My housemate Aces turned 25 on March 24th. He celebrated his birthday last weekend. Aces is a very popular guy and he is diligent at keeping in touch with all of his old friends from University. This is something which I must concede I often let slip in the hustle and bustle of life. As a result of this there is no one like Aces who can draw a good crowd for a birthday party. On Friday, it was a lads only night out. The crew consisted of all of our close friends from University: Tig, Bee, Casanova, Canadian Steak and B Hop. B Hop lived with Steak at Sheffield University and studied Law with me. He has also been a practitioner of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and fan of Mixed Martial Arts for longer than me. In fact, the first time that I met him was at my second ever Brazilian Jiu Jitsu lesson in Sheffield and B Hop made me tap from a rear naked choke during our spar.
Everyone had turned up to our house by 9.30pm and after some drinks and banter we made our way in taxis to The Fez Club in Putney. For the night out I wore a dark blue slim fitted shirt (Zara), diagonal striped blue and burgundy tie (Zara), dark fitted jeans (Diesel), slim white belt (Asos), pointy white shoes (Zara) and a dogtooth Blazer (Adam Lippes for Mango). I had been drinking whisky since seven 'o' clock, polishing off my bottle of Famous Grouse and making decent inroads into a new bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label. This fact, combined with the feeling of hysteria experienced from seeing old friends, resulted in me being pretty rocked by the time I walked through the doors of The Fez Club.
We ran into trouble almost immediately as some huge drunk black guy approached the group for hugs. When he was turned down, he started to get aggressive, at one point putting Bee in a headlock. Steak called the bouncers who reluctantly evicted the guy from the premises. They had initially been reluctant to do so because they claimed that he was a regular who spent a lot of money. However, through Steak's persistence they eventually relented. Unfortunately, Steak (which he does have a tendency to do) continued to hound the security about this issue throughout the night which inevitably led to them becoming incredibly pissed off with him.
I bought rounds of drinks with Tig: double Jack Daniels and coke was the tipple of choice. Aces bought a round of Tequilas/Sambucas (I always go for the former) for the group as well and within the hour I was thoroughly pissed. Fez was unusually quiet for a Friday night and a scan of the room revealed that there were very few hot women. To get warmed up I started dancing with a short, slightly plump blond. She seemed to be attracted to me, although the feeling was by no means mutual. When I returned to my group I was instructed by Aces to try and get off with her as my birthday present to him.
Normally I would go into much more detail about a night out. However, dancing with this girl was my last memory of the night. The only thing that I can remember after that was telling the taxi to stop on the way back to my flat and jumping out to vomit on the side of the road. I was told that shortly after 1am I fell asleep on the sofas near the bar. I was informed the next morning that I ended up getting off with the target set for me by Aces. It is very rare for me not to remember pulling a girl but I was absolutely hammered. Steak and B Hop were wing-manning me by chatting to the rest of this woman's group. It turns out that the woman I pulled was a thirty-seven year old mother of three, which officially makes her the oldest woman that I have ever kissed. Coincidentally she also ended up getting off with Steak.
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Leg Kicks
I hate getting kicked in the leg. I think that I would prefer to get punched in the face. Tonight I went to my first Muay Thai lesson in Farnborough. The warm up was brutal, although I do tend to enjoy raising my heart rate in this manner. There was thirty minutes of running, star jumps, burpees, shadow boxing, squat thrusts, push ups, squats and crunches. By the end of the warm up I was drenched in sweat and ready to start pad work.
I have trained in some striking in the past. I did karate for seven years (obtaining a brown belt before giving up at the age of thirteen), boxed in an unlicensed gym for six months and have attended quite a few Muay Thai lessons over the last few years. When asked after the warm up if I had done any striking before I said that I was a beginner. There was one other student, who was recently promoted to blue belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, who was a beginner and we got paired up and taught the basic footwork and how to throw jabs and crosses. I did not mind doing this but as soon as I saw some of the other students throwing punches and kicks I realised that with my prior martial arts experience I could have easily joined in the class.
The worst part of being partnered with this guy for pad work was his lack of accuracy. He was a large, strong guy with thick legs and an enormous paunch. I have found him very awkward to grapple due to his dimensions and weight. Whilst his strikes lacked technique the weight that he put behind them translated into decent power. When practising leg kicks I was given a thin pad to protect my leg, normally used for punching. Admittedly the target was small, although somehow he managed to miss it with the first kick he threw and catch me round the back of my left leg with full force. I felt a shooting pain straight away and must have winced because he asked if I was OK. I said that I was fine and he continued to kick away at the pad. He did not miss again, although the first strike did all of the damage. I now have a painful, dead left leg. I hope that it does not affect my dance moves for Aces birthday weekend.
