So I’m a day late, no apologies. I was out having fun, partying like crazy, hitting on cute white guys and getting pissed so you can have interesting blog material. Although in retrospect, what I did on NYE is no more interesting that what most people did anyway, which is to say get wasted and herald in the New Year with a bang and a hang-over. And for some of the unfortunate, a scream at the stranger you eventually woke up with.
A week ago, I must nearly have sworn to myself that this new year’s was not going to be anything like last new years, where I got hit on my lame guys who insisted I was obligated to spend the whole night with them because they bought me drinks, my then boyfriend of sorts was too wasted to give me a good enough shag, and all my girl friends had all decided to get laid by people they didn’t know. So this year, I just thought I’d get wasted at Cupido’s, which was what I did eventually end up doing, but did not spend the whole night doing.
For some reason, right on the last day of ’04, I’d decided that I will absolutely refuse to be good. It was ’04, and whatever it was, I was going to score. I was going to lay a new guy, and damn would it be a way to bring in the new year. I had in mind who ( a particular culinary connoisseur I found to be rather pleasant company; he makes me laugh). But he had to work last night, and didn’t seem too keen on meeting me anyway, possibly because he already had my number and there was no hurry to get me laid. New Year’s Eve is just too good an excuse for anyone not to have not used it so they can find someone new.
Cupido made dinner, and we had relatively acceptable pasta and room-temperature chardonnay. But since I’m not particular about what temperature my white wine is served under, it was pleasant enough. He told me a very upsetting story about how the woman he had been working on a number of projects with and gone missing in Phuket, along with her little girl. It had been all the more incomprehensible to me –I daren’t think about it too much, because it really freaks me out- since I’d played hopscotch with the little girl once and had helped her make sculptures out of peanut-butter and icing sugar. He’d started telling me about it when I told him I hated some of the people working with his client company. It wasn’t true of course and I do not hate them or hold any grudges, but I did think they were rather childish. He’d then looked at me rather severely and said, ‘so you hate the people at that company huh…?’
He insisted we go party after that, and we took it down to CHIJMES. I popped into the café DV before that to say to the staff, of which I am very familiar with, and they bought me a few glasses of champagne, which made me very happy. What is New Year’s without champagne!
The people at CHIJMES had set up a platform in the courtyard, and I thought it was cool because there was no queue, there were gorgeous guys aplenty, and it was free. By this time Cupido had started getting me to check out the girls and asking me what sort I fancied. And I believe that we’d both started to have the feeling that we were simply together because we didn’t want to leave the party alone, in case there was no one. On my part it was no problem of course, laying guys is an easy occupation. So is getting girls nailed of course, if you happen to be white, cute and rich, listed in order of importance (If you’re going to fuck someone new at a party, it would hardly matter if he were really rich or not, how would you know until you’re in the cab and he gives the driver the address.
I started dancing with this really cute guy with a strong accent to which I was too drunk to place a finger on what the hell it was… but it was a cute accent. He seemed to agree to facial piercings on girls and let me touch his left nipple. What a weird thing to do, I thought, then realized that he’d a ring on it. I fully agree with nipple piercings on men. In fact, I fully agree with piercings on any person anywhere as long as they are not too many, and with the exception that they are not set on a dick. I felt bad about leaving C alone though and went to him and asked him if he minded me chasing other boys. In my exact words, ‘I think some of the guys here are really hot, I’ll go dance with them, you don’t mind, do you.’ Of course he said that he didn’t mind, I’ve been so lovely to him after all, but that is not to say he’s not been likewise to me.
I dance with him for awhile anyway, but flirted with the guy directly across me while doing so. He’d his arms wrapped around an atrocious looking Polynesian girl (you know how Polynesian girls are. When they are hot, they are really, really hot. And when they aren’t, but think they are and wear all that makeup that really disagrees with their skin colour under party lights, they really aren’t anyone’s cup of tea). So I was in this translucent top where you could most certainly see my nipples, and I was dancing with my back to Cupido, his arms around my waist, while licking my lips at the guy. I suppose the girl noticed and wasn’t too happy, which was my intention exactly, because she didn’t look like she was having fun anyway and was just out there to snag a white guy. He wasn’t even vaguely attractive.
