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 Primal Instinct

cavemanCocky to the extreme and certain in his ability to charm the pants or skirts of off women, Francois is as French as you can get. And he is currently my student.

Did I mention I manage a department in an international school downtown? Sounds impressive, I know. However, it mainly consists of me listening to online dating stories of another manager, who is currently trying to get laid on a site. But that’s a whole other story.

The fact that I haven’t had any sex in months now doesn’t help when I have to work with attractive students only a few years my minor. Maybe I should be the one looking for a quickie on a site, however, thankfully I haven’t sunk so low.

Francois is obnoxious, loud, speaks in a stereotypically French accent (seems like half of it might even be put on), eyes women indiscreetly and is a pain in the ass to teach as he thinks he is above every other commoner. Homevorke? Vy should I do ze homevorke? It is like, you know, fois gras? Zey take ze meat from ze duck. Zis is how I feel ven I do homevorke! 

He pretty much speaks like he is buying a croissant. Twenty four-seven.

Unfortunately, my hormones are that of an eighteen year old girl and the fact that he annoys me doesn’t stop me from getting excited every time he looks at me. Is that crazy? Pathetic is more like it.

The other day, I was out in the hall when he saw me. He then did something simple,yet primal and sexual.

He looked me up and down. But not just that, his eyes dragged across my body in slow motion, letting me see that he was observing every inch of me. Even his eyes darkened with lust. The boy knew exactly what he was doing. And the amount of guts he had to have to assess me as if I wasn’t his teacher or his senior but a girl he wanted to rip the clothes off of and drag off to a cave somewhere was incredible.

I should have been indignant. How dare he?

I am sorry to all my feminist readers (if I have any). I was not.  I felt a bit uncomfortable, sure. My status as a teacher has suddenly diminished and I felt completely vulnerable, like a high school girl would feel… No matter the fact that he is five years younger than me. And I will be honest – that raw, primal gaze got my heart beating extremely fast.

Sure, Francois is a good looking guy. Sure, he knows it and flaunts it. But he tapped into something many women in North America are not used to getting anymore. And that is the honest, sexual, no excuses gaze from a man. It is not “Heyyy, girl, yo lookin sexay!” from a car speeding 60 miles per hour. It is not grinding from the back (does anyone actually do that anymore?) It is definitely not trying to appear less invested than the girl is.

It just is. The sexual gaze. The sign of interest. The intrigue. The lust at its basic form.

I don’t know about the rest of the girls in North America or the girls who are reading this, but I am almost sure they will agree with me here. We all want a quality guy. Someone who doesn’t hit on every girl, someone who treats you with respect, blah blah. I want that too.

But unlike French. Italian and Argentinian girls or even the girls residing in places like Miami, we are not used to the constant sexual tension surrounding us. In Canada men try not to appear too invested, too interested, too obvious, too direct. They push down their natural instinct, not even to do something extreme like look a girl up and down, but to even look at her. And I mean REALLY look at her. Lock their eyes with her, flirt with a look, drag your gaze on, let her know you notice her.

Francois might be the example of the extreme. Yet he tells me (and I believe him)- girls come up to me. I do not know vy? Zey jus do!

And why do you think that is?

Maybe they are so used to being ignored by the other men, that they yearn for a sign of male appreciation. Even if it is as vulgar as an assessment from head to toe. After this long, tedious, cold winter where we seemed to freeze over emotionally, we all need the scent of intrigue and possibility in the air.

No, you don’t need to put on a fake French accent. You just need to focus your gaze, show real interest and not worry that she might not feel the same. That’s her choice. Your choice is to be a real man or a lame guy who yells after a woman from the safety of a  moving car.

Which one gets the girl?


 

 

Reasons for Moving to Montreal: Men

guy“Fuck, that’s a hot dress” a drunken guy yelled at me as I got off the streetcar in Toronto.

“Do you really have to use fuck when complimenting a woman?” I really was trying to see if he would grasp the concept of classiness.

“I’m not tryina pick you up” he grumbled angrily.

I sighed, exasperated. Trying to get some understanding into this guy would be like banging your head against a brick wall.

