Life doesn’t give us second chances. So take the first.

The Virgin (2013)

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Never get involved with someone for the reason of “helping them”. 

When he walked into the club, he stood out. First of all, he was tall. He also had an attractive face and I swear I could feel his European-ness a mile away.

We were in a fifties style club, for a friend’s birthday. He seemed to know all of my friends. Everyone, except for me, which wasn’t a surprise – I pretty much just got back from Panama.

I waited and waited to be introduced. This is my new tactic – relax and let things happen. When I realized I might wait the whole night like this, I reverted to my old technique – make the move. I walked up to my friend and got him to introduce me to the guys, which he did with a sarcastic grin on his face.

Lenard, the chubby shorter guy was the chatty one. Theo was the one I liked. Both were from The Netherlands studying for their masters.

Theo was cute. With dark blue eyes, light brown hair falling in strands over his forehead and a nice built he looked as if he had no trouble getting girls. But when he talked to me, I didn’t sense his interest. His eyes did not gaze into mine with meaning. He seemed detached, completely disinterested and not in the least bit flirty. He talked and talked, but never actually took the time to slow down, smile and really look at me. I figured he really wasn’t interested and I was just wasting my time. So I reverted to my new technique of not giving a damn and excused myself to go to the bathroom. In addition, he was only here for the remaining month and I have been through and over this with similar consequences. Another guy who would leave. Another, whatever it was. I was getting quite sick of it.

I spent the night dancing and fighting the urge to initiate conversation. My new motto was: if someone wants you, they will make it happen. Especially if you already took that extra step. His friend and he never danced. They simply walked around talking to people and when they left, he walked right by me without saying bye.

The next day I noticed that he added me on Facebook and I was slightly surprised. I guess waiting did pay off in the end. When he began chatting to me online,  I figured he must be somewhat interested.

I didn’t hear from him for a couple of days and let’s be honest here. I didn’t really care. I thought he was cute, yes, but was I really attracted to him? He seemed to miss a presence, a spark – something that would really get my heart beating faster.

A few days later, I got a text message out of nowhere asking me if I wanted to grab a drink. I got a bit excited until I realized – his friend was coming too. When we met, I noticed that Lenard was much more engaged in a conversation with me, while Theo never gave me a prolonged stare to show his interest. He talked, surely enough, but there was no extra attention. It didn’t disappoint me as much as add more water to my already melting interest. Also, I didn’t appreciate the fact that I was treated like one of the guys. They had this rule that each person would buy a round of beers for the other two. I thought it was a ridiculous rule, given that I am a girl, but went along with it.symw-beers-joe-via-thebrokenheeldiaries-dot-com

Either way, they were both fun, more so Lenard who was very opinionated and cracked jokes about everything, including his love of sexual innuendos Theo seemed uncomfortable with. But Theo was good-looking and European and I suppose, it made me feel good to walk around with him, as shallow as that sounds.

The next day we met for the Rugby game and after, joined a rooftop party my friends invited me too. They were very surprised to see the Dutch boys there and threw me a couple of inquiring looks. I stayed with Theo the entire evening, slightly interested in him and flirting as much as I could, touching him constantly, but there was no sexual energy between us. Again, he stood out of the crowd, with his big hands moving his unruly hair back every so often, so much that all the girls seemed to drink him up. I felt a sense of pride at this, knowing he really was interested in me. I felt it, though he has made no move up to this point.

By the end of the night, as they walked me back, I really gave up. I have had enough of both of them, inseparable, and Theo who was too chicken to make a move.

And so continued a couple of weeks. He would write to me and invite me out, always accompanied by his best friend. I began to get irritated and bitched to my guy friends about his lack of initiative.

“Maybe he only likes you as a friend?” suggested one of my female friends a little smugly.

“Well why does he keep on inquiring about my day, what I do, where I am?” I almost yelled at her in frustration. I hate it when people turn the problem around and make you sound like you are inventing problems. And they make you feel almost guilty for being so arrogant to assume that someone actually likes you!

My guy friends found this hilarious. I couldn’t care at this point. It was getting ridiculous and I was too old to deal with childish behavior. So, one night when he invited me over to his house to watch “Die Hard”, I told him my perfect Saturday evening did not involve watching an action movie with two guys. Get the point there, mister!die_hard_two_ver2_xlg

But as I was walking down the street the next day, I ran into the Dutch guys by some weird stroke of .. luck? Theo looked me up and down, but let Lenard initiate the conversation for most of the walk. We were going to the same barbecue as it turned out.

It was a freezing August night and I didn’t bring anything to cover myself so as I stood on the street, he offered to “keep me warm”. Keeping me warm consisted of hugging me and awkwardly and tapping my back, as if I was a male buddy and not a girl he was actually interested in.

