0

A Risky Return

I paced the floor anxiously.  I stood up, sat down, stood up, sat back down.  I let out a disgruntled moan.

The time had come.  My cousin and his wife would be returning from their trip in only a couple short days and I needed to make a decision on where I would go next.
My mother and I were meeting in Bali in a month’s time, so it seemed silly to begin a new job and settle down in a new place, only to have to pick up and leave soon after.
I didn’t want to stay where I was so I considered travelling for the month, but was seriously low on funds.  I tried to find a temporary job doing farm work or fruit picking, but did not receive a single response.
The only option that really appealed to me was returning to the surf town.  I reasoned that I could get my old job back, have a few couches here and there to crash on, and that it was necessary because I really truly missed my friends and needed them in my life.  All that was true, but maybe the real subconscious reason for my decision was that I wanted to see Nick, even though my heart started pounding and my skin started sweating anytime I thought about seeing him.  It had been nearly a month since his announcement and I had yet to respond.  I knew that seeing him would be inevitable, so I decided to try and be the bigger person and call a truce.
My fingers trembled when I dialled his number.  After an eternity he finally answered, I took a deep breath and firmly spoke my peace.
“I’m trying to be happy for you, because I know that this is all you’ve ever wanted,” I told him.
“That’s not true -” he interjected.
“Do NOT interrupt me.  I’m speaking now,” I spat and he shut right up.  “Anyway, I’m coming back to town and I know we have all the same friends and I know I’ll have to see you so I wanted to tell you that I don’t hate you and that we’re cool, but in no way can I ever be your friend.”
He said he understood and thanked me for my call.  I hung up the phone and got to work planning my return.
Oh dear God, what have I done?


I had changed and so had the town.  It was noisier and more chaotic than I had ever remembered, chalked full of all the visiting summer vacationers. I felt reborn and vowed that this time around I would be the most social version of myself and say yes to every experience offered to me.

I met up with Kyle and the two of us walked the beach.  Of course, the second person we ran into was Nick…  He and Kyle chit chatted, while I stood off to the side.
“Nice to see you,” Nick smiled at me, “Otis is in the truck if you want to say hi.”
I spent the rest of their conversation cuddling Otis, who had become a full-grown dog in my absence.
After finally escaping the awkwardness that felt like it lasted a lifetime, I received apologies from both guys for putting me in such a situation.  I told them both not to walk on eggshells around me and that I was fine, but the minute I walked into Kennedy’s house I began drinking heavily…

That night we celebrated my return with an epic chicken dinner cooked by Jill, followed by lots of wine and joints and cigarettes, followed still by a quick ride into town where we would proceed to dance the night away.  I met up with heaps of friends including one in particular who had messaged me earlier in the day named Fred.

… A little backstory on Fred: He and I met shortly after I first moved to town.  Jill and I were sitting on the beach and a group of guys walked by and called out ‘cheers!’ to us while simultaneously tipping their beer bottles in our direction.  They were cute, friendly and drinking so we decided to join them.  They were a group of local street artists and I hit it off particularly well with Fred.  We all ended up getting loose at the bar.  Fred and I snuck out the back to smoke a joint and laugh about our same stupid sense of humour.
“You’re really cool, we should be best friends.  No, seriously, we should be best friends,” he insisted.
After that, we chatted back and forth and he ended up meeting me at the drum circle.  He insisted I come to the bar to have a drink and dance with him. It was getting late and I had work in the morning so I told him I was heading home.  He leaned in to kiss me.  In all my stoned glory, I dodged his smooch and yelled out, “Did you just try to kiss me?!”
“Um, yeah that was my intention…”
I was all too aware of some of his chick friends standing out of his line of vision and filming the entire scene on their phones.  I felt so incredibly awkward, truthfully, I was attracted to Fred in a lot of ways and I was curious to kiss him, but I had just started dating Nick and didn’t want to betray him.  Instead of explaining any of these things, I just turned around and ran out of the bar.  After that, Fred and I were less friendly, but we’d still chat here and there, I’d run into him every so often and we’d have a drink together…

But this time, dancing at the same bar where he first made a move, I didn’t turn away when he leaned in to kiss me.
When everyone began parting ways and heading home for the night, Fred turned to me and asked me to spend the night with him.  Back at his house, drunk and turned on by the prospect of a new partner, I threw him down on his bed and attacked him with all the prowess and seduction within me.
He was tender and attentive, thumbing my nipples and kissing my breasts.  When he took off his pants my jaw dropped at his size, the largest I’ve ever had without a doubt.  He fucked kind of fast, which was slightly painful, but I managed to slow down the tempo.


 

I woke up, naked and sprawled across his bed.  My mouth was dry and I was disoriented, but something had woken me up.  It was an older man standing in the open doorway, we made eye contact before he slammed the door shut in embarrassment.  I had a sudden flashback of stumbling into a grandiose house, chalked full of expensive looking art pieces.  And then it hit me: Fred lived at home.  Fred lived at home and we had just spent the entire night having loud, boisterous sex.  I was mortified.  Even more so when I had to get up and be introduced to Fred’s dad and even more so when he had to drive Fred and I into town because apparently we had cabbed into the middle of butt-fuck no where and Fred had lost his license earlier in the month due to a DUI.

Once in town, we went to part ways.  He asked what my plans were for the night and I told him about a show I was meant to go to.  Not even an hour later he messaged me saying he had gotten a spare ticket and would see me there.  I couldn’t help but grin.
“Be careful,” all my friends warned, “He obviously likes you a lot.”