This is just one person, you might say. One example of a drunken guy trying to chat up a girl. Having lived in Toronto all of sixteen years now, I can safely say this classless boy is my representation of the guys in the city.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying that all Toronto guys lack class, but they surely are lost when dealing with a woman.  I used to think that it is the way it’s supposed to be. It’s normal to walk down the street and not be acknowledged with a smile or a meaningful glance from an attractive guy. But when it becomes nearly impossible to meet a quality man on the streets, bars and at events, a girl really begins to run out of options.Men flirting with woman on street

This is why I love Montreal. Only five hours away from Toronto, it has a culture unique to our typically North American city. Even with its freezing, depressing winters and piles of snow, Montreal has retained an air of possibility that Toronto simply lacks (but the damn snow, alas – not). I can walk through the streets and be met with inquiring, interested and flirty gazes. I can look at the guy I am interested in and get a real reaction, unlike the glassy, scared deer in the headlights look I get in Toronto.  Let me really break down why I believe artsy Montreal has way more potential than busy Toronto.

1. Guys are much cuter. Not only that, their eyes flicker with a spark, a sense of interest… while Torontonians generally look bland with eyes that express nothing

2. They know how to dress

3. The know how to flirt. They can strike up an interesting conversation, during which they look you in the eyes and seem actually interested in what you have to say instead of too busy thinking how to get with you. Toronto guys on the other hand, really don’t know how to approach you in a classy way. This is the way I have been flirted with in the past.

a.       Hey, so my friend is thinking of getting a beard. What do you think?(The friend comes up conveniently) Beard, no beard?

b.      Hi, uh. So you come here often, uh? (eyes are usually huge and all over the place)

c.       Dude, look at your shirt. That’s awesome. You’ve been to Costa Rica! High five! (I unwillingly raise my hand so he doesn’t look completely lame. I can’t believe I have just been called ‘dude’. I can assure you I don’t look like one)

d.      Awkwardly staring. Even if I smile, he doesn’t approach.

e.      Heyyyy, whereyougoingprettygurl? (drunken group slur)Comeback! Wewannatalktoya.

While Montreal flirting usually goes along the lines of simple:

a.       Hello, I am Frederick. What is your name?

Easy, breezy and under control.

3.       Men have more of a sense of who they are. They have a culture, an individuality, a personality and something to say. They do not use lines from “The Anchorman” or “The Game”. They do not treat you as a “dude”. They are quite aware that you are a lady and should be treated as such.

4.      The hipsters ACTUALLY have a personality! Whereas the Toronto hipsters are a pretentious wannabee sack of nothing interesting to say and no personality underneath all that get-uppretentious_hipster_by_jakumetsu-d3be765

5.       There is a sense of playfulness and possibility in the air, whereas Toronto lacks all of the above.

I am aware that Toronto women are partly responsible for the lack of action on the guys’ part. I know from talking to countless guys that their bitchy attitude scarred the guys for life and now they are too wounded to make a move. So, they would rather pretend they are better than you or ignore you. The reality is that even if they do talk to you, there is no sense of spontaneity in them. The conversations are a bit pre-programmed and even the voices sometimes sound robotic. I used to try all sort of book methods such as smiling, approaching even and asking questions that might lead to a conversation. I used to think it was me that did not make enough effort. Montreal shows all girls that there is no such thing. That we do not have to make it seventy percent easier for the men, but instead the men should find the courage to approach you. You smile to the man and BAM, he smiles back, following it up with the approach. This is the way it used to be and we seemed to lose all sense of this flirty culture, if we ever had it to begin with. Yes, our economy is better, but the passion truly thrives in Montreal.

Please share where you live and how it compares to my observations.

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!)

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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)

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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.

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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.

For all Us Passionate Girls

I am a passionate girl. Which means that I want to feel it, I want the guy to show it and I find it hard to live without it. Unfortunately I do, on a daily basis.