I have trained in some striking in the past. I did karate for seven years (obtaining a brown belt before giving up at the age of thirteen), boxed in an unlicensed gym for six months and have attended quite a few Muay Thai lessons over the last few years. When asked after the warm up if I had done any striking before I said that I was a beginner. There was one other student, who was recently promoted to blue belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, who was a beginner and we got paired up and taught the basic footwork and how to throw jabs and crosses. I did not mind doing this but as soon as I saw some of the other students throwing punches and kicks I realised that with my prior martial arts experience I could have easily joined in the class.
The worst part of being partnered with this guy for pad work was his lack of accuracy. He was a large, strong guy with thick legs and an enormous paunch. I have found him very awkward to grapple due to his dimensions and weight. Whilst his strikes lacked technique the weight that he put behind them translated into decent power. When practising leg kicks I was given a thin pad to protect my leg, normally used for punching. Admittedly the target was small, although somehow he managed to miss it with the first kick he threw and catch me round the back of my left leg with full force. I felt a shooting pain straight away and must have winced because he asked if I was OK. I said that I was fine and he continued to kick away at the pad. He did not miss again, although the first strike did all of the damage. I now have a painful, dead left leg. I hope that it does not affect my dance moves for Aces birthday weekend.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Text Rules
On Friday night Tucky pulled a thirty-two year old guy (nine years her senior) on a night out in Maidstone, Kent. Tucky has a tendency to get horny when drunk and this can turn her into something of a man-eater with one goal in mind: to snog any male in the vicinity. Being a hot looking girl, she never has a problem finding a willing recipient. The guy Tucky pulled was just another one in a line of unsuspecting victims and she did not even remember his name. She ended up giving him her number and leaving the club with the girls she went out with. When she woke up in the morning she discovered that she had four text messages from him. Throughout the day on Saturday, I received updates from Tucky about the texts that the guy continued to send in spite of no reply from her. The text below is the first that Tucky sent to me:
"Hiya, hows ur day bin? ive just finished 4 the day, wot a long one!! well not sure where u gone, but had an idea if ur up 4 it wud u like 2 go 2 the ice bar in mayfair, london on fri nite? just me and u? offers their anyay xx hope ur ok? x"
Apart from the spelling and grammar mistakes (particularly spelling "there" as "their") this would seem like a pleasant enough first text to send to a girl. I am a big fan of The Absolut Ice Bar in Heddon Street and I believe that this is a good place to take a girl. In fact I had wanted to go there for drinks with Tucky at the end of February but I could not book a suitable time. However, one has to bear in mind that this was text number eight. Fuck knows what the previous texts said. Despite Tucky's silence, Trevor powered on. His final text (number eleven) on Sunday reeked of desperation:
"Not sure wot i did so wrong 2 b ignored? i thought u mite have liked me? well sorry u feel u have 2 ignore me. trevor x"
This was the first text in which he revealed his name. The name, Trevor, says everything about a man in my opinion. It is a name which is associated with argyle tank tops, green blazers with leather patches on the elbows, thick rimmed glasses with lenses like jam jars and trainspotting. Tucky swears that he was nothing like this. However, the ensuing hilarity proved one thing: that he is a fucking loser of the highest order. I have images of him sitting with his friends saying "She still hasn't replied lads but if she hasn't got back to me by the eleventh text then I should probably give up." I remember one of my ex-housemates from university, Linki, who had a three text rule, i.e. you can text a girl up to three times without response before giving up. I personally think that this is the ethos of a desperate fucking loser. I can sympathise with Trevor because I know that I used to be that guy. The tinge of sympathy I feel towards him though is miniscule, considering that I have learned from my past mistakes and at the age of thirty-two he should really know better.
As far as I am concerned there is a one text rule. If a girl has not responded to me after the first text then I will sack her off. An additional rule is that I will not text the girl straight away. I prefer to leave it for at least a day, preferably two, before initiating contact. Speaking to my good friend Abs about this on the phone last night, I would concede that it is OK to text a chick on the same night just to check that she got home safely. The girl I pulled recently at The Fez Club at Casanova's birthday did not respond to my text so I fucked it off. One needs to have some self respect: she probably did not remember getting off with me and even if she did she either a) felt that she made a mistake or b) has a boyfriend that she cheated on. Either way I am not going to waste my time or compromise my dignity by chasing after her.
It got me thinking though, that texting might not be the way forward. It is easy enough for a girl to ignore text. A phone call, on the other hand, from a private number would be too intriguing to neglect. In November I went out with work colleagues to Vodka Revolution in Reading town centre. It was a Monday night so I was not expecting a good night out, although to my surprise the venue was buzzing because it was a student night. I was on top of my game that night (I had just the right amount of alcohol in my system to ooze self-confidence without coming across as arrogant) and I interacted with a number of girls. I talked to one really hot girl Hispanic girl, called Monica, at the bar whilst I was queueing to buy a round of drinks and ended up getting her phone number. A couple of days later I decided to contact her. I had only chatted to her for about three minutes before I obtained her number so we did not make a particularly meaningful connection. Given this fact I called her instead of texting her. She picked up the phone and whilst she did not remember me at first (she was also very drunk that night) she slowly started piecing the night together. The conversation went well and we even talked about potentially meeting each other on a night out in Reading until I found out that she was eighteen years old. This is slightly too young for me, although her reaction to finding out that I was twenty-five put an end to the possibility of an advancement in proceedings.
