PREVIOUSLY: Part 2
The following weekend we went to a party hosted by the rich guy with the Mercedes. All you can drink for 50,000 pesos. Supposedly all the hottest girls in Medellín were coming and only fat gringos would be the competition. One month in Colombia and still no sex, I was hoping the party might turn things around, but when Karl began hyping it to the moon I knew it was going to be bad. Turns out there were more fat gringos than girls, and only two were cute.
Karl was trashed and mostly incoherent by midnight. I ended up meeting an Australian guy named Dan who was going on six months in Medellín.
“Other gringos keep telling me how friendly the girls are here,” I said, “but I’m not seeing that yet. I’m having some trouble.”
“It’s because the girls here are idiots, “he said. “They don’t work or have education. Talking to them is a nightmare and after six months I can’t even fake a conversation. Here you ask a girl what she’s up to and she just says she’s hanging out at home, or how she went to get her nails done, or how she went to the mall. You won’t have anything in common with them, but since they’re pretty they expect you to buy them dinners and shit. They’re spoiled from all the drug guys they have dated who take them out and pay for everything. When they meet a gringo they expect the same.”
“Have you been to Argentina or Brazil?” I asked.
“Yeah, both. Brazil is the best I think for girls.”
“So why are you here?”
“I’m a teacher here.”
“So your Spanish is fluent?”
“Yeah it’s decent,” he said.
“Is it helping you?”
“Of course but I’m at the point where I’m just tired of the girls. They’re all the same, all boring and fake.”
Could Argentina be better than this? I know the girls there are a lot crazier, but it was easier to talk to them in clubs. They don’t hang in these massive groups of guys.
Another Aussie guy overheard me talking about Brazil. “Brazil is good for sluts?” he asked.
“I mean, better than here. It’s easier to pick up in Brazil.”
“Where do I go in Brazil for sluts then?”
“Do you mean prostitutes?”
“No, just sluts.” He was getting impatient.
“Well I’ve only been to two cities in Brazil, but you can’t go wrong with Rio and points north. If you go south then it gets harder. But Argentina has the hottest girls I think.”
“But are they easier than Brazilian girls?”
“No, definitely not.”
“So for sluts I should go to Brazil?”
“Uh yeah, but Peru is easy too if you’re a gringo.”
“Just tell me where to go for the fucking sluts man, fuck.” He squeezed his lips tightly and leaned his body
closer. For a second I thought he was going to punch me in the face.
I looked at Dan and said, “Your friend is creeping me out.”
“And the funny thing is he teaches English to little kids.”
“What the fuck, I just want sluts. What’s the big deal?”
“Okay then go to Cuzco, Peru. Definitely. You’ll love the girls there—they are surprisingly pretty. Not indigenous-looking at all like in other parts of Peru.” Truth is Cuzco had some of the ugliest girls I’ve ever seen in my life.
After trying our hand on a couple of girls with fake tits, we decided to head to Parque Lleras, the most popular nightlife zone in the city. Dan suggested we all go to Blue, a rock club.
“I hear there are a lot of gringos there,” I said.
“Yeah but there’s a reason for that—the girls there like gringos,” Dan replied.
“It’s the only place where you can pick up a slut in this town,” said the creepy Aussie.
Karl was talking to a part-time gringo prostitute that both Aussie guys had already fucked. Her going rate was 150,000 pesos but supposedly you can bargain her down to 70,000 towards the end of the night. We convinced Karl to meet us at Blue, but in his stupor I had doubts he would make it. It’s a miracle that he’s still alive with the way that he gets shitfaced every single time he goes out.
Blue was a dingy Colombian club with American rock music. The middle of the club was full of tables and there were two dance floors, a large one in the back and a smaller one in front. I saw a Colombian girl sitting at the bar watching her two friends dance. I slowly made my way over, leaned towards her ear a bit and said, “Let me guess… you’re from Colombia.” She laughed and asked me where I was from. She spoke English and even though she wasn’t particularly cute, I decided to stick around because there weren’t many other options. It appeared that every single hostel in Medellín had unloaded their predominately male clientele in the club, and though I didn’t count I’m pretty sure there were more gringos than Colombians.