“Theo” I said “That’s not how you hug a girl!”

“Let me hug you again” he offered awkwardly. I swear to God, good looks can go to waste when someone is that insecure.

This time the hug lasted longer, but just as I began to relax and actually feel he was treating me like a woman, he tapped me again.

ARGH.

Towards the end of the night, we stepped out of the bar. My friend let me borrow her shawl and I put it on to keep me warm for my forty minute walk home. Theo hugged me again, this time with no tapping and I found myself learning into his warm body as he gently caressed my shoulders. Leonard looked us up and down. I suppose we looked really intimate.

I figured Theo would say goodnight and join his inseparable self, but instead he asked me if he could walk me back.

“It’s a thirty minute walk” I said, both challenging and warning him.

“It’s OK” He looked me straight in the eyes uncomfortably.

“You don’t have to” I emphasized. I didn’t actually know if I wanted him to agree or disagree. We have never been one-on-one for longer than ten minutes and this might have gotten awkward as I always felt around him. After seeing he would not give up, I shrugged with a smile. OK, let’s go.

We walked hugging each other all the way back and I think that this physical closeness made it easier for us to be honest.

“So” I asked “What do you think about Dutch girls?”

“How is this related to our conversation about people?”

“Well girls are people. This is merely for anthropological purposes” I added.

He stalled. “I don’t really have much experience with girls.”

As if I couldn’t tell at this point.

“I mean, I know what to do.. I am just too shy about actually doing something” he continued, afraid to look at me.

“I can see that.” I said “You just don’t know how to make a move.”

“The thing is I know what to do. I just don’t know how to get around to doing it. I get nervous”

I looked at him. “Are you nervous right now?”

“Yes” he said looking straight ahead.

I stopped in my tracks and he looked at me questionably. Then I did something I haven’t done since my early twenties, when I thought that making the first move would at least rid of the awkwardness of having to wait for the guy. I leaned in and kissed him. The thing is,  he needed this. This would be the only thing that would make him feel more comfortable and it was long in coming. Poor Theo was not a good kisser. He wasn’t bad, but he was really nervous and that made the kiss unnatural and awkward. I felt like I was kissing a boy and not a twenty-five year old man. His birthday was in a few days. He would be twenty-six. The age when a man has normally experienced a string of dates, one-night stands, relationship(s) and possibly even a threesome.

“That was awful” he admitted after we stopped kissing. I shrugged it off and said “practice makes perfect”. We walked back a little more comfortably and when we were in front of the condo,  I asked him if he wanted to get some water.

He jumped at the opportunity to come up, so we did. Once he got some water in him, I told him he could technically stay but..

He didn’t let me finish the end of that sentence, saying that it was late and he would much prefer that to the hike back.

I offered him the couch, but figured he was harmless and let him sleep on my bed.

Do I look like I would make a move? He confirmed for me and I actually felt sorry for him.

But surprise of all surprises came when he pulled a what I call “Italian” on me and his hands started wandering. I could have stopped him, I know that, but a part of me felt bad. The poor guy needed this. The other part was intrigued. The last one was kind of horny. After all, I was in bed, half naked with a good looking guy. And his kissing was progressing at a fast rate.

“You know” He told me “I really have limited experience. This is as far as I have gone”

I was shocked. I really didn’t know what to say to that. So, I didn’t say anything. I half expected it but to actually hear someone was a virgin at the tender age of almost 26  was unbelievable. The worst is, he was way better looking than Lenard, yet Lenard seemed to have almost a porn star experienced compared to his.

However, I stuck to my rule and did not have sex with him that night. I don’t think he even wanted to. He was still dazed from being in bed with a naked girl. It was amazing to watch his expression as he ran his hands over my body. It was as if he was a sculptor observing a beautiful sculpture he had just molded.

We slept together and the next morning he had to go home, since I was having a barbecue, inviting all of our now collective friends. Had my guy friends found the guy I bitched about in my condo, they would have never let it go.

During the barbecue I ignored him mostly. Being around him was slightly awkward and Lenard with his annoying remarks that got under my skin didn’t help matters. All the winking and giggling made me feel like I was back in high school.

My girlfriends who now saw him for the first time expressed their thumbs up and told me to “go for it.” He was “so cute”! Even when I pointed him out to my brother, he dropped his mouth. I guess I wouldn’t have believed it either. But the reality was, he just wasn’t my guy. Eloquent and confident as he seemed, he lacked fire and sex appeal. So I ignored him until I started to feel bad and then led him onto the balcony and kissed him.

