After being hounded by tourism throughout Prague I’ve made the decision that I’ve done it, seen it and I can spend the weekend on the party circuit. Consequently I don’t get out of bed all day, until five slices of pizza and a beer sort me out. Joining a friend I made last night, I’ve even managed to persuade a group of girls and a spaced out American dude that I know what I’m doing. Designated bar crawl guide. It’s not a mantle that sits well. I don’t like to be responsible for people having a good night. This time I get lucky. She’s English, blond, smoking hot and training to be a doctor.
Now it has been said that I have pretty decent ‘game’. This is a relatively new term for me as I wasn’t aware I was playing anything. Still I take it as a compliment, especially when I’m informed that it’s the best she’s ever seen it played. Not bad. Go team GB.
She’s totally out of my league and not the kind of girl that would go for me. By rights she should be more interested in those tall Aussies I keep complaining about. Yet tonight I’m going all out, guns blazing. She’s convinced it’s not going to happen, that I’m to be left out in the cold once again, thwarted by an Adonis. I’m not having any of it, but my futile attempts are met with a swift rebuttal at every turn. Hours of effort, painstakingly pretending to not be interested, perfectly measured comments, witticisms and observations. Not too much, a little sprinkle here and there. Preheating the oven to stick in the sausage casserole. I apologise if you were eating.
She’s wandered off onto the dance floor and I’m exasperated. Any second now Mr Universe will appear on her arm. I sigh, finish my beer and decide to trot off for a little dance myself. Maybe my robot might win her over. As I approach, she’s returning, walking right at me, and without missing a beat, she’s pressed her lips to mine.
Now I’ve nearly had a cow. Totally out of nowhere. It’s as if she’s disappeared into a phone booth and emerged her alter ego. Far be it for me to complain though. We continue in this vein for the remainder of the night, and I top it off with fetching her a new Strawberry for her cocktail when she’s dropped the other one on the floor. You can’t buy game this good. Who the hell am I? Where is the clumsily inept Stuart I know so well? Where’s my gold medal?
Back at the hostel she’s pulled me downstairs, out of the gaze of prying backpackers. This might be the moment to lead her to bed, but dorm room sex isn’t the classiest thing, and she deserves better. Plus I wouldn’t want to spoil a wonder night with a hideously pissed up display in the sack. She’s staying till Tuesday. Good things come to those who wait
.
Golden game
After being hounded by tourism throughout Prague I’ve made the decision that I’ve done it, seen it and I can spend the weekend on the party circuit. Consequently I don’t get out of bed all day, until five slices of pizza and a beer sort me out. Joining a friend I made last night, I’ve even managed to persuade a group of girls and a spaced out American dude that I know what I’m doing. Designated bar crawl guide. It’s not a mantle that sits well. I don’t like to be responsible for people having a good night. This time I get lucky. She’s English, blond, smoking hot and training to be a doctor.
Now it has been said that I have pretty decent ‘game’. This is a relatively new term for me as I wasn’t aware I was playing anything. Still I take it as a compliment, especially when I’m informed that it’s the best she’s ever seen it played. Not bad. Go team GB.
She’s totally out of my league and not the kind of girl that would go for me. By rights she should be more interested in those tall Aussies I keep complaining about. Yet tonight I’m going all out, guns blazing. She’s convinced it’s not going to happen, that I’m to be left out in the cold once again, thwarted by an Adonis. I’m not having any of it, but my futile attempts are met with a swift rebuttal at every turn. Hours of effort, painstakingly pretending to not be interested, perfectly measured comments, witticisms and observations. Not too much, a little sprinkle here and there. Preheating the oven to stick in the sausage casserole. I apologise if you were eating.
She’s wandered off onto the dance floor and I’m exasperated. Any second now Mr Universe will appear on her arm. I sigh, finish my beer and decide to trot off for a little dance myself. Maybe my robot might win her over. As I approach, she’s returning, walking right at me, and without missing a beat, she’s pressed her lips to mine.
Now I’ve nearly had a cow. Totally out of nowhere. It’s as if she’s disappeared into a phone booth and emerged her alter ego. Far be it for me to complain though. We continue in this vein for the remainder of the night, and I top it off with fetching her a new Strawberry for her cocktail when she’s dropped the other one on the floor. You can’t buy game this good. Who the hell am I? Where is the clumsily inept Stuart I know so well? Where’s my gold medal?
Back at the hostel she’s pulled me downstairs, out of the gaze of prying backpackers. This might be the moment to lead her to bed, but dorm room sex isn’t the classiest thing, and she deserves better. Plus I wouldn’t want to spoil a wonder night with a hideously pissed up display in the sack. She’s staying till Tuesday. Good things come to those who wait
.