My friends had ditched the show and I hadn’t seen Fred anywhere.  I was just about to leave myself when there he was, leaning against the front door frame, chatting to one of the ticket girls.  When I saw him, he looked embarrassed as he pulled me close to him,
“I was just trying to guess where this girl is from.  I thought Germany, but my friend thought Russia so I had to come over and find out,” he explained nervously.
I just laughed and brushed it off, happy that I had finally run into him.  We spent the rest of the night dancing, drinking vodka and making out against the bar.  When he took me home I told him how uncomfortable I felt meeting his dad.
“My dad really likes you, I’m glad you met him.  I don’t bring girls home very often, and I want you to get to know my family because I want you to be around a lot.”
I blushed.  My friends were right, he obviously did like me… a lot.


Fred asked to see me the following night, but I told him I needed a night to myself.  He expressed his disappointment, but asked me if he could cook me dinner at the beach on a following night.  I could barely contain my excitement at the prospect of such a romantic date, but felt sideswiped when he mentioned that a couple of his friends would be joining us.  Ashamed that I had misread the situation, I desperately texted Jill and begged her to join us.
Once we were all sitting and I was desperately trying to relax, who should walk over, but Max and Brandon and Kyle and bevy of the rest of Nick and my shared friend group.  I knew they were also planning a barbecue but thought they had chosen another spot.  To my horror, they decided to join us and I let out a huge sigh of relief that Nick was not amongst them.
Long story short, we all got stinking drunk and Fred and I disappeared back to my tent, but ended up just passing out on top of each other.

I woke up covered in sweat and with a vicious hangover, I rolled over and groaned with the pain.  Fred awoke and suggested we treat ourselves to a lazy hungover day at my campground.  We smoked weed and swam in the pool, smoked more weed and got breakfast, smoked even more weed and had sex and then smoked a little more while hanging out in the jungle.  We finally left the grounds to catch sunset and smash a pizza on the beach.  We parted ways and promised to get together soon to watch a movie, but after that day things changed drastically.


Fred stopped responding to my messages, whenever I’d see him out he’d make an excuse to leave, yet he would tell me how beautiful I was and kiss me in public, but then I’d hear stories about him leaving with other women.  I confided in my friend Reese and she insisted none of it was true.
“I know Fred really well, he’s not the kind of guy who picks up random girls at the bar.  He’s a sensitive artist type.  Trust me, he’s a good one.”
Maybe so, but it seemed he had moved on from me and I wondered desperately what had changed.

On Aussie Day, high on M and feeling alone, I made the mistake of calling him up and telling him I wanted to see him.
“I’m fucked up,” he admitted, “I want to see you too, but I don’t know if I can make it back into town, you could come here though.”
“Why don’t you text me the address and I’ll try to get a lift,” I suggested.
“Yes, that would be awesome.  I’ll text you right now, I really hope I get to see you.”
I never received a message and I spent the next day wallowing in my hangover and hating myself for being such a fool.

A couple days later, I saw him out, but walked away before he could notice me.  Sitting down on the patio with my friends, I tried not to notice him leave with a skinny brunette.
When Reese arrived and I told her, she was in disbelief and disappeared to get the scoop from one of Fred’s friends.
“Okay babe,” she said upon returning, “this is going to hurt really badly, but it’s better for you to know so you can move on.  That girl he left with is his girlfriend, apparently they’ve been dating for a while.”
Ouch.
“And on top of that, supposedly he fucks a new girl every week.  I’m so sorry, he had us all fooled.”
Double ouch.

I tried to be strong and laugh it off like I didn’t care, but I fell apart.  All the Nick issues I’d buried inside came bubbling to the surface.  I told everyone I didn’t want a boyfriend, but I’d used Fred to distract myself and to replace that giant gaping, Nick-shaped hole in my life.  I cried, a lot.  I could not stop.  I left the bar and went home where I cried myself to sleep.


At 7 am I staggered into work hungover, sleep deprived and depressed.  My co-worker and I smoked a joint before starting on our cleaning duties and the weed helped numb me.  In fact, all I’d been doing since I’d returned was drinking, smoking weed and using hard drugs and the chemicals were reeking havoc with my emotions.  On top of it all, after finishing my shift, I received an angry phone call from my dad, accusing me of being a shitty daughter.
“You’re right,” I admitted, “My life is an absolute mess right now, but I’m going to try harder.”
I wanted to go back to sleep, but my tent was too hot so instead I met some friends at the beach.  The moment I got out of the water I made eye contact with a smiling Fred, walking towards me, blissfully unaware of the revelation I’d just received.
I panicked.  I had no idea what I wanted to say to him.  So I did what I do best and quickly ran away from the beach.

That evening, I was still too terrified to face him, but instead constructed a long text message.  I knew it was the cowards way out, but I didn’t want to see him and I had to get some things off my chest for my own sake.
I just told him that I thought we were friends and he really disappointed me by being like every other Aussie guy.  I explained that I never wanted a relationship, but would have appreciated honesty and a bit of respect.
He apologised for being distant and blamed it on his upcoming move, before asking me to hangout the next day.
My response?
“The reason I’m saying these things is not because of you being distant.  We live in a small town, and I’m not an idiot.”

I didn’t expect a response and wasn’t surprised when I didn’t get one.  I seriously questioned my judge of character, took a deep breath and tried to make the most of my remaining days in town, thankful that I had Bali to escape to.

 

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1

Fear of the Unknown

Why don’t I want to write about him?
Why can’t I really talk about him?
Even when I do let myself think about him, it’s for brief moments, in small flashes, I never let myself go to deep.

