For a while I was in a rut.
After things fizzled out with Dan my romantic situation seemed bleak.
In the little resort town it seemed there were no eligible men to be met and yet I saw them everywhere. I would pass them on the bike path or in town, these beautiful tanned creatures, and wonder who they were and why they never seemed to be at any of the same social gatherings as myself. Were they tourists? Locals? Figments of my imagination? I met a few dudes, but they were either in a relationship or a sleazy slut who loved his surfboard more than he could ever love a woman. Not that I wanted a relationship, just a fuck buddy who was a somewhat decent guy. In a town where everyone knew my (overprotective) brother I was unwilling to take up with someone who might sully my relatively untarnished reputation.
When I first got to NZ it was much of the same. I saw hot men in passing everywhere I went, but the only people I actually met were German couples. I wasn’t overly concerned, I had grown pretty accustomed to this way of life.
Then I went to Nelson and everything changed. I actually went out to the bars. I watched Jill and her friend in action and tried to replicate: see a cute guy, go over, say hello. Easy. Every night we’d hit the pub and every night I’d meet at least five cute, interesting guys who would trip over themselves at the chance to know me. It was incredible. For the first time I was practicing the art of flirting with strangers as my confidence sky rocketed.
Then we moved to our new, semi-permanent home: a surf town not unlike the one from which we came. It was paradise and filled with plenty of sexy, sun-kissed surfers from all over the world. I had had a taste of vixentry, I couldn’t stop now!
Each man I met was hotter than the last. I originally had my eyes on a gorgeous Argentinian. He and I met in the kitchen at our campground and I could feel his sexual presence instantly. His soft flowing voice and huge brown eyes bore into my soul and made my lady parts tingle, especially the sensual manner in which he would utter my name. I was convinced I would sleep with him and had decided on the perfect night: it was our last night at his campground and there was a salsa party. I would down a bottle of wine and ask him to show me some moves then seduce him and drag him back to his van.
But that day the Gods of lust threw me a curve ball….
I had left work and was sitting outside the library, mooching free WiFi and chatting to Kennedy. From a few seats down a voice called out, “Do you mind if I smoke?”
I glanced over towards the voice making the enquiry to the girl sitting between us. Holy Hell was he ever hot! Typical surfer: insanely tanned, blonde shaggy hair with a lip ring. My mouth dropped. The girl answered “No” but then immediately got up and left giving me a less restricted view. I stumbled over my words while I watched him as he stubbed out his cigarette, got up and began crossing the street to one of the pubs. He was wearing a t-shirt with the pubs logo on the back, clearly he worked there.
I tried to forget his beautiful face and went for a beer at Kennedy’s work. Later, I hitchhiked back to the campgrounds, started drinking my wine and tried to make myself look presentable. When I got to the party, Argentina was the first one I saw. He called out my name and hugged me tightly, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. I began chatting and mingling and then, I saw him: the lip-ringed babe of my dreams! He was here! He lived here! I was overwhelmed.
The salsa dancing commenced but the night didn’t go as planned. Argentina would only re-appear every now and then to ask me for a cigarette or some wine. When the two of us danced it felt awkward and forced and when we talked we found we didn’t have much to say to each other.
Things up until this point are hazy, all I know is suddenly it was late, Kennedy had shown up, and the lip-ringed stud and I were dancing together like fools. He asked me if I wanted to go for a smoke. He had his own pouch and even offered me one. He was rapidly becoming more and more attractive to me.
Outside on a porch swing he suddenly kissed me and next thing I knew we were intensely making out. The lip ring kept rubbing against my lips, it was such a turn on.
In my drunken stupidity, I confessed to checking him out earlier at the library.
“You were there? How could I have missed you, you’re so gorgeous.”
The two of us walked down towards the staff area. I stopped to use the toilet and when I came out, his mouth resumed its attack on mine. I was terribly aware that about 15 people were sitting up at the kitchen and watching so I pulled away, slightly worried that I would blow my chanced with Argentina (who I wanted to keep on the sidelines.)