Before getting with his current girlfriend, my housemate Aces used to give his number to girls and tell them to call him. I highly rate this approach. If the girl does call or text then she is clearly interested and if she does not, then she is not, pure and simple. The one caveat to this approach is that I would not do it with a girl who I thought was really fit (i.e. a seven and a half out of ten or above) since I would rather have her number than not. For slightly above average girls I will probably start using this ploy, since it is not as if I would give a fuck if they made contact.
"Hiya, hows ur day bin? ive just finished 4 the day, wot a long one!! well not sure where u gone, but had an idea if ur up 4 it wud u like 2 go 2 the ice bar in mayfair, london on fri nite? just me and u? offers their anyay xx hope ur ok? x"
Apart from the spelling and grammar mistakes (particularly spelling "there" as "their") this would seem like a pleasant enough first text to send to a girl. I am a big fan of The Absolut Ice Bar in Heddon Street and I believe that this is a good place to take a girl. In fact I had wanted to go there for drinks with Tucky at the end of February but I could not book a suitable time. However, one has to bear in mind that this was text number eight. Fuck knows what the previous texts said. Despite Tucky's silence, Trevor powered on. His final text (number eleven) on Sunday reeked of desperation:
"Not sure wot i did so wrong 2 b ignored? i thought u mite have liked me? well sorry u feel u have 2 ignore me. trevor x"
This was the first text in which he revealed his name. The name, Trevor, says everything about a man in my opinion. It is a name which is associated with argyle tank tops, green blazers with leather patches on the elbows, thick rimmed glasses with lenses like jam jars and trainspotting. Tucky swears that he was nothing like this. However, the ensuing hilarity proved one thing: that he is a fucking loser of the highest order. I have images of him sitting with his friends saying "She still hasn't replied lads but if she hasn't got back to me by the eleventh text then I should probably give up." I remember one of my ex-housemates from university, Linki, who had a three text rule, i.e. you can text a girl up to three times without response before giving up. I personally think that this is the ethos of a desperate fucking loser. I can sympathise with Trevor because I know that I used to be that guy. The tinge of sympathy I feel towards him though is miniscule, considering that I have learned from my past mistakes and at the age of thirty-two he should really know better.
As far as I am concerned there is a one text rule. If a girl has not responded to me after the first text then I will sack her off. An additional rule is that I will not text the girl straight away. I prefer to leave it for at least a day, preferably two, before initiating contact. Speaking to my good friend Abs about this on the phone last night, I would concede that it is OK to text a chick on the same night just to check that she got home safely. The girl I pulled recently at The Fez Club at Casanova's birthday did not respond to my text so I fucked it off. One needs to have some self respect: she probably did not remember getting off with me and even if she did she either a) felt that she made a mistake or b) has a boyfriend that she cheated on. Either way I am not going to waste my time or compromise my dignity by chasing after her.
It got me thinking though, that texting might not be the way forward. It is easy enough for a girl to ignore text. A phone call, on the other hand, from a private number would be too intriguing to neglect. In November I went out with work colleagues to Vodka Revolution in Reading town centre. It was a Monday night so I was not expecting a good night out, although to my surprise the venue was buzzing because it was a student night. I was on top of my game that night (I had just the right amount of alcohol in my system to ooze self-confidence without coming across as arrogant) and I interacted with a number of girls. I talked to one really hot girl Hispanic girl, called Monica, at the bar whilst I was queueing to buy a round of drinks and ended up getting her phone number. A couple of days later I decided to contact her. I had only chatted to her for about three minutes before I obtained her number so we did not make a particularly meaningful connection. Given this fact I called her instead of texting her. She picked up the phone and whilst she did not remember me at first (she was also very drunk that night) she slowly started piecing the night together. The conversation went well and we even talked about potentially meeting each other on a night out in Reading until I found out that she was eighteen years old. This is slightly too young for me, although her reaction to finding out that I was twenty-five put an end to the possibility of an advancement in proceedings.
Before getting with his current girlfriend, my housemate Aces used to give his number to girls and tell them to call him. I highly rate this approach. If the girl does call or text then she is clearly interested and if she does not, then she is not, pure and simple. The one caveat to this approach is that I would not do it with a girl who I thought was really fit (i.e. a seven and a half out of ten or above) since I would rather have her number than not. For slightly above average girls I will probably start using this ploy, since it is not as if I would give a fuck if they made contact.
Monday, 22 March 2010
Aches and pains
On Saturday I trained BJJ for two and half hours. As a result I have various aches. My right shoulder is sore as are both of my knees, although neither is unbearably uncomfortable. There is a tightness in my right hip from getting trapped in an awkward position whilst grappling an opponent. The effect of an accidental slam, which did not wind or hurt me at the time, has culminated now in a dull pain in my upper ribs on the left hand side of my body.