Is it because I think he’s some fleeting image not meant to last?
Is it because I know it’ll never work out?
Is it because I know if I let myself think too hard about him, I’ll talk myself out of it?
Because the last thing I want to do is stop… The way I feel right now, I couldn’t if I tried.

Not when he’s always looking at me intensely with those bright eyes, a faint smile on his lips.  And when I ask why, he simply says, “You’re so beautiful.”
Not when he wants to cook for me, open doors for me and massage me, just cause he can.
Not when he picks up a case of ginger beer for me, because he remembered that I mentioned I was craving it the other day.
Not when he has a rock hard body, perfect penis, beautiful face and an accent I could die for.
Not when he is the best sex of my life.
No. Fucking. Way.

I tried to convince myself I was in control and it was all under my terms, but this weekend I realized how hard I was falling and now I’m terrified of hitting the rock bottom.


When I think back, it started a couple weeks ago while I was scrolling through Instagram.
I came across a photo that made my heart race.
“Sunday hikes with this guy <3” her caption read.  The photo hadn’t even finished loading, but I knew what it was and yet still, I waited.  I subjected myself to the pain of seeing her and Dan standing in front of a big tree, smiling, arms wrapped tightly around one another.
I already knew, but this confirmed it; I didn’t expect it to sting so bad.
But it was this incident that gave me the extra incentive to message back the cute guy I’d met at the bar and ask him out.  I wanted to move on, I wanted to meet a nice guy and experience some intimacy and I didn’t want to wait.
Apparently, this guy did not want the same things as his texts went from flirty to downright creepy.  I told him to forget it, but I still really wanted to go on a date, I’d actually been looking forward to it.  That’s when I decided to test the old ‘third time’s the charm’ theory and get back on Tinder.  I’d struck out in Canada and New Zealand, but maybe Australia would be a different story.

I matched with my first local guy and he messaged me right away.
He was sweet and asked a lot of questions and made interesting banter other than the usual small talk.  His pictures didn’t show much of his face, but he seemed pretty cute.  He asked me if I’d ever skateboarded and when I said no he invited me to join him for a skate.
On my way to meet him, a guy cruised by on a skateboard while I was coming in on my bike.  I looked him over and smiled and he smiled back.  Could this be the guy? I wondered, hopeful.  He passed without a word.  Damn, too good to be true!
I locked up my bike and wandered down the parking lot and saw him walking back and we both started laughing at ourselves for missing each other.  We walked down to the beach so he could stretch out.  He was very talkative, kind of ADD, but I didn’t mind, it took the pressure off of me to talk.  He treated me to ice cream and the two of us skated down the bike path and continued into another parking lot.  We chatted, quoted stupid movies, laughed and had a sword fight with two sticks.  I walked with him back to his car and we hugged goodbye.
“I’d really like to hangout again,” he said.  “Can I add you on Facebook?”
“Sure, I can give you my number too,” I stated boldly.  He was cute, sweet and I’d had a fun time.  Besides, I was pretty sure he was hiding a banging body under his shirt and I was keen to find out for certain.
He mentioned he and his mates possibly going for beers and I suggested maybe Jill and I would meet them on the weekend.
The moment I got home, he messaged me saying how cool I was and how glad he was to have met me.
This is all too good to be true, what’s this guys angle?!

He messaged me again a couple days later asking if I wanted to check out a waterfall with he and his puppy.  I happily agreed.
When I climbed into his ute, his ridiculously cute puppy climbed onto my lap and gently licked my face.
“This is Otis, I just rescued him two weeks ago.”
Are you kidding me?  That’s fucking adorable.
We chatted intermittently on our walk down, mostly he talked, about anything and everything.
When we reached the waterfall I was dumbstruck.  It was incredible, like something out a picture book.  It was a little cool, but I didn’t care, we both dove into the perfect pool full of glowing lily pads and lined with deep cavernous rocks.  I finally got to see his beautiful body and it did not disappoint.
He turned to me and said, “You’re really cool, and I don’t think I can just be your friend.”
“Oh yeah?” I replied nervously as I looked down and giggled and he swam away.  I wanted nothing more for him to come back and kiss me.
We both said very little as we started walking back.  An anxious Otis had burrowed into my strewn clothing and they were covered in mud.  I could only laugh as he apologized profusely.

Back in the car he asked me if I’d ever been to a particular neighbouring town, when I shook my head no he asked if I wanted to check it out and grab a bite to eat.  I was meant to meet Jill, but was getting the feeling she might bail, besides I was intrigued by this creature and wanted to see where the date would go.
Neither of us quite realized how far away it was and when Jill messaged me asking if we were still hanging out, I began stalling until she eventually decided she was too tired anyway.  I felt like a bitch, but I didn’t care, I now had an unlimited time to spend with him.
We sat outside eating fish and chips and giggled while cuddling on the bench for warmth.
We started back and had been driving a while when he suddenly slowed and pulled over.
“This is really lame, but I just really want to kiss you.  Would that be alright?”
“You shouldn’t ask, you should just do.”
“I’m not a great kisser,” he admitted.
“Shut up,” I grabbed his face and kiss him gently.
When we parted he said, “But I am good at this,” and began kissing down my neck.
Oh my!
We made out in his truck for a few minutes, our hands exploring each other’s bodies while Otis squirmed uncomfortably between us.
“I don’t think I can keep kissing you like this without wanting to do more, but I don’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable.”
“I don’t feel rushed or uncomfortable,” I said, throwing him a wicked smile.  What the fuck did I want to wait for?
“We can cruise by mine, feed the dog and see if the house is empty,” he suggested as he had just moved back and was living with his mom, but she was practically living with her boyfriend so he pretty much had the house to himself.