“Just sleep with the guy” offered my brother. “I mean,  it won’t be a big deal for you but it would mean a lifetime for him.” Yes, in reply to your answer. My brother and I talk about everything.

I pondered this thought. Yes, he wasn’t really for me, but I have been with quite a few unworthy guys and here was one who really deserved it. I could change his life. I could be his Stefan (read the German). I have never been anyone’s first.. Not that I have wanted to be. I prefer experienced guys.. but hell. Why not?

I think I was really bored and have not felt anything for a while. It is really sad that I did this for such shallow reasons, because it did not make this ‘thing’ any more memorable.

I suppose a part of me wanted to feel a power that Stefan must have felt when he made me a woman. The other part felt sorry for him. No one should feel inadequate for being a virgin at such an age. Having lost my virginity late in life (two weeks away from my twenty-third birthday) I knew what that felt like. Theo would lose his at twenty-five. I wanted to help him. Hmm, maybe I could also put that on my resume. Teacher/virgin helper.

He stayed over that night and early in the morning, as we woke up and started getting kind of worked up I offered it to him matter of factly. “Soooo.. Theo… you wanna have sex?”

“Um. Yes?” he finally got out. I could have laughed then at how well his serious face concealed the emotion. Ah, good old Northern Europeans!

So we did. It was less awkward than our first kiss and actually not bad at all. Afterwards he took a shower and sat in the living room with his hair wet and an entranced expression on his face. Finally he got up and said he had to go but hoped to see me before his birthday.

He had a week left in Canada.

I guess I was so set on being some perverted form of Mother Theresa that I didn’t bother thinking about the ‘what would happen’. Theo  began to see me as his girl. It was obvious to both of us he was leaving but he was fully set on returning in four months. He didn’t bother me, send me love letters or cry at my doorstep but I felt his need for me.

birthday_cake

Kind of like that. Except I am not blonde

I saw him on the day of his birthday that he was celebrating on the lake shore. I didn’t bring a present. Actually I told him that was his birthday present after sex. I told him no one else would bring such a great one. Not even Leonard.

When he actually paid for my drink and began offering me more, Lenard looked at me in awe and said “You made a Dutch guy un-Dutch.”

All of my friends realized we had a thing going on and made hilarious faces behind Theo’s back. The joke centered around how I made Theo a man. Little did they know how close to the truth they were.

I realized how much Theo changed when on Saturday, who, while we were at a Greek restaurant had walked in wearing a new collared shirt, with his hair freshly washed, smelling of deodorant. There was a Greek festival on the street and everyone was dancing in circles, so he jumped in and began dancing in a circle. When I met him he seemed deadly afraid of dancing and now he was practically turning Greek. When we entered the Latin club, he offered me drink after drink, even though I knew he would normally not do that. In fact, he once mentioned he would never pay for a girl. Then, he asked me teach him salsa and actually turned out to be a great dancer.

Not quite as great

Not quite as professional

When I couldn’t stop laughing at this sudden change, he looked at me and said “You woke me up. You know that, right?” I told him that was probably the most romantic thing anyone has said to me. Seriously. It sounds like a line right out of the movie. I almost answered with “You had me at hello”.

The sex has gotten way better and I quite enjoyed lying next to him as the freezing August weather made it too chilly to go outside. He was so much more relaxed, so much more open and more of a man too. Apparently, having spent lots of time in front of a computer when he was a child, he felt socially awkward for quite a while. I hoped what I did would help him. On the flip side, it could also hurt him and close him off even more. I didn’t want a future with him and he began talking about coming back to stay in Canada indefinitely.

The last night I was at his place, we were watching movies on his couch and I got quite pissed off at him not having bought a bottle of wine. I sat there quietly and he broke the silence, saying he felt really guilty. Then he finally took initiative. He ran out and went to buy a bottle. When he came back, he offered to take me out for Mexican and then he took another one. He paid. (A guy who said he would never pay for a woman. Praise Jesus!)

q

The sex didn’t quite look like that either

The last morning he told me I was the best thing that has ever happened to him. I guess it was a sweet thing to say, but I was his first.  Of course I was the best thing that has ever happened in his life. I gave him the gift of SEX.

The last day was very hard for him. Not only was he leaving me, but he was leaving the closeness that we shared and he wasn’t sure he would find it again. After all, it took him years to find me. By that, I mean a woman willing to de-virginize him.  As we kissed goodbye, I could still see him on the other platform – his eyes red. I was upset for him, but I wasn’t emotional. In a way, I was happy to be rid of him.

Theo was a great guy, he would be a good boyfriend and maybe he would definitely make some girl happy. But for me, I need someone with presence, someone with passion, someone who is strong and who knows how to take initiative. I was still on a quest to find him however long that would take and wherever he would be from.

exposedFor now, nothing is better than settling.