Saturday, 20 March 2010
Mouse
I have noticed recently from my Facebook News Feed that Mouse has moved into a new flat with her boyfriend. I met Mouse on my holiday in Tenerife in October 2009. It was one of the funniest holidays I have ever been on and getting to fuck Mouse on the final night capped it off perfectly.
I went to Tenerife with my current housemate and best friend Aces, as well as Casanova and Bea (both ex-housemates from the University of Sheffield). We stayed at a hotel called the Compostella Golf and Beach resort. We had booked an apartment for four people but found that there was one fold out bed in the lounge and two twin beds in another room. There was no air conditioning or ceiling fan in the room which turned out to be a blessing since we all took it in turns to sleep out on the balcony throughout the week.
We had spent extra money to receive the benefits of an all inclusive holiday. This entitled us to free food and "local booze" throughout the week. However, to say that the food and booze was laughable would be a generous sentiment. I am the first person to admit that I know nothing about good food, preferring to eat for nutrition rather than taste. Nevertheless even I could tell that the food at the Compostella was awful: grade Z cuts of meat, lasagne without the beef, bland salad, stale bread, etc. When the buffet cart was wheeled away at the end of lunch and dinner, guests were left free to make their own cheese and ham toasties. The local alcohol was even worse. It came in cardboard cups and if you left the vodka sitting in it for more than thirty minutes it started to burn through. I never get hangovers, although after the first night drinking that alcohol I struggled to move the following day until the early afternoon. Whilst the rest of the crew continued to consume the free alcohol, I spent extra money to buy branded alcohol at the hotel: a strategy for which I was rightfully goaded for the duration of the holiday.
We had expected the clubs in Playa de las Americas to be packed with young, good-looking English girls who would be up for sexual encounters. However, we should have known that turning up in the middle of October, out of the holiday season, would equate to deserted bars and clubs. We were told that the two days for new transfers was Tuesdays and Saturdays. We clung to some slim hope that hotties would arrive at the hotel throughout the week, although the Tuesday passed without incident and we were forced to concede that we were destined to stare at fat families for the whole week. This catalogue of disasters made the holiday all the more memorable: most of the banter originated from complaining about the poor conditions.
I saw Mouse for the first time on the second day of the holiday. We had arrived late on Saturday night and headed straight for the clubs. The following afternoon, we noticed that there were a group of four girls young girls sunbathing by the pool. Two of the girls were average to decent looking, whilst the other two could only be described as atrocities. Mouse was the best looking of the group: she was very short with a young fresh face and light brown hair. We all thought that she was quite pretty, although her most prominent assets were her absolutely massive tits. I found out much later that the size of her breasts were 34DD but they were accentuated on her 4 feet 11 inch frame. She was definitely the best looking girl in the hotel, although this was not saying much considering that almost all of the women there looked like beached whales. We largely ignored the group for the first few days thinking that there would be plenty of better looking girls to go at. When this proved not to be the case we bit the bullet and befriended them.
The first time we initiated contact with the group I was not present. I had gone to the gym a mile from the hotel on the fourth day to work out. The bad food and constant drinking was starting to make me feel puffy and I felt compelled to go to the gym to alleviate this feeling. When I got back to the hotel I was told by Aces that he had gone over to talk to them and the Bea and Casanova had joined him. Through this mini-reconnaisance mission they had discovered that the group was from Doncaster and they were housemates. The other half-decent looking girl in the group was Mouse's sister Gemdog. Gemdog became Bea's project for the week to our amusement, firstly because he had previously chastised her to us about her hair (he thought that her dark roots made it look like there was an octopus on top of her head) and secondly because he staked his reputation on the fact that he would nail her before the week was up.
I talked to Mouse for the first time that night at Lineker's Bar. Lineker's is the most popular club in Tenerife and was the only place that was always busy. The first night we went there was arguably the best night of the holiday, as Casanova was hilariously dragged up onto the stage and nicknamed "Posh Sausage" after telling the promoter for some reason that he owned a plush flat in Notting Hill (this is a lie). When I talked to Mouse I was pretty rocked from a combination of pints of Magners and cocktails. The first question that I asked her was how old she was to which she informed me she was nineteen. For some bizarre reason (probably attributable to the alcohol in my bloodstream) I told her that I had initially thought that she was sixteen but I had changed my mind when I saw her sunbathing topless. Thankfully she found this chat to be funny. It was clear that Mouse was a girl who did not take herself seriously and she had some good banter. She demonstrated this fact when she performed the splits for me after I had asked her to prove that she was a gymnast.
