Oh Is That How It Happened?

The last place I want a cute Irish girl into me is in a club in Argentina. It was a weekend night and we were the only two from our hostel that went out. Since she was a drinker, hooking up would be as certain as a Chilean from Santiago eating a hot dog piled disgustingly high with mayonnaise and a mix of other condiments that even an American wouldn’t touch.

I didn’t want to pull the trigger too soon because the girls in the club were nicer. Do you go for the sure thing or roll the dice and risk a silent jerk in the bottom bunk underneath some guy from New Zealand? I couldn’t decide so I did the lean against the wall thing where she danced in front of me. I don’t know if you have seen an Irish girl dance to house or reggaeton, but it was quite embarrassing—for me! I kept my options open.

About one hour in, she asked if I could hold her coat while she goes on the main dance floor. I said no and placed it on the floor. She said, “If you want to find me, you’ll find me,” and did a little head flick and off she went. I laughed at this attempt at game and started talking to the three Argentine girls next to me. They were extremely nice since they saw me with the Irish girl, who came back in four minutes, maybe three. She made it seem like she’d be gone for such a long time that reuniting with her would be on par with winning a rigged carnival game.

It’s around now she makes a very strong effort on this here, but I wasn’t surprised because she earlier admitted she likes “Persian guys.” I find it amusing how there’s a significant number of white girls with no body hair or pigment who have a type that can be best described as “hairy beast.” Something about diversifying the gene pool I guess.

This isn’t about what happened that night, but what happened a day later. The Irish girl makes friends with a Scottish bird and they tried to get me to come out. I declined because I was leaving the next morning. The Irish girl said, “Oh come on it’ll be fun.” She looked at the Scottish girl and continued, “We went out to this club last night and I gave him my coat and got lost and danced all night long.” That would be like me saying, “I fucked two supermodels in the bathroom and it was grand. They didn’t want me to use a condom so I didn’t and I don’t regret it one bit.”

She wasn’t lying, just viewing the night through the mess of her female brain. If a girl is not being chased or in control, minor alternations to reality will be made to make it so.


I jerked off. It’s a long story.

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