PS. I recently ended it with him and he wouldn’t listen when I told him to remember life is full of pain and disappointment, but you have to take risks. For me, I learned that people need to help themselves. Sure, I made him a MAN. But it doesn’t mean I made him happier. And I surely didn’t make myself happier nor more powerful. The only thing that can make me feel is actually FEELING. 

Etrange Garçon (Strange Boy) (2013)

Greeneyes-51366609578

A story of a guy I was really attracted to who I both understood perfectly and was baffled by at the same time.

His bright green eyes gazed at me from across the room. He was just my type. Tanned and dark haired, with an athletic, well built body and attractive face.  We locked our gazes over and over again as I waited for my food.

I was in Bocas del Toro, Panama. I came to Panama for a teaching job and was traveling for two weeks, before I had to start work in Panama City. That day was my last day of ‘real’ vacation. And that’s (conveniently) the day I saw him.

We received our food simultaneously. We ordered the same thing – hamburgers and fries. They called our order at the same time. When we both asked for mayo, I realized it was now or never.

Where we met

Where we met

“You are Spanish?” I asked in Spanish. He looked it.

“I am French” He responded still in Spanish.

We sat down at the same bench and began talking. Giles was from a small French city close to the Spanish border and that is possibly why he looked so damn Spanish, but also had his mesmerizing green eyes. I just had a huge zit under my nose. Don’t you just love how on time zits are? I was trying to hide it underneath my glasses the whole day, but now without them I felt like it was dominating my whole face. Thankfully, that didn’t faze him.

As I talked to him over our burgers, I realized he was exactly what I was looking for: attractive, smart, witty, easy to talk to and very genuine. Why, oh why did I only meet him today? Little did I know we actually spent an entire week in the same surfing village prior to this and never met. What an irony indeed.

After eating we headed to the beach where we lay around and talked about everything in the world. He told me about his anxiety over flying and I, who also sort of battles with the same fear, understood him perfectly.

I loved that he could talk to me as if he had known me for years. I felt an ease and a depth with him that I don’t usually feel. There was no pretending, no awkwardness, no guessing.. It seemed natural and effortless: this chat on the beach. We swam around and jumped from the dock holding hands. Then took a boat to the main island and made plans to meet that evening in the park.

bocas2

He came bringing candy and talked so quickly I could tell he was nervous which made me feel a little more confident.  We walked to a bar on the dock and sat in a boat. Up until now, I think that was one of the most romantic nights of my whole experience in Panama. At least that part of it. We drank rum’n’cokes on the boat next to the bar, listened to Latin music and finally he leaned in to kiss me.

The rest of the night we danced in the outdoor bar, kissing over and over.. I felt alive. And the strangest thing? He told me the same.

“I feel alive when I am with you” He told me and I believed him partly. It was a little too much, since we only met each other a few hours ago, but he was from France and they love to throw romantic words around.

It was perfect. Up until we went to the beach.

I have this rule of telling guys that I will not have sex. And of course that is the goal. However, my weakness lately has been that I couldn’t resist the foreplay and that had some not-so good results. The point is to decide what you want right away. I am way too curious and unable to think with my head sometimes. This was one of those incidents.

I told Giles I wouldn’t have sex with him, but it was actually my idea to go to the beach. I just needed to spend some more time with him. And to touch him more. As things got heated up, he started expecting I return the favor. Except, note: he never gave me oral. So I am not sure what favor he was really expecting.

Either way, I hate the tit-for-tat childishness, so I gave him a firm NO. Now, instead of acting like a 29 year old he was, he got MAD. He got up and began removing sand from our towel but literally whacking it against the tree. I just sat there with my mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe someone over the age of puberty could be so mad about a lack of a blow job.

We walked in silence, which was broken by me.

“Are we seriously not talking because I didn’t give you a blow job?”

“What do you think?” He replied bitterly and I swear I saw a kind of mental glimmer and even his eyes got darker. But maybe that was just my imagination.

“This is crazy.” I said. “I am not some sixteen year old girl to be forced to give you oral.”

“What? What does sixteen have to do with this?” He almost yelled and walked away, leaving me alone under the rain.

I stood there, unable to process what has just happened. And please believe me when I say that even though what was happening was crazy I actually wanted him more. This fiery exchange ignited some weird twisted feeling in me.

He was waiting for me near his hostel. As I approached he took my head into his hands gently and told me he meant when he said he liked me. He kissed me then. I wanted him even more. How messed up is that?

I agreed to spend the night in his uncomfortable bed just to be close to him for one more night. Then, at dawn, I kissed him and left.

