Ok so here we go with backdating stuff that’s happened in the past month, this entry taking place on the 8th of March.
I’ve been having a jolly old time in Sofia as per norm, rattling around on the bar crawl, sleeping until four, and generally making a nuisance of myself. A small hostel family had grown – the first of the season – and time was passed pleasantly by all supping the delights of vodka, playing kings cup drinking games, and trying to shag anything that moved.
So the story goes I was attempting to be Mr Charm, while several other male guests were going rouge. Lone wolf. Relentless in their pursuit of the vagina. Flitting from one knock back to the next until their appetites are satisfied. Then dragging women back to their caves by the hair.
So in keeping with the mantra of Looking for Stu’s brutal honesty; of course I’m playing the game, I’m just doing it with a little more subtlety. I hesitate to divulge my M.O, but after a night of clandestine field-play, I was left empty-handed. I made a move for a particular girl and I’ve got fresh air. Hey-ho, thems the breaks, shit happens.
Coming to, bleary-eyed and still somewhat significantly concupiscent the following morning doesn’t do a guy any favours. He can go rabid. DEFCON 5. Casanova on speed. A black-belt Lothario. And the devil does indeed make work for idle thumbs, so naturally I fired off a couple of texts to two girls containing something about the delightfully irresistible offer of a spoon. Not the cutlery kind. But alas, fortune took a turn for the worse, as these two girls happened to be sitting next to each other at the time.
“Oh! I’ve got a text from Stuart!” Said one.
“You’ve got one? So have I…” Replied the other.
I could possibly imagine the conversation beginning, shortly followed by a brutal lambasting of the actions of myself and all mankind. One young lady in particular took it upon herself to confront my atrocious, outlandish behavior, and excoriated me in my bed. Unfortunately this was about as far from sexual as Howard the Duck was a good film.
Now don’t get me wrong dear readers; I’m no angel. I’m a 35 year old, single guy, traveling the world. I don’t really want a relationship right now, and I certainly never want to get married. But I copped an earful for being so duplicitous about it.
“At least we know all the other guys are openly sleazy bastards, you’re just really sneaky about it.”
It could have been worse. She admitted to considering having the two of them turn up at my room at the same time. How I would have got out of that one I don’t know.
I’d been found out. Caught. Reprehensible. It’s a fair cop guv, and you’ve got to hold your hands up. But was it really that bad? We’re all at it! I’m no different to most guys (even though a tactic is I claim to be), it’s just we all go about the chase in our different ways. Am I in the wrong? It’s a serious question. Most women would be appalled at the language and filth that pours freely from the mouths of men when the fairer sex isn’t around. This I actually detest, considering it extremely low-brow, cringing at such talk that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And yet it was me who took the full force of retribution, all for hedging my bets! For having eggs in other baskets! How many guys are you all speaking to at once ladies?! I’d be very naive to think it was just one! I happened to be on a date a short time ago with the closest thing to Aphrodite I’d seen in many a moon, and she spent a large portion of the evening tapping away on her fucking iphone. Talking to her dad was she?!
Ahem. Apologies. I got carried away. Where was I? Ahhh yes, the eternal battle of the sexes. The fact that this little episode coincided with International Women’s Day and the irony wasn’t lost on me. I was dealt some swift, merciless justice.
Incidentally why we need a specific day for women is beyond me. Every day should be women’s day. Maybe that’s just me trying to score some brownie points in the wake of my spectacular failure in invoking Don Juan. Oh well. Tonight; we go again.
Women eh? Rolls eyes*
Ok so here we go with backdating stuff that’s happened in the past month, this entry taking place on the 8th of March.
I’ve been having a jolly old time in Sofia as per norm, rattling around on the bar crawl, sleeping until four, and generally making a nuisance of myself. A small hostel family had grown – the first of the season – and time was passed pleasantly by all supping the delights of vodka, playing kings cup drinking games, and trying to shag anything that moved.
So the story goes I was attempting to be Mr Charm, while several other male guests were going rouge. Lone wolf. Relentless in their pursuit of the vagina. Flitting from one knock back to the next until their appetites are satisfied. Then dragging women back to their caves by the hair.
So in keeping with the mantra of Looking for Stu’s brutal honesty; of course I’m playing the game, I’m just doing it with a little more subtlety. I hesitate to divulge my M.O, but after a night of clandestine field-play, I was left empty-handed. I made a move for a particular girl and I’ve got fresh air. Hey-ho, thems the breaks, shit happens.
Coming to, bleary-eyed and still somewhat significantly concupiscent the following morning doesn’t do a guy any favours. He can go rabid. DEFCON 5. Casanova on speed. A black-belt Lothario. And the devil does indeed make work for idle thumbs, so naturally I fired off a couple of texts to two girls containing something about the delightfully irresistible offer of a spoon. Not the cutlery kind. But alas, fortune took a turn for the worse, as these two girls happened to be sitting next to each other at the time.
“Oh! I’ve got a text from Stuart!” Said one.
“You’ve got one? So have I…” Replied the other.
I could possibly imagine the conversation beginning, shortly followed by a brutal lambasting of the actions of myself and all mankind. One young lady in particular took it upon herself to confront my atrocious, outlandish behavior, and excoriated me in my bed. Unfortunately this was about as far from sexual as Howard the Duck was a good film.
Now don’t get me wrong dear readers; I’m no angel. I’m a 35 year old, single guy, traveling the world. I don’t really want a relationship right now, and I certainly never want to get married. But I copped an earful for being so duplicitous about it.
“At least we know all the other guys are openly sleazy bastards, you’re just really sneaky about it.”
It could have been worse. She admitted to considering having the two of them turn up at my room at the same time. How I would have got out of that one I don’t know.
I’d been found out. Caught. Reprehensible. It’s a fair cop guv, and you’ve got to hold your hands up. But was it really that bad? We’re all at it! I’m no different to most guys (even though a tactic is I claim to be), it’s just we all go about the chase in our different ways. Am I in the wrong? It’s a serious question. Most women would be appalled at the language and filth that pours freely from the mouths of men when the fairer sex isn’t around. This I actually detest, considering it extremely low-brow, cringing at such talk that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And yet it was me who took the full force of retribution, all for hedging my bets! For having eggs in other baskets! How many guys are you all speaking to at once ladies?! I’d be very naive to think it was just one! I happened to be on a date a short time ago with the closest thing to Aphrodite I’d seen in many a moon, and she spent a large portion of the evening tapping away on her fucking iphone. Talking to her dad was she?!
Ahem. Apologies. I got carried away. Where was I? Ahhh yes, the eternal battle of the sexes. The fact that this little episode coincided with International Women’s Day and the irony wasn’t lost on me. I was dealt some swift, merciless justice.
Incidentally why we need a specific day for women is beyond me. Every day should be women’s day. Maybe that’s just me trying to score some brownie points in the wake of my spectacular failure in invoking Don Juan. Oh well. Tonight; we go again.