We stopped in another town so he could show me the river.  We walked along it with Otis while we cuddled and flirted.
We got to his empty house and sat talking some more when he suddenly asked me what I liked in the bedroom.
“Umm, no one’s really asked me that before,” I stammered.  “I’m pretty open to most things… What about you?”
He shrugged, “I’m easy.”
Shortly after, he looked at me hungrily and said, “Let’s go to the bedroom, I want to get you naked.”
We both stripped and kneeled face to face on the bed, our bodies barely touching as we kissed.  By the time his hand began exploring between my legs he moaned, “God, you’re so fucking wet!”  I was actually dripping for him.  I didn’t even know my body was capable of such a feat.
He fucked me with his gorgeous cock for close to two hours and in every different way.  He explained he had trouble finishing with a new partner, I had orgasmed twice so I didn’t care.  We finally stopped for sustenance and stood naked in the kitchen nibbling chips and cookies.  It was 2 am so I stayed the night, resting peacefully in his strong arms.

In the morning he made me breakfast and drove me to work.  I felt myself growing grumpy as he fussed around with the dog before announcing he forgot we had to empty the tailgate first.
“I’m gonna be late!” I snapped.  I tried to reign in my annoyance when he called a friend and offered to pick him up (thankfully, the friend declined.)  It’s been hard, but I’m trying not to worry about time as much because here, people generally don’t and it’s rather refreshing.  I did make it to work exactly on time by some divine miracle and gave him a quick kiss before running in.  I tried not to give him too much thought, but whenever I pictured his naked body I could feel the wetness creeping in.  He was great but I had some concerns.  From what he told me and what I’d seen on Facebook, I’d pieced together that he had dated an Irish girl for over a year and even went overseas for her, but she dumped him saying it was pointless since she didn’t plan to return to Aus.  He travelled alone for a while before returning.  They’d only been broken up a couple months and were still in contact.

Saturday night rolled around and his friends had all ditched, but he still wanted to hang with me and Jill.  Nervous, I made an excuse to blow him off, but after a few drinks, some gushing and Jill’s encouragement, I invited him to meet us at the brewery.  We were wasted, he was tipsy and Jill was giving him the third degree.  He danced with us, bought us beers and drove Jill and her bike home.  I was so impressed and turned on, I had to have him.
Back at his place, I vaguely recalled making out with him on the floors of his garage (?!) and trying to have sex but failing miserably. I woke up never remembering falling asleep.  I was meant to meet some friends for coffee in town but I was still drunk and despite his encouragement I was too terrified to take his standard ute.  On top of it all, there was no way I was leaving this beautiful, naked creature without having some better sex.  I messaged and politely ditched a much too understanding friend and climbed back into his arms.

By early afternoon our conversation had somehow led to me being bound to the headboard by my wrists while he thrusted deeply.  We both had earth shattering orgasms and were enjoying the aftershocks when we heard his name being called from across the house…  His mom… I rushed to dress while he called a greeting to her and hurried to close the bedroom door.  We tried to sneak out the front door but I ended up meeting his mom, after not even a week of knowing him, with her sons fresh load leaking from my vagina.  I could feel how red I was from my orgasm and my growing embarrassment.  We rushed off for a canoe, but because I hadn’t planned to go home with him, I didn’t have a bathing suit or change of clothes.  We canoed to a more private part of the lake then I put on his singlet and waded out into the tea tree infused lakes to rinse my body, while he climbed tall trees.  The awkward nervousness reared its ugly head when he talked about his ex contacting him and chastised me for kissing him too much.
We grabbed a bite and went back to his house where I struggled to make a better second impression.
I felt sufficiently awkward and I’d hinted to Jill that I’d meet her at the beach, but he begged me to stay another night, but I was tired and embarrassed and wanted some space so finally he reluctantly drove me back.

Jill and I downed a bottle of wine on the beach then went to the brewery to watch her new Tinder friend perform with his band.  That night is an entire story of its own but I ended up doing M and dancing with a ton of gorgeous men at the after party.  The guy who was hosting the party was this beautiful Israeli with long chestnut curls.  When we hugged goodbye he whispered, “Come back and see me again,” and it sounded like a threat and a promise and it made me tingle all over.  That night I had an epiphany: I had to stay single this summer.
I was resolved to stick to my decision even though I was dreaming of being in his arms as I was coming down.

The next day, while creeping his Facebook I made a startling discovery: He had TWO KIDS and an EX-WIFE that he NEVER MENTIONED!!! I was mortified and hurt and angry, I wanted to confront him, but Kennedy talked me down and made me realize that it was probably a hard thing to discuss and he was probably worried he’d scare me off.
I wanted to ask him to slow things down, but I didn’t want him to think the two things were connected so I resolved to wait for him to tell me in his own time.

The next night at his house, while fussing around cooking spaghetti bolognese for me, I finally admitted that I liked spending time with but things were moving too quickly and I didn’t want a relationship.
“I don’t want a relationship either, especially not with a backpacker,” he promised. “But would you hook up with other guys?”
I assured him I wasn’t looking to, but if something were to happen I wouldn’t beat myself up over it.
“Just use protection I guess… I probably won’t hook up with anyone else, but if you want to…” he sounded hurt.
But after an incredible night together, he was singing a different tune as he drove and we further discussed it.
“I think I may like this sex-friend thing,” he said, smiling.

Despite my cries of protest, I still spent the entire day with him.
We saw a pod of grey whales, walked Otis on the beach and stopped for snacks.  He begged me to stay another night, but I reiterated my need for space.