In two weeks, Giles was coming to Panama City for three nights before flying back to France. I knew what I saw were red flags, but I still yearned for him and the fact that I felt lonely didn’t help matters.

Panama City

Panama City

We didn’t meet the first night due to miscommunication, and I should have been very wary when he offered to meet on the last night only. At the end though, he managed to make a plan to meet me in the park near my house. I knew I shouldn’t have gone, but what do you do when you want to see someone so damn much?

As I saw him sitting there in the park near the giant Einstein head, all my negative emotions went away. He was wearing a gray t-shirt that made his tan stand out more and lit up his green eyes. I came in a flowery dress he couldn’t stop fawning over. Our eyes locked again and we couldn’t stop staring at each other as if we were dumbstruck teenagers.

We met near the Einstein head on my street

We met near the Einstein head on my street

As we had drinks and tapas at a nearby Spanish restaurant, he caressed my cheek.

“I remember why I like you so much” He said in that deep voice of his. “I am really glad I came to see you. And now we get to spend the night together. This couldn’t be better.”

I didn’t bother to tell him that he was being presumptuous in the whole ‘spending the night’ idea. Even though he technically wasn’t since I was dying to have sex with him.

We listened to a band play as he caressed my hair. It has been so long since I have had a boyfriend that I allowed myself to fantasize that he was actually with me. My own slightly weird but gorgeous and charismatic man. The man that then pressed me to the wall and kissed me passionately. I wanted him so much. No matter the consequences.

We took a taxi to his hotel and as he took a shower, I lay on the bed pretending to watch TV in a sexy pose, which I adjusted a few times.  He walked out dripping water,a  towel on his hips and lowered himself on top of me. Afterwards, as he entered me a crazy thought also entered my mind.

We are now one.

I have never had this thought as loud in my head, even though I have liked other guys so this surprised me.

The other thing that surprised me even more was that when I tried to actually give him the blowjob he desired so much on the beach, he felt all uncomfortable about it. Actually, he said his body was getting all tingly and he couldn’t handle me even kissing his stomach. What was this, Fifty Shades of Grey? (You can only get this joke if you read the book)

And the final thing that surprised me was that after all the post-sex kissing we slept separately. He never hugged me to him, and even said something along the lines of:

“It looks like this bed has three people in it. There could be another person on your side the way you are so close to me.”

Didn't see the third person

Didn’t see the third person

At that moment I told myself I had imagined it. But now I know it was real.

All night long I kept on dreaming about hugging him close to me. I yearned for it with all my body, but even as I complained about the cold air conditioning, he got up and turned it off but never cuddled me close to him. I have even had a one-night stand cuddle with me in bed, and a guy who seemed so genuine now felt colder than the air conditioning itself.

The next day was his last one. He watched me get ready for work with an adoring smile on his face, then kissed me goodbye, telling me we would meet at 5pm.

I left work early so I could move to my new apartment, get ready and meet with him. But he never wrote me. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t think of anything else. I was on pins and needles  the whole day. I was actually concerned he got killed and ended up calling his hotel twice. Later telling him it was once.

I sat here, unable to eat anything

I sat here, unable to eat anything

He wrote to me in the evening to tell me he was at the Canal, that his day was “amazing!”, that he was with a friend and that he would meet me at eleven a.m.

I was very hurt he wanted to wait until night to meet with a girl he was spending the last day with (make that last night), and the reasoning was that he made some friends he wanted to spend time with. However, I didn’t want to become the nagging wife and sadly,  I wanted to see him too much.

But he never wrote to me  by eleven and as I sat there, staring at the city out my window and crying like there was no tomorrow, I decided “screw this” and removed my makeup. The whole day I felt like there was a knife stuck in my throat. It hurt that much.cryingwoman2

As soon as I was getting into bed, I got a new message.

“I’m so sorry!” It said “Meet me at 12:30 in the park”

And what did I do against my better judgement? I put the damn makeup back onto my puffed up face and ran out the door.

He got outside of the taxi and ran to me, lifting me up in the air. Some guys clapped for us. We got some drinks and talked, but I saw his eyes were different. He no longer looked at me with the affection that lit up his face, and he actually looked troubled. I thought it might have had to do with the anxiety over the upcoming flight. But the point is, the connection we had was gone. He seemed a different person.

We went to dance, but he no longer actually wanted to dance. He didn’t even want to try salsa – too scared he would fail. I realized that he had quite a lot of hangups and there might have been some mental issues he was dealing with.

The sex was also different. It seemed as if he was going through the motions, no longer connected to me. If he ever really was.