“Come back to my room,” he cooed, “We can cuddle.”
“It’s late and I have to work in a few hours.”
“We can just sleep, I have roommates anyway.”
I didn’t believe him. I was tired and didn’t want a group of people who I had just met to see me go home with this guy who I had also just met. I told him I would think about it and maybe show up in a little bit. He didn’t believe me and left looking disappointed.
I began sprinting past the kitchen when I heard Kennedy call my name.
I paused and sat down beside her, relaying my conundrum.
“Go for it,” she encouraged.
Just then, Argentina asked me for another smoke and I went OFF at him. I accused him of using me and how I was sick of every guy taking advantage of me. He retreated fearfully and my mind has been made up: I was getting into Lip Ring’s bed.
I showed up at his dorm room and gently knocked. A British girl answered.
“I’m sorry, I might have the wrong room.”
But his head appeared around the corner, “I can’t believe you came!”
Just then, an unseen roommate from a top bunk unleashed on me:
“NOPE! No way, not happening! Get out of this room right now, you’re not welcome here. It’s time for you to go! Leave!”
“We’re just going to sleep,” he insisted.
But the girl was unconvinced and continued to berate me.
“She can stay, they’re just going to sleep. You’re just going to sleep right?” the British girl asked me.
I quickly nodded.
“Then it’s okay!”
The girl piped down but the damage was done. I felt incredibly awkward, uncomfortable and afraid of the fury I would face when my alarm clock went off in a mere 3 hours.
Maybe this girl had to work early, maybe this dude brought home chicks all the time and kept up his roommates, maybe she had a thing with him and was jealous, maybe she was just having a bad night and wanted some rest. Whatever the reason, I don’t blame her, but MAN did she ever clitblock me!
“I should go,” I whispered nervously.
“No, stay,” he begged, “It’s fine.”
But I couldn’t relax enough to cuddle.
“Sorry,” I offered weakly as I jumped up and ran out the door.
One day when I write my autobiography it will be called: “My Awkward Sexual Life.”
The next day when I had made it through the torture of my workday, I retreated to our new home stay: a backpackers close in town where some friends from home were currently located. They were all amped up to go to Summer Jam, a weekly party in town featuring cheap beers and live reggae music, but I was hesitant. Both Argentina and Lip Ring had mentioned they would be there and I was embarrassed to face them. Although, I did want to see Lip Ring so I could explain my awkward actions and hopefully get another chance. I never did see him, but Argentina was there and offered me a shot of vodka and a heartfelt apology. I gave him my forgiveness and offered him my friendship along with one last cigarette, as a peace offering. We hugged and I was happy to have him as a friend and nothing more.
As disappointed as I was not to see Lip Ring, I made the most of my night by chatting to everyone I could and tearing it up on the dance floor.
I went outside for a smoke and a guy approached me and asked is he could have one.
“Sure,” I said. He introduced himself and we started chatting. He was a local guy and a sponsored surfer who had just returned from Aus. We talked a little and then I said goodbye and left to find my friends. Later in the evening I saw him again and he asked for another smoke. I hesitantly agreed. He took my entire pouch, turned his back to me and began rolling cigarettes for all of his mates. When he finally returned it to me he didn’t even thank me and then went back to ignoring me. I was peeved at myself for being so trusting, but continued on.
As Kennedy and I went to leave, he was standing at the front gate, “So, what are you doing now?” he asked.
“Going home to sleep.”
“Wrong answer, you’re coming home with me.”
“I don’t think so.”
He then began screaming at me as I walked away, “You missed your fucking chance! Big time!”
On the one hand, this situation caused me to have an epiphany: People will treat you the way you let them. I do need to start standing up for myself especially when it comes to men. But seriously…
What’s a girl got to do to find a decent guy to bang?!