Determined to act single, I went out with Jill on Friday night.  That is yet another story in its own, but we got wasted, picked up two guys and after getting kicked out of their hostel, sat on the beach smoking a joint.  We snuck back in and began cuddling with our respective men.  We started fooling around by my spins were so bad, I had to keep stopping.  It was almost as if some higher power was trying to stop me.
In the morning, when I was slightly more sober we tried again.  Despite his large dick, I couldn’t get into it and insisted we give up.  I kept thinking about this awesome guy I already had and when I admitted my guilt to Jill she screamed “OH MY GOD YOU LOVE HIM!” as I rode wobbly away on my bike.

I caught a couple hours of sleep and survived work, but was over the moon when my second cleaning job got cancelled.  I was meant to go to the birthday party of his friend’s girlfriend and even though I was terrified of meeting his friends, I was desperate to see him and thankfully, Jill had agree to join me.
We rolled up with his friend and followed by a few others.  The ‘party’ consisted of a handful of his friends, the girlfriend’s entire extended family (I’m talking little kids and old people who seemed perplexed by our presence.)  It was an intimate, uncomfortable environment and I couldn’t be happier to have outspoken, friendly Jill there, even if she was swearing loudly at kids.
He wandered off and I got stuck talking to some musos.  One of his friend’s girlfriends cornered me to gush about how much they liked me over his ex already and how glad they were to have me in their crew.  I couldn’t help but feel flattered.  The party died down and the old people dissipated and those remaining began getting wild.  We smoked cone after cone and I got on really well with all his friends.  Even though he was loser pissed and useless, forcing me to take charge and set up our tent, I was ecstatic when I finally got to wrap my arms around him in [semi] privacy.
I looked into his eyes and realized my feelings for him were stronger than I cared to admit.
I’ll sensor myself a little here, but we got wild.  This 30 year old, former Christian who had only been with three other women, was turning into a freak before my very eyes and I loved it.
Every position he wanted to try, every thing I suggested, he was in to.  We were so free and open about our desires and past experiences, it was exhilarating.  When I said this to him, he looked at me solemnly and said, “I just want all of you, in every way.”

The next morning, we banged again and joined the others to eat egg and bacon sandwiches and swam in the frigid pool.  We returned to his house and Sunday Fundayed it.  Soon it was only the two of us and he whisked me off to the bedroom to fuck before cooking me butter chicken and then fucking me again.
In the morning, I bemoaned going into work and wished I could spend the whole day naked with him.


Now, I’m here.  So lost, but totally unconcerned with it.  I haven’t brought up the kids and don’t plan to, because honestly, I’m not really ready to have that conversation.  Right now it’s fun and breezy and although we talk like lifelong friends, avoiding such topics makes me feel like they don’t exist or will simply go away.
I fucking like this guy a lot, but there’s no future for us.  I can’t stay and he likely can’t leave.  Besides, he’ll probably end up taking his ex back and leaving me high and dry.  But are those potential issues problems enough to deny myself happiness now?  Is the smart thing to end it now before we both get hurt?  Cause I can’t get sucked into a relationship and I’m just beginning to think I’m too flighty to ever remain tied down, but maybe… just maybe… he’s the exception to the rule.  I don’t know what will happen, I suppose only time will tell, but right now…

He’s the only man who has treated me like gold simply because he thinks I deserve it; or asks me questions about my family; or doesn’t care about my wild past and uncertain future.  He’s the greatest guy I’ve ever dated and I’m not about to throw that away for fear.

0

Emotion Rules Supreme

For a while I felt on top of the world.

I had a decent guy in my bed and a couple more on the side.  I felt like a pimp and the emotion-free sexual deviant I had always strived to be.  Until a few days ago at least…

Cut to my last encounter with Ted.  It was early in the morning and we had just finished having sex.  We lay in bed cuddling and chatting before he had to get up and get ready for work.
Ted turned to me and said, “I had the craziest dream last night…”
“What was it?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“I dreamt that I was having a threesome with you and Kennedy,” he laughed.  “I don’t know, I guess I just always think of the two of you together.”
His comment caught me off guard and made me feel extremely uncomfortable.
He begun getting ready while I stayed in bed.  He came back into the bedroom to give me a kiss and announce he was leaving and that I was welcome to sleep as long as I wanted and let myself out.  I slept a while longer and then headed home to get ready before making the drive to Auckland to show my car to some potential buyers.
Throughout the day, his comment kept coming into my mind, I just couldn’t seem to shake it.
During my drive, I caught up with Kennedy on the phone.  She asked about Ted and I brought up his comment.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she stated, “On that first night he wanted to hook up with us at the same time.”
“WHAT?!” I cried in dismay.
“Yeah… I told you this!!”
“You most certainly did not, or else I would have NEVER slept with him again.”
“I swear I told you… Apparently he told Chad he was going to invite us over to look at the stars and try to fuck us both at the same time.”
I was mortified.  Ted and Kennedy were always on friendly terms before he and I ever got to talking and I always assumed he was interested in her, but I thought maybe that changed when he met me.  When he messaged her that first night and invited the two of us over I thought it was because he was too shy to get a hold of me and invite me over on my own.  Not because he wrongfully assumed he could fuck us both and ended up with me as some sort of consolation prize…
I told myself it didn’t matter and to just let it go, but I couldn’t shake the hurt I felt.  Kennedy is usually the centre of attention when it comes to men: they all love her, they all want her.  She is flirtatious by nature and is instantly interested in most guys she meets.  It doesn’t really bother me because I’m not into said guys, that and I am actually quite confident in my own looks.  Yes Kennedy is hot, but I am too, we are attractive in two completely opposite ways.  That being said, sometimes I can’t help but feel like her short, frumpy sidekick.  On top of all that, my and Kennedy’s lives are already so intertwined: we shared a car, a house, a room, friends, experiences, everything.  Just for once, I wanted to be seen as an individual, at least to the guy I was sleeping with.  The same guy I thought was nice and into me.  Once again I had played the part of naive fool.