As we fell asleep separately I was prepared to say bye to the boy I never really knew. But then came another surprise.

As I woke up early in the morning, the place beside me was empty and the door was left ajar. Assuming he went out for a drink or to the bathroom, I waited for him to come back. He never did. His flight was at 3pm.

There was no note and no explanation.8_fin40

PS. Since he is still on my Facebook, I asked him why he left like that. He said I looked so beautiful he didn’t want to wake me up. Of course, that is a load of bull. He still writes little things to me, but he has yet to write an email explaining his behavior. This is the reason I have not acknowledged them. Not that he deserves it either.

What’s a Girlfriend Got to Do With It? (2013)

surfer

Does culture dictate what is acceptable for men or are there simply assholes regardless of their country?

I was in Panama for a teaching job I found accidentally. You can’t imagine my happiness at leaving behind freezing Canadian winter and heading off to the land of sun, beaches and Latin dancing!

Before I started my job, I decided to take two weeks to travel the country and got a volunteering gig as a hotel helper in a surfing town of Santa Catalina. Basically all I had to do was lie in a hammock waiting for guests, reading a book or sometimes dozing off after a day at the beach.

lazy life in the village

lazy life in the village

I worked alongside a very nice but quite smelly and unattractive bearded American guy Rick who had a crush on me. For the lack of any other company, we would go out at night to one of the few little bars followed by the owner’s dog Darly. The dog would run alongside us, barking at anyone who would get close.

I have spent a few days in Santa Catalina and loved the little village atmosphere, the endless fruits on the trees and the lush nature, but I was bored. So, so bored. The bars closed at ten p.m. so that the surfers could wake up at dawn to do what they do best… Surf.

One night I walked into Chile Rojos pizza bar with Rick, and a bit fed up at spending all my time with him (as well as tired of his arm-pit smell) I joined a table of four guys. Two guys were serious blond Fins, and the other two dark shaggy haired Argentinians.

Chile Rojos

Chile Rojos

One, Pablo, was the most attractive one. Rather, he exuded a mix of confidence, easy-going charm and ruggedness all in one. With a sleek body covered in a few tattoos, he was shaggy haired and slightly bearded. I didn’t fall for him, rather he won me over with his easy demeanor.

At first we became something like friends. We got along perfectly and understood each other’s sense of humor, even though we spoke only in Spanish. That night, as the electricity died in the bar (which was a normal occurrence in Panama), us and the Fins plus Rick and Darly walked to the beach. Pablo and I walked together and he sang me songs in Spanish. Cheesy maybe, but he made everything seem natural.

“That was so lame the way he kept on trying to win you over. He just wants to get into your pants.” hissed angry Rick as we walked home.

“Pablo?” I laughed. “I am not taking him seriously.”

I really didn’t. Pablo was fun, relaxed and sexy. And that was enough.

The next evening I saw him again. He was sitting with his friend Pato (who spoke even less English but was the nicest person) in Chile Rojos and was very excited as I came in. As we started talking, he went over the list of all the guys I know and began quizzing about me about who I found attractive, clearly sorting out through the competition. First came the Fins, then Rick. It was a big bold NO for all.

“What do you think about me?” he asked me in his sing-song Argentinian accent. A little knowing smile on his face.

I avoided the topic and looked a bit uncomfortable, so he gave up. At least for that night.

santa catalina2

I didn’t see him the next day, so I started to miss him a little. He didn’t show up to Chili Rojos for a couple of hours, so I sat there with Rick and another guy hoping and wishing he would come through the door. And just as I was about to give up, in he came with that relaxed grin on his face and that shaggy hair of his sporting a regular attire of T-shirt and surfer shorts.

He sat down near me and began flirting mercilessly.

“So is it a yes?” he asked finally, in a cryptic voice.

“It’s a maybe” I finally uttered, unable to keep on prolonging this any longer.

He seemed to take it as a yes and as we began to part, he offered to go to the beach. Rick thankfully declined and Pato came for a bit, then with a not-so subtle look from Pablo finally said he had to go sleep. As he left, Pablo decided to romance me the Latin way and put on some romantic Argentinian music for me. And he even sang along to it.

We started kissing and then he began to kiss my breasts. I was going to say no except it has really been a while and at this point, who really cared? We went further and further.. until he wanted a blowjob.

OK, so my rule with blow jobs is that I only give one after sex.  After all, I don’t know where his penis has been! Why would I put some unknown object in my mouth? Kids are taught not to do that.