Over the next couple of days Bea and myself got to know the sisters better. I had found out that Mouse had a boyfriend of nine months back in Doncaster and thus I dismissed any possibility of getting with her. I acted as a wingman for Bea who was clearly making tracks with Gemdog. We discovered that they were simple folk with simple designs on life: living for the weekend, excessive drinking and shacking up with men. Their reading material for the week consisted of biographies of C-list celebrities and Now magazines. On the Thursday morning Bea and I, having slept on the balcony, were woken up by the sisters yelling from below to invite us on an excursion to the Siam water park. Aces and Casanova were far too tired and hungover to move at that point in the morning so it was just the two of us and the four girl who went. It ended up being a good day out (the water park in my opinion was comparable to Blizzard Beach in Florida) made funnier by the fact that Bea kept shafting me by making me share boats with the other two girls, whilst he hammed it up with the sisters. I had found out the night before that the other two girls fancied me which created some awkwardness.
On the Thursday night Bea and Gemdog ended up pulling each other. Aces accompanied Luke whilst he chased after a dark-haired PR from a club called the Met Bar on the strip which left me alone with Mouse in Rags bar. We ended up buying each other rounds of drinks and talking about relationships. We were on the subject of what kinds of girls I was attracted to and out of the blue she asked me if I thought that she was attracted to me. At this point I knew that she fancied me - she asked the question to determine whether I was attracted to her. The question took me by surprise and stupidly I told her that she could not be attracted to me because she had a boyfriend. Realising my error, I quickly asked her if she was attracted to me to which she responded with a cheeky smile and the answer "I'm not telling you..." She then changed the subject and the moment was lost. Had this been a normal night out then I would have completely fucked things up.
On the final night I made sure that I did not slip up for a second time. I put wore a tight knitted polo shirt (Zara) which shows the musculature in my deltoids and pectorals and pulled Mouse in same place as the night before. I told her at the bar that I fancied her but the ball was in her court since she had a boyfriend. She told me that she was very tempted and things went from there. Mouse was a very good kisser (she returned the compliment) and offered no resistance to sex and almost immediately came back with me to the hotel. Bea had gone back to Gemdog's room so Mouse and I went back to my apartment. When I returned to the room with Mouse I found Casanova asleep in one of the single beds. He had no problems with me waking him up and turfing him out of the room, considering that Bea and myself had slept elsewhere the previous night when he fucked a girl in the main room.
Mouse knew how to fuck despite being young. I had never fucked a girl with tits that big before and whilst I would normally say that this is not as important as a pretty face, it was definitely a massive turn on. She had a relatively dry and tight cunt which made it difficult to enter her even after extensive foreplay. The sensation of her pussy mid-fucking was awesome, however. Most of the time was spent with her on top although I did fuck her missionary at one point. The first stint of fucking went on for forty-five minutes which was something that she was clearly not used to. She expressed surprise that I was still going and I fucked her so much that she even commented that I had a big cock (something which I cannot honestly attest to possessing). We were both very loud and I was shocked that Aces and Casanova did not hear our antics in the adjacent room. I came once and she came four times. We then took a break and went to eat breakfast, the first time I had gotten up early enough to do so that week.
After eating breakfast together we returned back to the room for some sleep although it was not long before we were fucking again. We went for another twenty minutes (she came another three times) before she asked to stop because she was getting sore. It was great sex and she claimed that it was the best that she had ever had. The final day at the resort was somewhat awkward. Neither of us ended up getting any sleep, which meant that we were both fatigued by the time we got our flights home that day. She got a ribbing from her friends for cheating on her boyfriend. Little did I know that they had a sweepstake running on whether or not I liked her and whether she would cheat on her boyfriend if given the opportunity. I would have liked to have fucked her again that day and when we hung out the sexual tension was clear to see. However, having to vacate the rooms at midday made this impossible. When I think about it now, we could have had sex in the room of the hotel where people are allowed to store their suitcases if they have evening flights. We all made our way to the airport later that day at the same time, although unfortunately we did not have the chance for a proper farewell. Bea preferred to avoid Gemdog who he did not end up shagging due to her unfortunately being on the blob.
When back in the UK, Mouse added me to Facebook straight away. We messaged each other for the first week before this communication fizzled out. I tried texting her with no response until about a month later. I knew that she had a pay as you go O2 contract which allowed her to make free calls to O2 phone numbers but not other networks. Thus it took her a while to top up her phone. Perhaps the most off-putting thing about Mouse is her spelling and grammar. Trying to read her text messages was akin to trying to decipher a long lost language at times. Nevertheless we kept in touch over texts at least once a week. Gemdog, in the meantime, was texting Bea every day. She told me on Facebook chat that she thought he looked like Zac Efron and she seemed to have decided that he was her ideal man. Unfortunately for her, the feeling was and still is not mutual.
The last contact that I had from Mouse was on New Years Day. Since then I have not heard a peep out of her. I can only assume that the fact that she has moved in with her boyfriend has perhaps made her take the relationship more seriously. We have seen pictures of her boyfriend on Facebook and I can only describe him as a disaster. Aces quite aptly named him "The Disabled Matt Damon". I do not know the guy's personality, although on looks alone Mouse could do siginficantly better for herself. As Steak would say, her boyfriend clearly "overachieved". I think that it is a shame that we have lost touch this year. Whilst I could never see myself in a relationship with her I would definitely fuck her again if the opportunity arose. She is a great shag and ultimately a nice girl. I hope that things work out for her in life.