The Aussie guys were talking to other girls until they disappeared, which was a shame because I wanted to exchange numbers with Dan. Then Karl arrived with his whore, who eased him into a chair at the bar because of the trouble he had standing up. He gave me a slight smile of recognition. I winked back at him.
I knew I was lowering my standards in order to get my Colombian flag. This awareness wasn’t helping my cause so I kept ordering more drinks for myself, until my inner monologue quieted down. I sat on a stool next to the girl and we chatted on and off, in both English and Spanish, until almost an hour in when I asked her to come to the dance floor with me. I wanted to get the kiss out of the way. She shook her head no. Ten minutes later I asked her if she wanted to go right outside to get some fresh air. She shook her head no again. Frustrated, I went outside alone and sat on a stool meant for smokers. I didn’t believe I wasn’t getting anywhere with a girl that I didn’t even like.
A random American gringo sat next to me and I told him the story of the girl. He said, “Well the club is closing in 15 minutes. You might as well just hang in there and see what happens.” He had a good point. I went back inside and when the girl saw me her eyes lit up. She did a 180, grabbing me and bringing me close. I kissed her right then. It’s like she wanted to give me enough love so that I wouldn’t leave her again.
Karl asked me if I had any money. My guess is that he wanted to fuck the prostitute, who was looking pretty decent as the night went on. His decent fashion sense made it seem like he was rather wealthy, but I’d seen him go stretches of three or four days surviving on nothing but his beer tab, a bag of white rice, a cheap package of hot dogs that smelled like cat food, and assorted foodstuffs left over by guys who had checked out, until casino robot monies finally got wired into his account (in the meantime he’d stay home all day and flirt with girls on the internet). Then he’d blow it all on drugs, rum, and women, only to repeat the process a week later. I don’t know if I loved hanging out with Karl because he was an interesting guy or because I wanted to be there at the exact moment his life imploded. He was the type of guy I thought only existed in Hunter S. Thompson novels.
I pretended I didn’t hear him and then he got leaned in closer and asked for money again. I lied to him and said I only had 10,000 pesos for the cab ride home when I actually had close to ten times that. The prostitute left, angry at Karl for wasting her time on a weekend night. I’m sure I did Karl a favor because she would’ve robbed him of his money without putting out. My girl’s friends eventually ditched, leaving her with me and Karl. I looked at her and said, “The roof at our mansion has a great view. Why don’t you come for a little bit and then I’ll take you home afterwards?” She agreed to come back with us.
It was pretty routine after that. I had to act like I was interested in her as a human being when I just wanted to stuff my dick inside her hole. I fucked her two times and then in the morning escorted her to the front of the house after telling her to write down her number on a piece of paper. On the way out she swiped a promotional flyer of the gringo mansion that contained its address and phone number. That worried me terribly so when I went back into the room I grabbed my used condoms from the trash can to make sure my sperm was still inside. Then I flushed them down the toilet so the maid wouldn’t see. She thought I was a nice gringo unlike the other prostitute fuckers and I didn’t want her to know that I was sexually active. I saw her as a motherly figure.
Karl came into my room with his hands on his head, complaining about his hangover. “So how was it?” he asked.
“Have you ever fucked a corpse before?” I said.
“No. Wait. Yeah no.”
“Yeah well I have. It was awful—she didn’t do anything. Just laid there and the only noise she made was grunts of pain, which actually kind of was a turn on, but the mere act of sex hurt her, in every position. It was the worst sex I’ve ever had.”
“Ooph. That sucks. Hey how much money did you spend last night?”
TO BE CONTINUEDTweet Follow @rooshv
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another great story, although kind of sad.
I really wonder where this story is going, we are 60% of the way through and all we have learned is:
1. Karl is a character, but a disaster.
2. Roosh got his Colombian flag with an ugly girl who was a bad lay.
ok real talk… Karl is growing on me… no homo
He’s the kind of guy who every night you know you’re going to have a great story to tell about him.. sort of like me two years ago
Karl is appealing because he just doesn’t give a fuck.
what’s up with the gringo whore? i’ve never heard of such a thing anywhere i’ve travelled. you’d think there’s be more of that; some american girl selling BJs to finance her travelling. in the army you hear about female soldiers making a killing selling their ass during deployments.
my question is, did you feel proud of getting your flag from her? because if it was that bad i don’t think i’d even say she was my first colombian flag lol
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Meh. Karl seems to lead a pretty dull life actually. That’s just my perspective from what Roosh has described so far.
