I think I’ve not so much as woken up with a smile on my face as actually been sleeping with one. I have to remind myself that last night was last night, there it shall remain, and the hard work must begin once more in earnest. The gang has managed to get up and do something productive. As my hangovers are from the seventh circle of hell, I’ve stayed put to plot world domination. At least some kind of female domination. This Fifty Shades of Grey lark is doing wonders for female libido. Time to cash in and buy some props.
Plain sailing it is not, as with another day comes more good looking Australians, and getting a word in edge ways with the two that are tagging along is proving difficult. This situation has always been a tough one for me, as I have literally no idea how to play it. Do I fire straight in, expecting the same reaction? Do I sit back and see if she comes to me? With two new players in town that could prove risky. I have to start all over again, my persistence smashed down like a giant Jenga.
I’ve used the scale of one to ten line much to my dismay and utter disgust. She’s grinning but not giving me an answer. I think I’ve totally messed it up and played my hand too early, especially as one Aussie in particular is doing his damn-dist to rain on my parade. I’ve done the usual maneuver of slipping into the conversation that I was kissing her last night, but he’s not phased. I’m only hoping the shots of Absinthe he’s knocking back take him out of the game.
We’re not getting many moments alone. It’s going to be one of those nights, yet by the time we reach the second bar, many hours later, she whispers “it’s a ten” close to my ear, and then pulls me in. Boom. Take that Australia. One in the eye for cock blockers. She’s also told me that she said to her friends that last night was the best kiss she’d ever had. Now nobody likes a trumpet blower, but:
THAT WAS THE BEST KISS SHE’D EVER HAD.
I’ve booked an extra night. Poland will have to wait.
Get it up you Aussies!
I think I’ve not so much as woken up with a smile on my face as actually been sleeping with one. I have to remind myself that last night was last night, there it shall remain, and the hard work must begin once more in earnest. The gang has managed to get up and do something productive. As my hangovers are from the seventh circle of hell, I’ve stayed put to plot world domination. At least some kind of female domination. This Fifty Shades of Grey lark is doing wonders for female libido. Time to cash in and buy some props.
Plain sailing it is not, as with another day comes more good looking Australians, and getting a word in edge ways with the two that are tagging along is proving difficult. This situation has always been a tough one for me, as I have literally no idea how to play it. Do I fire straight in, expecting the same reaction? Do I sit back and see if she comes to me? With two new players in town that could prove risky. I have to start all over again, my persistence smashed down like a giant Jenga.
I’ve used the scale of one to ten line much to my dismay and utter disgust. She’s grinning but not giving me an answer. I think I’ve totally messed it up and played my hand too early, especially as one Aussie in particular is doing his damn-dist to rain on my parade. I’ve done the usual maneuver of slipping into the conversation that I was kissing her last night, but he’s not phased. I’m only hoping the shots of Absinthe he’s knocking back take him out of the game.
We’re not getting many moments alone. It’s going to be one of those nights, yet by the time we reach the second bar, many hours later, she whispers “it’s a ten” close to my ear, and then pulls me in. Boom. Take that Australia. One in the eye for cock blockers. She’s also told me that she said to her friends that last night was the best kiss she’d ever had. Now nobody likes a trumpet blower, but:
THAT WAS THE BEST KISS SHE’D EVER HAD.
I’ve booked an extra night. Poland will have to wait.