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.


Sex Interviews

My friend Andi was griping to us girls.  After a six month draught, she finally slept with a guy she went to high school with.  She was horrified by his weird sex noises and her lack of an orgasm, but how could she have known it’d be so disappointing?
That’s when I came up with the brilliant idea of sex interviews.  Think about it… You wouldn’t hire someone without first interviewing them and comparing them to other contenders.  You wouldn’t entrust your children to someone you just met.  So why your orgasms?  Some might argue that the first roll in the hay is like a trial, but I say there should be a less violating and more practical way to find out if a man is good at sex. This is my brilliant plan for recruiting my next sex buddy, tell me what you think guys.

The Interview Process:

  • All applicants must arrive with a CV.  This will consist of a “Head Shot” (hehe) of their erect penis.  Resume should include but not be limited to: special skills, sexual likes and dislikes and any known fetishes.
  • All candidates must provide references for the last three women they were intimate with.
  • The interview process will last 20 minutes and will contain questions such as:
    “What is your stance on cuddling?” and
    “How many times can you go in one night?”
  • Following the interview there will be a one minute trial make out session.  This will be followed with a sex preview in which the candidate will demonstrate their best moves on a mannequin.
  • The process will conclude with an STD test.

What will the winning contender get out of this?  Why, the pleasure of sex with me of course.  Whenever, wherever.



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?


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?!