This is good storytelling Roosh.
Funny how little it matters what happens (or doesn’t happen) in a story if it is told well.
The way you write, the story plays out well in the mind of the reader, like he is watching a good movie.
Good writers make it look deceptively easy to know what to put in, and what to leave out — enough detail for clarity & interest, but no excess to dilute the story or drag it out.
A good balance of activity, thoughts, and feelings.
Keep up the good work Roosh.
good point West LA. It isn’t so much what happened but how the story is told.
So far it’s pretty decent.
Not to dick ride but Roosh writes his ass of, what makes him appealing compared to most bloggers is, his life experience and that he doesn’t talk theory all day. Karl sounds like a hot mess, sounds like he never games sober, and is living the fast life.
Roosh on a scale of 1-10 how would you rate the girl? just curious
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Great writing and interesting story so far Roosh. I’m sure I like Karl on paper than I would in real life, he sounds like a sloppy mess.
But yeah, every Aussie guy I’ve run across in traveling has been an arrogant dick. Anybody else noticed this?
great story. your writing’s getting better.
It was a knockout blow – a punch so overwhelming that i didn’t get back on my feet for 13 years.
“Have you ever fucked a corpse before?”
Never trust anyone who actually has to think before answering this.
Karl sounds like he’d be fun to run into in social/party situations about once a week (or less) but a major drag on a day to day basis.
yeha great story telling…i refer this stuff more than your PU material.
I am an Aussie and I agree there are lots of arrogant arseholes. In the last 10 years it has become cool and acceptable almost to be a loud Aussie drunk who thinks the world loves us.
We are getting a bad rep fast…
“I didn’t want her to know that I was sexually active. I saw her as a motherly figure.”
I literally laughed my ass off when I read that statement.
On another note, I hate fucking girls that just lay there like corpses, it’s only happened to me a couple of times, but that is the most annoying shit ever…
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“Have you ever fucked a corpse before?” I said.
“No. Wait. Yeah no.”
i’m liking this story so far. i knew a guy like karl once. he used to call 900 phone sex lines at 3am and rack up huge phone bills. he spent his weekends buried in mounds of coke at house parties of random people he barely knew. he called me once from one of these drug parties to drop off his car keys which he had forgotten and i remember a thick haze of pot smoke as soon as i walked in the door and a bunch of zombies laying all over the couches and floor. i could have looted the entire house without being hassled.
he wound up in prison on tax evasion charges.
@Wolf – Yeah, I’ve lived in Australia for several years and the guy Roosh met is 3/4 of Aussie guys in the bars/clubs – loud, obnoxious, aggressive, looking for a fight. They also have this imaginary rivalry with Americans that only exists on their end, for whatever reason.
The main drawback to this is if you’re not a roid raging, meathead trouble maker with a spray on tan, it’s harder to pull the hotter Aussie chicks because that’s what they go for.
#20 Yeah, I’ve lived in Australia for several years and the guy Roosh met is 3/4 of Aussie guys in the bars/clubs – loud, obnoxious, aggressive, looking for a fight. They also have this imaginary rivalry with Americans that only exists on their end, for whatever reason.
LOL!!!As an Australian who lives in Australia i disagree with your comments. (yes these people do exist here but, also in other countries like US/ENGLAND Etc…)Imaginary rivalry? You must be American to say this? What FUCKING planet are you from? Stay @ home & have a wank if our bars/clubs aren’t your scene. When i’ve travelled to the US, i certainly do NOT & have NOT acted like this!!Nor do i have a problem with Americans, or any nationality regardless of their religion or skin colour!!! Stop stereotyping you halfwit. If you don’t like it here, then do us a favour & “FUCK OFF”
@ Roosh,“Okay then go to Cuzco, Peru. Definitely. You’ll love the girls there—they are surprisingly pretty. Not indigenous-looking at all like in other parts of Peru.” Truth is Cuzco had some of the ugliest girls I’ve ever seen in my life.