I went to Tenerife with my current housemate and best friend Aces, as well as Casanova and Bea (both ex-housemates from the University of Sheffield). We stayed at a hotel called the Compostella Golf and Beach resort. We had booked an apartment for four people but found that there was one fold out bed in the lounge and two twin beds in another room. There was no air conditioning or ceiling fan in the room which turned out to be a blessing since we all took it in turns to sleep out on the balcony throughout the week.
We had spent extra money to receive the benefits of an all inclusive holiday. This entitled us to free food and "local booze" throughout the week. However, to say that the food and booze was laughable would be a generous sentiment. I am the first person to admit that I know nothing about good food, preferring to eat for nutrition rather than taste. Nevertheless even I could tell that the food at the Compostella was awful: grade Z cuts of meat, lasagne without the beef, bland salad, stale bread, etc. When the buffet cart was wheeled away at the end of lunch and dinner, guests were left free to make their own cheese and ham toasties. The local alcohol was even worse. It came in cardboard cups and if you left the vodka sitting in it for more than thirty minutes it started to burn through. I never get hangovers, although after the first night drinking that alcohol I struggled to move the following day until the early afternoon. Whilst the rest of the crew continued to consume the free alcohol, I spent extra money to buy branded alcohol at the hotel: a strategy for which I was rightfully goaded for the duration of the holiday.
We had expected the clubs in Playa de las Americas to be packed with young, good-looking English girls who would be up for sexual encounters. However, we should have known that turning up in the middle of October, out of the holiday season, would equate to deserted bars and clubs. We were told that the two days for new transfers was Tuesdays and Saturdays. We clung to some slim hope that hotties would arrive at the hotel throughout the week, although the Tuesday passed without incident and we were forced to concede that we were destined to stare at fat families for the whole week. This catalogue of disasters made the holiday all the more memorable: most of the banter originated from complaining about the poor conditions.
I saw Mouse for the first time on the second day of the holiday. We had arrived late on Saturday night and headed straight for the clubs. The following afternoon, we noticed that there were a group of four girls young girls sunbathing by the pool. Two of the girls were average to decent looking, whilst the other two could only be described as atrocities. Mouse was the best looking of the group: she was very short with a young fresh face and light brown hair. We all thought that she was quite pretty, although her most prominent assets were her absolutely massive tits. I found out much later that the size of her breasts were 34DD but they were accentuated on her 4 feet 11 inch frame. She was definitely the best looking girl in the hotel, although this was not saying much considering that almost all of the women there looked like beached whales. We largely ignored the group for the first few days thinking that there would be plenty of better looking girls to go at. When this proved not to be the case we bit the bullet and befriended them.
The first time we initiated contact with the group I was not present. I had gone to the gym a mile from the hotel on the fourth day to work out. The bad food and constant drinking was starting to make me feel puffy and I felt compelled to go to the gym to alleviate this feeling. When I got back to the hotel I was told by Aces that he had gone over to talk to them and the Bea and Casanova had joined him. Through this mini-reconnaisance mission they had discovered that the group was from Doncaster and they were housemates. The other half-decent looking girl in the group was Mouse's sister Gemdog. Gemdog became Bea's project for the week to our amusement, firstly because he had previously chastised her to us about her hair (he thought that her dark roots made it look like there was an octopus on top of her head) and secondly because he staked his reputation on the fact that he would nail her before the week was up.
I talked to Mouse for the first time that night at Lineker's Bar. Lineker's is the most popular club in Tenerife and was the only place that was always busy. The first night we went there was arguably the best night of the holiday, as Casanova was hilariously dragged up onto the stage and nicknamed "Posh Sausage" after telling the promoter for some reason that he owned a plush flat in Notting Hill (this is a lie). When I talked to Mouse I was pretty rocked from a combination of pints of Magners and cocktails. The first question that I asked her was how old she was to which she informed me she was nineteen. For some bizarre reason (probably attributable to the alcohol in my bloodstream) I told her that I had initially thought that she was sixteen but I had changed my mind when I saw her sunbathing topless. Thankfully she found this chat to be funny. It was clear that Mouse was a girl who did not take herself seriously and she had some good banter. She demonstrated this fact when she performed the splits for me after I had asked her to prove that she was a gymnast.
Over the next couple of days Bea and myself got to know the sisters better. I had found out that Mouse had a boyfriend of nine months back in Doncaster and thus I dismissed any possibility of getting with her. I acted as a wingman for Bea who was clearly making tracks with Gemdog. We discovered that they were simple folk with simple designs on life: living for the weekend, excessive drinking and shacking up with men. Their reading material for the week consisted of biographies of C-list celebrities and Now magazines. On the Thursday morning Bea and I, having slept on the balcony, were woken up by the sisters yelling from below to invite us on an excursion to the Siam water park. Aces and Casanova were far too tired and hungover to move at that point in the morning so it was just the two of us and the four girl who went. It ended up being a good day out (the water park in my opinion was comparable to Blizzard Beach in Florida) made funnier by the fact that Bea kept shafting me by making me share boats with the other two girls, whilst he hammed it up with the sisters. I had found out the night before that the other two girls fancied me which created some awkwardness.