I told him NO. And what did he do? He stood in front of me with his penis sticking out and his arms on his sides. He even tried to grab my hand so I could touch it. And believe me when I say, there was not much to grab onto there. But that’s beside the point. Exasperated, I told him I was leaving. He followed me, now with his penis in his pants, thankfully. We were also accompanied by Darly, who jealous or angry began jumping on me and biting me, seeing as how some unknown boy was all over me. She wouldn’t leave me alone, so Pablo tried to calm her down.

“I want to stay the night with you. We are not going to have sex” he said firmly, holding the dog with the other hand.

I shook my head. “You are not”

“I am. I am coming”

“No. I said you are not”

“Yes, I am grabbing my things”

“Pablo! No!”

“Ok, wait for me. I am coming”

The forest

The forest

And apparently this pushy Argentinian logic worked since the next thing I knew we were walking to my place. By place, I mean an attic in the middle of nowhere. Downstairs lived Rick and if you climbed the ladder up, you would have to sort of walk/crawl through my wooden door. Thankfully Rick never tried it.

“How long has it been since you had a girlfriend?” I asked him.

“Hmm.. Long time” he said as he held my hand through the woods.

I missed sleeping near a guy and living in a little village with woods on both sides of me didn’t help matters. It was really nice to have this shaggy haired VERY PUSHY Latin man with me. Even if he did just stick his wiener in my face.

Pun intended

Pun intended

After we got heated up again, he gave me oral and asked me to reciprocate (which I admit, I hate. It’s almost like ‘I do you. You do me’). I told him about my rule.

“You have some stupid rules” He said. I should have been mad maybe, but it was kind of funny and in fact, maybe he was right. I ended up giving him one. But on second thought, personal rules are good to have and no one should ever argue you out of them or you lose your sense of integrity.

We slept in each other’s arms and in the morning, he rose early for surfing. I looked up at him a bit bewildered. I have never spent the night with a surfer/hippy/tattooed guy. But I figured that was one experience that would be interesting.

To be frank, I avoided him the whole day. I mean, OK,  I wanted to see him but that would entail something else. I couldn’t continue sleeping with him and not having sex. I also couldn’t just walk away. Rather, he probably wouldn’t let me.

That day, however, I didn’t see him and though relieved, I began to wonder – maybe he left!? What if he left? What if I never saw him again?

However, the night after I was walking home when I saw him and Pato strolling towards the beach with a surfing instructor Ronaldo. They asked me to join them and I succumbed. Besides everything, I loved spending time with them. They were funny, friendly, playful and so easy going. If it wasn’t for the almost sex I was having with Pablo, we could be great friends.

Sitting on the beach, Pablo didn’t try to caress me or kiss me in front of the guys.. So when Ronaldo offered me a massage to “relax me”, I saw it as okay. I didn’t see it as anything else. Pablo, who was gone for a few minutes, came back to see Ronaldo massaging my back. Clearly irritated, he offered Pato to leave the beach and when I looked at him quizzically, ignored me.Beach_Bonfire_by_anarsil1

“It’s great, I will drop her off” offered Ronaldo.

“No, no!” I protested “I am coming with you, guys!”

As it turned out on the way back, Pablo did in fact get jealous and could not understand why I would let another man massage me. I couldn’t understand how a massage turned into something so serious? After all, he didn’t act like we were anything more than friends/almost sex partners.

Ronaldo followed us on a bike, clearly thinking he still had a chance but Pablo would not let that happen.

“I am staying with you” He whispered to me. No please. No maybe.

Ronaldo’s face fell and Pablo’s brightened as we walked away together. As we lay together that night (without sex still) we began talking about our lives. He opened up about his life, his mom dying.. And then he uttered my favorite phrase which at the time seemed so genuine but now I have no idea.

“You are my perfect girl” he whispered “I mean we have fun, you are hilarious, pretty.. Everything I want. Would you consider coming to Argentina? We could try dating.”

We could dance tango

We could dance tango

I don’t know if that worked its magic or maybe I was just horny, but we ended up having sex that night. The sex was nothing special, I think it was more the closeness I craved.

That morning was a soap opera. Rick, for some unknown to me reason, decided to practice yoga under my attic window.. meaning Pablo couldn’t get down or he would be seen. I climbed down and tried to distract Rick. I offered him to go surfing so he could finally leave and when that worked, told him I would meet him halfway. Pablo during this time, was browsing through my underwear collection and smirking. This went on for an hour, until he finally climbed down my window and we arranged to meet on the beach.

That day he taught me how to surf and acted as the sweetest guy ever. He only bit my ass twice, and was excited every time I got on my board. “Agarra el tablero!” He would yell on top of his voice and cheer me on as I shakily managed to stay on long enough. You see why I am still of a good opinion of this Argentinian boy.