If I picture my perfect love life it is always accompanied by some sort of a beach, a flowy dress and bare feet with a lot of running, dancing and kissing. Unfortunately for me, no matter how desperate I am to feel passion, it feels as if I’m a always pushing for it.. But never really feel it. I want to shake with desire. I want to do crazy things and I want to feel crazy over someone, even if it is later accompanied by a lot of tears and sad music.away-field-girl-red-dress-running-Favim.com-161462

However, just as I crave passion, I also tend to be quite passionate about expressing my anger with a guy. There are some girls that can calmly wait out a situation, then turn it around in their favor. I am in awe of them. If I get mad, I’m like a bottle of soda you shake for too long. Reason fades away. Logic remains, but it is expressed in a pretty loud way. I need the guy to understand why I’m mad. I need to talk it over. NOW. Or I will burst. Afterwards, when I’m done exploding, and we a talk it over, the whole matter is usually done with. I become calm and reasonable and happy.

Don’t think that I attack men with scissors, or throw dishes at them. But I need to get out my anger and frustration right away. Otherwise I will not be able to do anything. Here’s a great example: you had a bit of a fight with your boyfriend and never made up. You talked it over calmly, both said sorry, but he never kissed you afterwards. Just left you hanging. You both get into bed, he hugs you good night and that’s it. Just falls asleep. In the last case, this happened to me while visiting my ex (long distance) boyfriend two days ago. Strangely enough, an identical accident occurred with my previous ex-long distance boyfriend two years ago. Maybe, a reasonable girl would go to sleep and deal with it in the morning. What does a crazy girl like me do?

  1. Roll on the other side of the bed. As physically far away from his as possible. (Without falling)
  2. When he asks what’s wrong say “Nothing…” Whilst fuming terribly.
  3. As he falls asleep, become infuriated again. How the hell does he not know I am mad?
  4. Start fuming loudly.
  5. He asks what’s wrong again. Say “You know what’s wrong.”
  6. When he fails to understand and falls asleep again, begin making strange sobbing noises
  7. When he doesn’t respond, saunter into another room and sit there fuming and making a mix of slobbering/sobbing/angry noises so the jerk finally wakes up. I mean how can he sleep peacefully when I am so upset?
  8. When he finally comes out and looks at you in an exasperated manner, start blaming him of being cold. Not affectionate. That you feel like you are married with him for years.
  9. When he asks you to come to bed, stay seated and angry, wanting him to plead more.
  10. Finally getting tired of the stupidity and wanting to cuddle against him you shuffle back to the bed, yearning with all your heart for him to hug you and kiss you and tell you how much he needs you. And maybe some make-up sex?make-up-sex-couple-dating-flirting-ecards-someecards

This is a truthful example of what happened to me two years ago and this is very similar to what happened two days ago when a long distance boyfriend I went to visit for three days pulled this on me. This time I wasn’t as crazy as what I portrayed, but I was so upset that I couldn’t sleep for hours and paced around the living room sobbing. I think there’s nothing worse than being with a guy who no longer wants to have sex with you. And you begin feeling like a block of wood next to him.

The next morning I thought that we resolved everything and still he never made a move on me. Even in the morning, when it looked like we finally made up, he didn’t want to spend another minute in bed with me, but suggested we get up early to go to mass. To pray for my sins, I suppose?

At  this point, I got so upset that I acted like a complete girl – turned around and started crying. How sexy, right? I was leaving the next day and he preferred to go to church instead of spending time with me, instead of any intimacy. When I told him I was thinking of catching the next bus back home, he told me I was immature. When I asked him if he would stop me he  said “No.” That he would if he were in high school, that this was too much for him and even though he knew I was hurt he ‘couldn’t do anything’.

huggingDo anything? All we really need sometimes, as girls, is for the man to hug us, kiss us and tell us he needs us. This is not rocket science. And I truly believe that it’s better to express yourself and be passionate, then to go through your life second guessing every action, being careful not to say the wrong thing and not acting on instinct.

I would never hit a guy, but if I did, I want someone who would envelop me in his arms and tell me how ridiculous our fight is. I want a strong man who would not let me leave. He would go after me and grab my bag out of my arms, so I would stay. I want a man who can give me both passion and reason with me when I’m being ridiculous. But love me because I am that ridiculous sometimes. Especially when I get mad.

What about all of you, girls?