We stared, we danced, we made out,he left...

By -
Have you ever met someone who shook your body for just staring at you? Have you ever listened to someone with such eagerness that you couldn't listen to anything else going on around you? Have you ever been so naive to think it could actually last?

Well, if you identified with any of these questions you may know what this is about... or not.

It was late December. A night out with friends having fun and drinks at the usual bar. I was bursting in laughter when I heard a voice behind my back. He was tall. He was blond-ish. He was American. That was it. I just stopped and stared at him with a quirky smile. It would be the beginning of a great adventure...

Everything was perfect. We chatted during the week; we went out to dinner and drinks. However, something was not THAT perfect. Night time. We met at the pub were we first met. We danced 'til early morning and we kissed long and tender. Out of the blue, he suggested THE only thing a guy could suggest at that particular moment: having sex, getting laid, having intercourse or coitus. No matter how you want to read it or picture it, that's what it is...NBD.  

I accepted his offer, he lived nearby. We walked out of the bar - holding hands and giggling - towards his state-of-the-art one-bedroom apartment. [Piece of advice here: when a guy offers a tangerine for you to eat, say YES]  We made out in the kitchen, sitting on his comfy couch, walking to the bedroom and in bed.

Bed. Me. Alone. On my back. He. Opposite. Standing up. Taking my clothes off from shoes to...panties. Yes, panties. Not the blouse. Missionary position... first BIG mistake: no condom. Energy boost going down by the minute. Condom on. Missionary position. Pain. Loads. "Please, stop" - I say. He does so. Round 2. Repeat. Pain. Loads. We end up sleeping. I go back home when the sun begins to rise. 

A week goes by. No messages. No calls. Nothing whatsoever. Friday night. I see him outside the bar chatting to a friend. He introduces his friend to me (NOT the other way around). I go in with my friends. He goes in later. I stare, he stares. We chat. We laugh. We dance. I go to the bar to ask for a drink with some friends. I look back. He's nowhere. I keep on chatting with them. He, then, pops up with not one but TWO girls who he "had met in the previous bar before coming here" Pretty girls, mini skirts, high heels, brunettes. I chat with him, I chat with the girlies. I go back to my friends and when we decide to leave and start going down the steps to the exit door, I see HIM tongue-kissing HER. 

We stared, we danced, we made out... HE LEFT.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Respirá. Ya las tengo.

By -
-Las entradas de cine anticipadas -Las sandalias que combinan perfecto con ese vestido -Las tarjetas de crédito -Las pastillas para el dolor de cabeza -Las servilletas mientras comés una hamburguesa -Las invitaciones para el casamiento -Las palabras justas para ese discurso -Las notas de la canción nueva -Las traducciones de los formularios que no entiendo -Las persianas bajas cuando hay tormenta -Las entradas de blog
Read more

Descártate solito

By -
I get into his house and everything goes as planned. I probably want things to end fast. I want the security of repeated actions, the tricks that always work, the words that turn people on. So, he helps me. He helps me get rid of my clothes and I complete the task without grace. I even order my clothes since I don't like putting them on after picking them from the floor. No. There's no such hunger for lust this time. This is proper and neat sex. Old school. Adopting traditional postures, a must. Afterwards, I reflect on the memories that are puked by my brain. I know it loves ruminating about one-night stands. Funnily enough, my neurons make connections among my way of getting naked and onions and choices we make in life and children and spontaneity. And I know, (oh, God!) I do know that I could play this game endlessly. I could make a trademark of repeated behaviour and laugh with Pavlov about stimuli and responses. But. Craving for more is what pushes me forward and dra...
Read more

Los viejos de 50

By -
Ellos son valientes y les encanta hablar con mujeres de entre 20 y 30. Se defienden en la pista y en muchos casos podés ver la noche en sus caras. Mayoritariamente casados, pero les tiene sin cuidado. Le son fiel a una sola cosa: El chamuyo. Piensan que nos atrae la experiencia, las canas, el poder, el dinero, pero no. No nos atrae. ¿Qué te pasó en la cara? Te pasaste con la cama solar papu. Pero te perdonamos porque te sabés la coreo del meneaito y su complejidad como si fuera el padre nuestro. ¿No pensaste que tenés hijos de nuestra edad? ¿No tenés un hijo de nuestra edad para presentarnos? Sacámelo de encima amiga, que se puso re pesado. Decile algo así se va.
Read more