It got lame and I bumped into a real cute one after that. I thought he was incredibly hot, must have been about 1.9 meter, very bookish looking but with an athletic build. Think Ross from Friends, but with harder features. I really wanted to go back with him, but as luck would have it, I bumped into an acquaintance of mine, whom we’d casually chatted about threesomes and such nonsense of the like before out of no initiation of mine. His colleague was the one that had started telling me I was gorgeous, and I’d started returning the favour. Along the way we started complimenting some particularly erogenous zones, and hence. There’s nothing wrong with him, and nothing wrong with the girl that had started getting the three of us to kiss together, among some other rather inappropriate things (but what on NYE is appropriate under normal circumstances anyway) , but I was just too tired to want a threesome
I finally managed to get away, but Ross had already found another girl. Or rather, she had found him. It was the same unattractive girl featured earlier. I got quite a shock, and though, Jesus, what a waste. I came up to him, and at about 1 foot, she looked at me angrily and told me to keep off, ‘He’s Mine’. I laughed and kissed him on the cheek anyway, and told him to have a good night; but be careful, for she looks like a psycho bitch from hell.
Went off, bumped into nipple-pierced guy who I think had come back to look for me (his friends had all left by then it would seem). It was probably
‘How responsible of you, you can get condoms at the money changer.’
I was very happy with the night. He was a nice person, wasn’t vaguely drunk and thus knew what he was doing, and most importantly (considering that it was nearly a one-night stand, we’ll see what it is, depending on whether or not he calls me back. Which I think is highly likely since he asked me for my number the next morning), anyway, most importantly, he was hot. I took off all his clothes and was very pleased at everything underneath it. I can say for sure I find tattoos very sexy. He was a fantastic shag.
As you know, the sex the past couple of weeks has been nothing short of mediocre, and I’d rather no sex then lousy sex, simply because lousy sex really hurts. I’m not aroused, and thus dry, and that makes for rather painful shagging. So this was good.
He was very lovely too, and for the first time in my life, I someone loaned me his toothbrush. Come to think of it, my silliness about not borrowing toothbrushes ever is really founded in silliness. For the love of God, I’ve kissed and fucked you, a little more bodily fluid exchanged won’t do any more harm then what’s already been done (unless you’ve had durian I suppose).
I had to borrow a T-shirt from him the next day because mine was meant to be worn with at least some manner of under-garment, but I’d left it in Cupido’s car, because I thought it would be fun. You can honestly see my nipples through it, up to what shade of brown they are. He was all like ‘oh dear’ while making me coffee and rummaging though his wardrobe for a tee.
In all essence, he was most pleasing company, and he did ask me for my number, and I suppose it would be nice to meet up with him some time soon. But he flies often (happens when your job’s to fly planes), will be leaving in 2 weeks, and I’ve my own life to lead just as he has his. Which was basically what I felt when I left the next morning to meet the Girlfriend for lunch and a most hilarious, albeit a little too violent movie: Kung-Fu Hustle. I highly recommend it, everything, from concept to set-design to the coloration of the movie, it was all good.
But nonetheless, I never saw a problem in having one more person to like, and shag and generally have lots of fun with. As I’ve told Élan, there’s nothing long with long term relationships, which is how I like most of mine anyway, as long as they are worth keeping. The problem comes when you start expecting too much out of people. But up till that, they have their merits aplenty. And it’s all these people that make up the fun part of living in my life. I’ll not understand people who just shag, and leave it at that. I can understand why guys do it sometime, for example, if she starts infringing on your lifestyle and insisting you buy her a wedding ring after a fortnight romance. I think people really are like books, and there are some that are fun to talk to as there are books that are fun to read. Some that constantly evolve as you get to know them better and better, and of course, some that get stucked into a clichéd storyline that bore the hell out of you, waste your time, and add no value.
Interesting people excite me.
xoxox
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