Oh yeah, a pro like me

Oh yeah, a pro like me

That night, however, he never came and as it turned out later, spent the night on the beach. I left for another place the following day, having cried a bit as I walked home the night I didn’t see him.

Bocas del Toro was comprised of three islands, and close to the border of Costa Rica. I was there for four days when  I saw him randomly strolling down the street. On Valentine’s Day of all days.

bocas

Sure, I was still mad he didn’t come, but to hell with it.. I thought. We spent the day on the beach and the evening eating pasta and flirting furiously. People turned around at us with smiles as we fought and made up playfully within a matter of minutes. His hair was tied up in a small ponytail and he looked a bit like Orlando Bloom from Pirates of the Caribbean. At least that’s what my new friend thought. The poor girl didn’t speak any Spanish and had to spend her dinner listening to us bickering in a foreign language.

We spent the night dancing. Actually, he would stand there distracted watching surfing one second. The next, he would press me to the wall with his body. He told me I was like “a thousand girls in one” – meaning I was that amazing and energetic.

He rented a motel room that night, but for some reason I felt cheap. Especially when coming out of the bathroom, I saw him fully undressed lying on the bed waiting for me. The sex was average once more.

The morning after was my last day in Bocas. I had to return to Panama City to start work. That day however I met Giles (See the French) and since I was extremely attracted to Giles, I later on hid from Pablo in the club.

And good thing, because this is the conversation Pablo and I had two weeks after.

“So Pablo, what are you doing? Are you coming to Panama City?”

“Oh I don’t think so. My girlfriend is coming tomorrow so we might go back to Santa Catalina”

“…Girflriend?”

“Why, does it matter?”

“…YES!?”

“Well I didn’t think it mattered. You never asked.”

“I asked how long has it been since you had a girlfriend. I didn’t assume you actually HAD one.”

Thus the story ends, with a little insight on Argentinian culture, in which it is apparently normal to have an open relationship and cheating is considered as normal as peeing. Who knew? It was my first experience and it shocked me.

Corazon

Who has any similar experience with Argentinians? I would love to hear your stories!

Ten Signs you are a Single Girl in your Late 20s

  1. You have a whole library of books with promising titles like “Why Men Love Bitches” with an ever exciting sequel called “Why Men Marry Bitches”, “He’s Just Not that Into You” (which you forget as soon as you read it and have to re-read again in order not to fall prey to yet another guy who doesn’t want you)
  2. You have memorized parts of dating books and proudly narrate them to your girlfriends in times of their yet another romantic crisis (show him you’re independent! Get him to chase YOU), yet break the rules yourself constantly. “He has to be into me if he was touching me all night.” and “Maybe I intimidated him so he never got the guts to ask for my number. Yes, we kissed. What does that have to do with that?”
  3. You are told constantly that you are ‘too picky’ and need to settle down already. When are you going to start having babies? In your 30s? Did you know how difficult it is to have a sleepless night in your 30s? And how pathetic it is to see an OLD woman in a club wearing leopard tights scoping out a man!
  4. You are on OKCupid, POF or eHarmony. You get all excited when you sign up and get a million messages. Then once it all dies down, you realize that these sites are just like a cheap store. Many bright colors but really static material. All made in China. No pun intended.
  5. You go through Facebook invites for every party hoping there is someone there worth going for.
  6. Some people care about seeing the wonders of the world or learning a new skill when they go away. You pick out your vacations in the hopes of meeting the guy of your dreams (foreign would do!), having a romantic week and then a wonderful long distance relationship during which he confides in you that he has never felt this way, asking you to sponsor him from Cuba because he would love to spend the rest of his life with YOU. In New York.

    Ok, I am in the City of Love. Where are you? Bonjour?

    Ok, I am in the City of Love. Where are you? Sexy French man?

  7. You get yourself pumped for a night on the town with your other desperate girlfriends. Instead you stand around fully made-up drinking an over-priced Margarita and exchanging a few polite words, hoping someone would finally approach you. When they do, it’s yet another Indian guy thinking he’s Italian.
  8. You try to avoid hanging out with your ‘coupled’ friends, but every time you do you make sure to have a great story showcasing your amazing single life. As in “So I have these two guys. One is great in bed, but the other is wealthy. What do I do?” Then you imagine how boring it must be for them to no longer have any sex and how much sex you could (potentially) be having.
  9. You have heard the line “Love will come when you are not looking for it” a million times. How does that even work? Maybe you can stop looking and just go out for some drinks tonight. THEN, when you are least expecting it you will see him out of the corner of your eye.. Your dream man. All because you weren’t looking! Except that means you are still looking. Damn.
  10. You do not have the sex life of anyone in “Sex and the City”. Even Charlotte. And she’s supposed to be the prude.