Never Have I Ever… (2013)

191758__ender-amp-39-s-game-girl-lake-water-lying-fog-tear-leaves-hair-face_p

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!

Advertisements

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!