Shortly after I arrived in Auckland, I received a message from Chad asking where the fuck I had been hiding.  We talked a little and I asked why he never told me about Ted’s true intentions.  He immediately asked who had told me that and then got to work denying it.  I said it didn’t really matter, that I was just curious and left it at that.

On Thursday I worked an event and my co-worker and I went across the street to the pub for a drink when we’d finished.
From my spot on the deck I spotted Ted walking down the road from his house.  He came over, gave me a hug and then went to join his friends for a game of pool.  I didn’t want to see him and perhaps my feelings were obvious.  When he left, he came over and said goodbye and then messaged me later to apologize for not inviting me over, explaining that he was really tired.
I messaged him back saying it was fine as I was also tired and not into sex at that particular moment.
That was 2 weeks ago and I hadn’t heard a word from him since.  Until this weekend…


I was happily clad in sweats and about to settle in for my nightly Netflix binge when I got a message from Chad, insisting I stop being a wiener and come out with him.  At the same time I got a message from my buddy Kurt, announcing that he was back in town and asking me to come out.  I made the same tired excuses, but in the end I gave in.  I had been hiding under a rock for too long and besides, I knew Kurt wanted to get with me and I was kind of curious myself.

I showed up at the pub and made my way through the thick crowds, clutching my jug of beer awkwardly.  Neither Chad nor Kurt were anywhere to be seen.  But I did see Ted, chatting up a sexy brunette in this distance and doing his best to disregard me.  I saw a couple other friends and sat with them for a while.  Ted whisked his companion off for what I can only assume involved mediocre sex at his nearby abode.  Despite my best efforts, I did notice them leave together, but I wasn’t mad, in fact it all made a lot of sense.  But knowing he was banging someone else did give me that extra incentive for my actions later in the night….
Chad finally showed up and was acting like a wasted idiot and had no idea where Kurt was.  I was nearly done my jug and was contemplating calling it a night and making the long drive home until Kurt finally showed up.  They convinced a few of us to go over to the bar before last call.  I figured since I was out anyway and had a place to crash I may as well make the most of it.  We did a couple shots and then went back to Kurt’s.  We smoked copious amounts of weed and that’s when I started puking.  And puking.  And puking some more.  I eventually managed to drag my wasted ass off the bathroom floor and onto a cot in Kurt’s room where I immediately puked into an awaiting bucket.  He told me that if I felt better I was welcome to join him in his bed.

I woke up in the morning and felt stupid and disappointed.  Rather than chalk the entire experience as a loss, I got up, brushed my teeth, climbed into bed with Kurt and seduced him.  It was exactly what I imagined sex with someone nearly 10 years my junior would be like and I can only pray to God that I did not take his virginity.  I told him what to do and got mine before passing back out.  Everyone was starting to wake up so we went to the bakery for food.  That’s when I got the message from Ted:
“Hey, I’m really sorry last night.  I think I’ve been going a little crazy cause I know I’m leaving soon.”
I was genuinely confused.  Sorry for what?  Fucking someone else?  Ignoring me?  Did we have some sort of fight or interaction that I couldn’t recall?  I asked him why he was apologizing.
“Maybe it’s not a big deal, but I left with someone else last night and I feel like an asshole.”
That’s when the rage hit me.  What the fuck was this idiot hoping to accomplish?  Did he think his apology would keep me fucking him?  Or did he genuinely feel guilty and was trying to clear his conscience?  What did he expect me to say in return?  What a dumb mother fucker!
I thought about my response.  I knew I should probably ignore him completely, or better yet, come up with some breezy response along the lines of ‘Whatevs, I’m fucking other people too.’  But in that moment that’s not how I felt.  I had to say something and make it icy so as to ward off any future attempts to fuck me and what came out was:
“You and I always knew this was just sex.  You’re free to do whatever/whoever you like.  But after 2 weeks of not speaking to me, don’t message me some paltry excuse and apology, it’s not making you look like a nice guy.  And don’t bother responding to this message.  Have a good one.”
Too cold perhaps?  For me it felt just right.  And he got the point.  When I saw him at the pub again later that day, he made no effort to speak to me and he and his friend left shortly after for the bar.

Once again, I let my emotions into what should have been a carefree fling.  Now I’m more desperate than ever to get the fuck out of this town and its people.

Maybe I’ll have better luck next time.  Or maybe I should just give up on the notion of no-strings-attached.  Clearly it’s an unobtainable goal.