On the Thursday night Bea and Gemdog ended up pulling each other. Aces accompanied Luke whilst he chased after a dark-haired PR from a club called the Met Bar on the strip which left me alone with Mouse in Rags bar. We ended up buying each other rounds of drinks and talking about relationships. We were on the subject of what kinds of girls I was attracted to and out of the blue she asked me if I thought that she was attracted to me. At this point I knew that she fancied me - she asked the question to determine whether I was attracted to her. The question took me by surprise and stupidly I told her that she could not be attracted to me because she had a boyfriend. Realising my error, I quickly asked her if she was attracted to me to which she responded with a cheeky smile and the answer "I'm not telling you..." She then changed the subject and the moment was lost. Had this been a normal night out then I would have completely fucked things up.
On the final night I made sure that I did not slip up for a second time. I put wore a tight knitted polo shirt (Zara) which shows the musculature in my deltoids and pectorals and pulled Mouse in same place as the night before. I told her at the bar that I fancied her but the ball was in her court since she had a boyfriend. She told me that she was very tempted and things went from there. Mouse was a very good kisser (she returned the compliment) and offered no resistance to sex and almost immediately came back with me to the hotel. Bea had gone back to Gemdog's room so Mouse and I went back to my apartment. When I returned to the room with Mouse I found Casanova asleep in one of the single beds. He had no problems with me waking him up and turfing him out of the room, considering that Bea and myself had slept elsewhere the previous night when he fucked a girl in the main room.
Mouse knew how to fuck despite being young. I had never fucked a girl with tits that big before and whilst I would normally say that this is not as important as a pretty face, it was definitely a massive turn on. She had a relatively dry and tight cunt which made it difficult to enter her even after extensive foreplay. The sensation of her pussy mid-fucking was awesome, however. Most of the time was spent with her on top although I did fuck her missionary at one point. The first stint of fucking went on for forty-five minutes which was something that she was clearly not used to. She expressed surprise that I was still going and I fucked her so much that she even commented that I had a big cock (something which I cannot honestly attest to possessing). We were both very loud and I was shocked that Aces and Casanova did not hear our antics in the adjacent room. I came once and she came four times. We then took a break and went to eat breakfast, the first time I had gotten up early enough to do so that week.
After eating breakfast together we returned back to the room for some sleep although it was not long before we were fucking again. We went for another twenty minutes (she came another three times) before she asked to stop because she was getting sore. It was great sex and she claimed that it was the best that she had ever had. The final day at the resort was somewhat awkward. Neither of us ended up getting any sleep, which meant that we were both fatigued by the time we got our flights home that day. She got a ribbing from her friends for cheating on her boyfriend. Little did I know that they had a sweepstake running on whether or not I liked her and whether she would cheat on her boyfriend if given the opportunity. I would have liked to have fucked her again that day and when we hung out the sexual tension was clear to see. However, having to vacate the rooms at midday made this impossible. When I think about it now, we could have had sex in the room of the hotel where people are allowed to store their suitcases if they have evening flights. We all made our way to the airport later that day at the same time, although unfortunately we did not have the chance for a proper farewell. Bea preferred to avoid Gemdog who he did not end up shagging due to her unfortunately being on the blob.
When back in the UK, Mouse added me to Facebook straight away. We messaged each other for the first week before this communication fizzled out. I tried texting her with no response until about a month later. I knew that she had a pay as you go O2 contract which allowed her to make free calls to O2 phone numbers but not other networks. Thus it took her a while to top up her phone. Perhaps the most off-putting thing about Mouse is her spelling and grammar. Trying to read her text messages was akin to trying to decipher a long lost language at times. Nevertheless we kept in touch over texts at least once a week. Gemdog, in the meantime, was texting Bea every day. She told me on Facebook chat that she thought he looked like Zac Efron and she seemed to have decided that he was her ideal man. Unfortunately for her, the feeling was and still is not mutual.
The last contact that I had from Mouse was on New Years Day. Since then I have not heard a peep out of her. I can only assume that the fact that she has moved in with her boyfriend has perhaps made her take the relationship more seriously. We have seen pictures of her boyfriend on Facebook and I can only describe him as a disaster. Aces quite aptly named him "The Disabled Matt Damon". I do not know the guy's personality, although on looks alone Mouse could do siginficantly better for herself. As Steak would say, her boyfriend clearly "overachieved". I think that it is a shame that we have lost touch this year. Whilst I could never see myself in a relationship with her I would definitely fuck her again if the opportunity arose. She is a great shag and ultimately a nice girl. I hope that things work out for her in life.