Dans mate really must have been a complete FUCKWIT! He got what he deserved!
Interesting story, but quite depressing.
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Fantastic Writing. I am hanging on every word. Bring on Part four…….
@Bob…Point proven. How ironic.
Stop stereotyping you halfwit. If you don’t like it here, then do us a favour & “FUCK OFF”
yeah because you are not being agressive and arrogant here
you have just proved his point
i was in oz a couple of months back. My second trip there after i lived there for one year back in the mid 90s
to say i was disappointed with how backward and agressive the locals have become would be an understatement
its like everyone in bars is hyper pissed off and as is on steroids
And the bouncers. Dont even get me started on them
@24 Has it even occured to you that you might be rubbing the locals up the wrong way, or you’ve chosen to go to the wrong places? Your mistaking my aggressineness, for a proud Australian watching some foreigner “living here” say that – 3/4 of Aussie guys in the bars/clubs – loud, obnoxious, aggressive, looking for a fight. Why wouldn’t i fire up at you?
@25 its like everyone in bars is hyper pissed off and as is on steroids
And the bouncers. Dont even get me started on them
The problem with the bouncers/security industry (lack of government regulation) is they probably are on steriods, and have to deal with idiots that start drinking at 18yo and don’t know when to stop. They get chucked out, get the shits and think they’re Chuck Norris and want to pick a fight. (King Hitting has become a MAJOR problem) Even women are “glassing’ other chicks because they can’t hold their alcohol.
To both of you. Not everyone falls into your 3/4 bracket! If 15 million people did, there would be a civil war!
Aussies are also racist bastards.
They call anyone with olive skin or darker: WOGS.
Why is this, you bastard Aussies?
Please, do tell.
@27 It had something to do with people who migrated from countries like italy,greece etc.. after ww2. Check out an aussie movie “wogboy” might give you an insight!
10: I’d say she was a 6 in favorable lighting.
thanks Bob, you really are proving his point though.
but what is “glassing’ at other chicks? is it breaking glass over their heads? lovely..
[...] “The Medellin Diaries“, “The Medellin Diaries (Part 2 of 5)“, “The Medellin Diaries (Part 3 of 5)“, “The Medellin Diaries (Part 4 of 5)“, “The Medellin Diaries (Part 5 of [...]
I was in a fit of laughter reading about the creepy Aussie who kept asking for “sluts.” Goddamn that was funny.
sloopJohn, I think the stereotype here of Australians is wrong. (and I’m saying this as a Kiwi! lol, so I’m certainly being serious)
Also, glassing means “to glass” a person which basically is just smashing something made out of glass over their head (with the intention for it to smash and break). Anything really, beer bottle, wine bottle, empty beer glass, etc etc…
Haha, when the girl just lies there, they call that Vaca muerta the costenas say proudly that they would never be guilty of such a crime!
Damn Blue used to be the best club, something epic always happened to me there, like the time the hot half owner of a pr firm took me home to her mansion to fuck (she insisted on keeping on her thigh high hooker heels). But they stuck all of those tables in the middle of the dance floor and moved the bar..and now way too many gringos. But anyways there are much better places in colombia to pickup quality girls who will squeeze out every ounce of “lechita”.
Well, since I’m Swiss, I’m quite neutral about the Aussies being obnoxious, loud, aggressive etc…seems to me the Americans can pretty much be exactly that.
Fact is I met an Aussie un Moalboal (Philippines), we got drunk together (nothing else to do unless you want to play pool with the local boys), and I told him at some point that he had a nice hat (he did). Believe it or not, he got real angry with me and I left before we got into a fight: that’s the trouble with Aussies: when they lack words (which is often), they pick a fight.
“One month in Colombia and still no sex” <– hahah coz you're a pathetic, fat ugly fuck, that's why.
Ooph. That sucks. Hey how much money did you spend last night?
still no answer lol
What a journey it was reading this story. Could have got the point much quicker without the superfluous prose.