1

Figuring it Out

I may have finally figure out this sex with no strings attached thing…

It started about 3 weeks ago… I was at the bar, a few drinks in and talking to a very forward and rather cute American guy named Ted.  We had spent most of the night getting pretty handsy on the dance floor and although we had met and chatted before we had certainly taken that next step to flirting.  I had work in the morning and had stopped drinking so I finally decided to bow out, but I was much intrigued.  Ted is well-traveled, intelligent, sweet and attractive.  On top of all that, he is 8 years my senior so I was counting on him knowing his way around a female body.  He is forward and a little slutty, I am shy and a little slutty, I was about to leave this small town for good so why not have a little fun?
He and Kennedy were on friendly terms and he sent her a text inviting her, myself and our friend Jill (who was in town visiting and is apparently my sex charm) to come by his house and look through his insane telescope.  I was totally keen since I was hoping it would lead to something else and I really wanted to see the rings of Saturn that were promised to me. The stargazing was incredible, but I couldn’t entirely relax.  I didn’t know what to say or how to act, especially with my friends present.  We all decided to sit in the hot tub for a while and pretty soon after, Kennedy and Jill felt too flushed and went back inside the house.  Ted and I sat alone and chitchatted. I looked down at my pruney hands and suggested maybe we get out.  That’s when, out of nowhere, he leaned over and kissed me.  It took me by surprise, but it wasn’t unwelcome.  He was an awesome kisser and we started making out despite the fact we were clearly visible from the house and in plain view of the girls.  Things begun to get intense and I tried to think of what to do next. Should I cut it off to leave with my friends and pick things back up another time? Should I go inside and ask my friends to help wingman me? Luckily, they made the decision for me by clearing their throats rather loudly while coming outside and announcing, “We’re going to go home, call us later if you need a ride!”
I love those girls.
We got back into it and soon enough we were entirely naked.  Terrified of one of his roommates walking outside and disgusted by the potential amount of bacteria present in the jacuzzi, I suggested we move things inside.
Once we had relocated to his bedroom, I busted out my sexiest moves.  He went down on me for ages, but when I tried to go down on him he panicked and abruptly declared, “Let’s slow things down a little.” I guess he had more beers than I realized while waiting for us to show up at his house and was having some, for lack of a better word, trouble. I reassured him that there was no rush whatsoever and insisted he relax.  I went to work putting on a show for him and his liquid courage began to manifest itself because he bent me over and before I knew it we were having sex.
Now I know it’s wrong to have unprotected sex with someone who is more or less a stranger, but it felt so great and I was scared the wind would leave his sail, that I didn’t stop him.
When we were finished he started, “You can sleep over if you want, or I can drive you home.  I do have to be up early.”
I took that as, I want you to leave, but I’m too polite to say, so I took him up on the ride home. I got home and the girls were waiting up for me to ask for all the dirty details.  I told them everything and they both scolded me for being unsafe and playing with fire.  I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

I woke up in the morning to a friend request from Ted.  I felt flattered and couldn’t help but smile.  My grin grew larger when later in the day he sent me a message, “Hey, last night was really fun. :)”
Yes, yes it was…
“I hope this isn’t too forward of me,” he continued, “but are you on birth control?  We kind of broke the no condom rule last night.” My face fell.  This was the reason he was communicating with me?  To ease his own anxiety?  I assured him I was on birth control and lectured him on asking such questions beforehand.  Since I was just as much to blame I reigned in my anger and questioned his sexual past.  He tried to assure me he was healthy and went for regular checkups but I wasn’t entirely convinced. I felt dirty and used, but why?  Ted is a cool guy, but definitely not my type and I didn’t want to have anything more than a physical relationship with him.  Was I so insecure that I needed every guy I fucked to fall head over heals in love with me so that I could have the joy of brushing him off?  Or maybe I was just terrified of being so meaningless and easy to drop?  Either way I was confused.

The next night I joined Jill and Kennedy at the pub for a wine tasting and pizza eating event.  It was great fun and the vino was definitely flowing.  I was already tipsy when Ted showed up with a few others.  Despite my best judgement, he and I begun engaging in sexy banter and before I knew it he had me pushed up against a corner wall with his tongue down my throat. “Let’s get out of here,” we both agreed. We said goodbye to our respective crews and they all snickered knowingly, but neither of us cared.

We chatted back and forth and crossed paths again a couple days later at the bar.  Once again, we spent the night together. A few days passed without us being able to rendezvous and when we finally had an opportunity to meet up, he had come down with a nasty cold.  I waited patiently for 3 days and finally saw him when a few of us went to his house to watch a movie.  He was still feeling a little under the weather but that didn’t stop me from jumping his bones the moment everyone else left. This was a regrettable choice as the next day I immediately came down with the same cold and it lasted for 3 weeks (and counting, the story coming up next!) We hooked up once more while I was sick and then spent the night together before I was meant to leave. It was the best sex we’d had together and we both agreed we should try to meet up over in Aus.

My travel plans went array and I ended back in town knowing he would be back from a work trip in a couple weeks.  I started getting uneasy about potentially seeing him again.  Did he want to see me?  Does he care about me at all?  Am I coming on too strong by messaging him? That’s when I realized: I don’t give a shit! The sex is good, he’s a cool guy, I want to sleep with him again so I’m going to do it.  Who cares what he thinks?  I know he’s not for me, so why all the pressure?  He should count his lucky stars that a beautiful woman like me would even glance in his direction.

I think I finally found the key to meaningless sex.

0

We’ve Come A Long Way

When I first started this blog it was a means to vent about my failed relationship without further annoying my patient friends.
It then allowed me to organize my thoughts and do some soul searching.
Soon after it became a platform to discuss hot sex and cute boys.
The sex dwindled and I started writing a number of hasty, short articles about whatever popped into my mind.
Now?  I don’t know what to write about.  I can’t say what my blog is or where it’s going.  It’s rather representative of my life.  I never know what I want or what path to follow.  Maybe I never will.  But I know I’ve come a long way, even just in the last year.
My mind used to be consumed with thoughts of sex and men and potential boyfriends.
I’m still that crazy ultra-sexual woman, but my thought process has shifted.  I can’t just have sex with someone I feel half-hearted about.
Believe me, I’ve tried.