Whisky
Over the last couple of years, I have been trying different types of Scotch whisky. I was introduced to whisky by the Tan brothers from Australia when they were in the UK in 2008. As the stresses of my job have been piling up I have been drinking a small glass on most nights. The first whisky that I bought for myself last year was a twelve-year Bowmore. This has been my favourite whisky to date. It has a very buttery taste and oily texture. The second whisky that I tried was a twelve-year Glenmorangie. If felt that this had a stronger taste and whilst entirely drinkable was not as nice as the Bowmore. My father bought me a one litre twelve-year Glenfiddich which I polished off in about six to seven weeks, before I purchased a blend for the first time, in the form of a bottle of Famous Grouse. I have learned recently that single malts should be consumed neat and blends on the rocks. I drink both types on the rocks because I feel that a little bit of water to dilute the strength of the flavour makes it that much more palatable to me. I have a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label, that I received for free for helping out at a recent trade event, awaiting me when I have finished the Famous Grouse.
Last night I went out with some colleagues from work to a bar called "The Mitre" in Holland Park. It was a trendy bar, which surprised me given its name. When I was told that we were going to this bar for drinks I immediately conjured images in my head of old men with thick white moustaches drinking pints of Newcastle Brown Ale. It was quite the opposite as the place was teeming with young professionals. I wore a white shirt with brown, pink and olive green stripes and matching tie (Red Herring), faded jeans (Levis), chocolate brown belt (Kenneth Cole), chocolate brown pointy shoes (Red Or Dead) and dark brown slim fit blazer (Zara). They had a decent whisky selection and I tried a double Laphroig (strong, smoky and full of flavour) and a few single Glenmorangies. At this point I prefer to drink whisky rather than heavy stouts and beers, both which generally make me bloated and have plenty of calories.
Last night I went out with some colleagues from work to a bar called "The Mitre" in Holland Park. It was a trendy bar, which surprised me given its name. When I was told that we were going to this bar for drinks I immediately conjured images in my head of old men with thick white moustaches drinking pints of Newcastle Brown Ale. It was quite the opposite as the place was teeming with young professionals. I wore a white shirt with brown, pink and olive green stripes and matching tie (Red Herring), faded jeans (Levis), chocolate brown belt (Kenneth Cole), chocolate brown pointy shoes (Red Or Dead) and dark brown slim fit blazer (Zara). They had a decent whisky selection and I tried a double Laphroig (strong, smoky and full of flavour) and a few single Glenmorangies. At this point I prefer to drink whisky rather than heavy stouts and beers, both which generally make me bloated and have plenty of calories.
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
Forgiveness
Cam is a girl who works in the marketing department. Last year she lived just down the road from me in Chiswick. Every so often I would give her lifts into work and I enjoyed her company on these occasions. Back in July after dropping her off at her house, I noticed that four of my Now That's What I Call Music CDs (68, 69, 71 and 72) were missing. I was puzzled as to their whereabouts at first and when I asked Cam the next time I gave her a lift she told me that she had borrowed them to copy them. I remember thinking at the time that it was rude of her to take them without asking, although I trusted that she would return them to me swiftly.
Fast forward nine months and Cam still had not returned the CDs to me. During this time I had constantly asked her to return them, including sending her emails at work for five consecutive days in December. Suspecting that she had lost them I offered her an alternative to pay me £45. I paid £51.97 for the CDs at their original price so I thought that this was a generous offer. In spite of this she ignored all of my messages and at Pri's recent birthday party she acted as if there was no problem between us. Over the last month I have made a conscious effort to ignore her and avoid her to leave her in no doubt that there was a problem.
Yesterday I emailed her to tell her that I had not forgotten about the CDs and that I had been disappointed in her behaviour. To her credit she responded swiftly and got the £45 to me within the hour. It turned out that her housemate (who I think is fucking hot) had taken the CDs and lost them. I have still lost respect for her even though I now consider her debt to be repaid. I can never understand people who come from privileged backgrounds and are not only tight with money, but also deceiptful. There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that Cam would not have compensated me if I had not fucking asked her to do so.
Fast forward nine months and Cam still had not returned the CDs to me. During this time I had constantly asked her to return them, including sending her emails at work for five consecutive days in December. Suspecting that she had lost them I offered her an alternative to pay me £45. I paid £51.97 for the CDs at their original price so I thought that this was a generous offer. In spite of this she ignored all of my messages and at Pri's recent birthday party she acted as if there was no problem between us. Over the last month I have made a conscious effort to ignore her and avoid her to leave her in no doubt that there was a problem.
Yesterday I emailed her to tell her that I had not forgotten about the CDs and that I had been disappointed in her behaviour. To her credit she responded swiftly and got the £45 to me within the hour. It turned out that her housemate (who I think is fucking hot) had taken the CDs and lost them. I have still lost respect for her even though I now consider her debt to be repaid. I can never understand people who come from privileged backgrounds and are not only tight with money, but also deceiptful. There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that Cam would not have compensated me if I had not fucking asked her to do so.
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