LipRing was my last and that was once and months ago.  He and I have slept together only a handful of times in the last few months.  After our last encounter, I was determined never to go back.  The sex is subpar and not worth putting up with his weird and rude antics.  There’s very little I like about him and because of this, I barely find him attractive anymore; I’d rather be chaste than have to spend any more time in his company.
Luckily, he also backed off and provided me no opportunities for temptation.

Last weekend our paths inevitably collided.  It was the weekend of Rip Curl Pro and the town was swarming with hot foreign surfers.  I was on antibiotics that would cause me to vomit uncontrollably at even a drop of alcohol so needless to say I was completely sober.  But I still attended the after party, I really wanted to dance and possibly talk to a cute guy.
It was an amazing and fun night.  I love socializing with a clear head and knowing that no one will remember anything I say or do, it’s a powerful feeling.  Naturally, LipRing was one of the first I saw and he was smashed.  He stumbled over and began rustling my hair until I pushed him away and yelled, “SCRAM!”
I did my best to avoid him, but it seemed every time I turned around he was beside me with his tongue down the throat of a gorgeous leggy brunette.
Two days later he started messaging me, whining about how we hadn’t seen each other in so long.
“I saw you on Saturday…” I informed him.  He seemed abashed.

The following weekend we saw each other yet again, only this time my mind was definitely not clear.
He asked me again and again to come home with him and every time I said no.
“I’ll drive you home in the morning!”
“Or you’ll make me walk home again, in the rain…”
“No, I swear I’ll drive you.”
“Even so, it’s not happening.”
Finally he relented and said, “Okay, I guess you have your reasons…”
“I have a lot of reasons,” I slurred, “But none of them matters, what matters is I DON’T WANT TO and so I’m not going to.”
“You’re missing out,” he threatened.
“YOU’RE missing out,” I countered and then did my best to dodge him for the remainder of the night.
When I woke up, I smiled through my hangover.
I was proud of myself for sticking to my guns and going home alone.


The other night, while watching Archer I found myself seriously attracted to Stirling Archer.  Turned on by a drawing of a man, yes it’s gotten that bad.
I considered just finding a decent looking guy, any guy, and seducing him.  After all, there are two Kiwi men who have been pursuing me lately.
One is nearly ten years my junior.  He lives at home, works for his dad and is into extreme sports.  He’s sweet and attractive enough, it could be fun to bed him and show him the time of his life.
The other is a few years older than me and is the definition of an adult.  He lives on his own, is an engineer and a base player.  He’s nice and has a good body.  His hairline is receding, but he’s attractive enough.  He could know his way around a woman’s body and it could be fun.
Enough is the key word.  They’re nice enough, attractive enough, but enough is no longer enough.  I don’t want to settle to appease my sullen vagina.
I want intrigue and passion and excitement.  I want to WANT someone.  I want to be mad with desire for the next man I have sex with.


I was talking to Dillon and as always, our conversation turned to sex.  Dillon admitted he’d been rather slutty lately while I admitted to being slightly prudish.
“It’s not for lack of trying,” I insisted, “I just can’t find anyone who interests me even a little and I can’t be bothered to have meaningless sex with strangers.  What’s happened to me?”
“That’s probably a good thing,” he suggested, “It means you’re growing up.”

Growing up?  I guess it had to happen eventually.


I patiently await the day I meet a person that makes my heart pound and my breath ragged.
Until then, it’s nice to know that I’m happy and content on my own.

My blog may always be a mishmash of thoughts, but at least I’m starting to find my way.

0

Smooches

Kissing – Pecks, open-mouthed, tongue.
Big deal?
Some people see it as a very intimate action.
Yet, in many cultures, kissing on the cheek or mouth is a normalized greeting.
There’s the myth perpetuated by Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts firmly tells Richard Gere, “I don’t kiss on the mouth.”
Or there’s The Inbetweeners 2 when Will’s childhood friend Katie greets everyone with an open mouth kiss.
People can be good kissers, bad kissers, sloppy kissers, hard kissers, soft kissers…

Even Wikipedia offers a long and almost contradictory explanation:

Cultural connotations of kissing vary widely. Depending on the culture and context, a kiss can express sentiments of love, passion, romance, sexual attraction, sexual activity, sexual arousal, affection, respect, greeting, friendship, peace and good luck, among many others. In some situations a kiss is a ritual, formal or symbolic gesture indicating devotion, respect, or sacrament.

What about kissing someone on a first date?  In this Tinder and booze-filled dating world is that even considered taboo anymore?

Last night a few of us were sitting around my house, having a few beers and shooting the shit.  We’d run through our arsenal of drinking games and card games and Kennedy joked that we should play “Spin The Bottle.”
“What are we 12?” our male guests asked in mock horror.  But Kennedy had the hots for one of our guests, I had the hots for another, so we kept jokingly pushing it.  Kennedy spun a plastic bottle and it landed on me, all the boys started heckling us, “What are you girls going to do now?”
So we leaned across the table and kissed each other quickly on the lips.  Then we continued to play.  I kissed both the guy I was pining over and the other one.  I was relatively sober.  I don’t regret it in the slightest.  It was nice, getting to kiss all these people.  In what other context is that ever acceptable?  (Other than, obviously, orgies.)

I kiss people all the time, for a variety of reasons and I enjoy it.  That’s not to say I’m necessarily easy.  If I don’t want to kiss someone, there’s no amount of convincing that will change my mind (I’ve been in such situations before.)
I’ve passionately made out with everyone of my girlfriends.  That’s not to say I do it for attention, since it’s always private and for our own enjoyment.

I just want to be a make out bandit.  Is that so wrong?

0

My Awkward Sexual Life

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?!