Partying with my brother

My brother is my best friend. We spend hours on the phone every single day, unless I'm on a date, that is. I always call him back later. We talk about everything. He knows about my guys, he's seen Mister Ink (and sort of approved him, I guess), he tells all sorts of stories to people about my quest to find a decent guy and he challenges me to do fun stuff every time we're partying together.

This is us...

... but we're not the least bit romantic, tho. I haven't seen the last three seasons of HIMYM yet, so no spoilers, buddies.

He is the best wingman there is. Last time were out together my brother did something legendary. He signed both of us up for speed dating. It was one of the best nights ever, it was truly epic. I didn't find anyone interesting enough, no one whom I'd like to date, or even give my phone number to, but the whole event was really funny. I was miles outside my comfort zone, and my brother loved to watch me writhe in agony (the guys were complete idiots, by the way). The speed dating thingy didn't go well for either of us, so we went to the pub next door to unravel our minds. We sat there, told the cute bartender about our night, laughed at all the weirdos we've been on dates with and tried to make decent plans for the remainder of the night. 

Three tall and muscular sporty looking guys walked in. One of them caught my eye. He wasn't the tallest of the three, he had ashen hair, a really nice smile and he looked like a hockey player (yummy!) My brother challenged me again, said that I should go up to him and do my magic. I felt shy (which never happens) and my brother had to dare me - if I remember correctly, he threatened to lock me out of his flat if I don't have the guts to talk to the guy. My brother went to the loo and left me alone sitting by the bar. Some random guy came up to me, trying to have a conversation with me. I wasn't the least bit interested in him. It was exactly what I needed to boost me on! I approached the mysterious hockey player-looking guy, saying "My big brother dared me to come hit on you. I'm having the weirdest night ever, I participated in a speed dating event a few hours ago, and I got all these phone numbers from guys I don't want to call and and and and you're my type." Let's call him Mister White. 

I sat there for a few minutes talking to them before the guys asked my brother to join us and tell them all about our little speed dating experience. We entertained them really well, shared loads of laughs and had so much fun together. My hockey player-looking Mister White didn't seem to be that into me, so I forgot about him and chatted with his friends in stead. In fact, I found myself sharing a pizza with his best friend at 5 a.m. I didn't give my phone number to any of the guys and didn't ask for any either. 

Six weeks later, Mister White runs into my brother at the pub. His first questions to my brother were "Is your sister here with you? How is she? Can I have her phone number?" My brother is the best. He didn't give him my phone number before asking him what his intentions were - hahaha I still can't believe that he teased the guy! My brother texted me the following day, asking me if it is OK for him to give my phone number to Mister White. 

My response was something like this: ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! Give it to him, you idiot.

So yeah, Mister White got my number, six weeks and five days after meeting me. 

We had the best night in another city yesterday. I was wearing a white mini dress and heels, and my hair was all curly and gorgeous. We were hanging out with three of our cousins, and had a blast. My cousins play hockey for a living, so we met up with tons of players during the night. My Saturday challenge was to find a pilot - check - and a professional hockey player - check, check, check, check. I didn't like any of the guys enough to actually hit on them. I found it entertaining to be at a club, walk around, checking out cute single guys, asking what they do for a living and if by chance I happen to find what I'm looking for, stay and talk for a while. 

Oh, and my 14 second rule has become a 4 second rule. I lost my brother and cousins at the club, turned around and boom there he was. This tall, blonde, pilot guy, telling me how nice I look.

Yeah, that was nice.

May day, May day

I'm not a very shy girl - a quality that my friends often take advantage of. I'm challenged to do weird stuff almost daily. This is a story about my May day challenge.

International worker's day (also known as Labour Day here in Europe) is celebrated on May 1st. This year May 1st was a Thursday, and I took the Friday off. My dear friend Katy challenged me to pick up a guy at the airport, catch a flight with him and spend a few days in a strange city with a strange guy.

Well, here's how it all happened.

I left work early on Wednesday. I was at the airport at 1 p.m., looking around for sweet-looking guys. A flight to Barcelona was due to depart at 5 p.m. - another flight to Lisbon at 4 p.m. As I walked in, I decided to find myself on either flight - I wanted to spend my long weekend somewhere warm (because I packed my suitcase with sundresses, heels and a pair of polka-dotted bikinis). I saw this tall, muscular guy in Converse shoes. He was checking in, looking kind of distressed, not really getting the self-check-in automat. I approached him, asked him if he needed help and told him about Katy challenging me to do something this silly and spontaneous. He got really excited about my little dare and invited me to join him in his five-star hotel in Lisbon. So, I picked up my credit card, bought a trip to Lisbon to spend a long weekend with a guy I didn't know.

I selected him because he had cool shoes and a cute smile. And he was in his early thirties, with no engagement ring. He's now called Mister Tan.

Mister Tan had originally planned to visit Lisbon with two friends. They had separate rooms in a fancy-ass hotel in central Lisbon. I mean, the room was freaking fantastic. First night in Lisbon, I was wearing a cute little dress and high heels. We went to dinner with Mister Tan's friends. It was a cozy seafood restaurant, where the waiters spoke nothing but Portuguese. Luckily I studied Spanish in high school, so I had a slight clue on how to order meals and drinks. Things worked out really well. It was pleasantly warm in the evening, we got lost in the narrow alleys of Lisbon, drank a pitcher of sangria and went back to the hotel. Mister Tan was the cutest: I turned off the lights, climbed into bed with him and said good night. I heard him sigh and say "I... I don't really date, so I have no idea about these things... Am I supposed to kiss you or what?" I had no comeback, just tried not to laugh at his face. He kissed me on the mouth, really gently, and said good night.

We didn't see his friends for the rest of the trip. May day was spent at the beach. We were feeding each other strawberries, having a great time, chilling, drinking sangria and caipirinha, chatting away on mundane things, swimming in the Atlantic and whatnot. I really enjoyed my time with him. He never really touched me when we were outside our hotel room, but after Thursday, he was just sweet and gentle. It felt like he really cared for me, he made love to me so tenderly. I really liked his style. That went on for four more days, us having fun in the city, almost feeling like friends, and lovers in the night. Just the way I liked it. I had the best four days of my life with him.

The last day I felt a weird vibe between us. I asked him to tell me stories, and he didn't really have anything to share. That was, until he told me that he was building a house outside the metropolis that I live in. What guy builds his own house? I really didn't like to ask any more questions. I sincerely think that he is in a relationship. Not cool.

The flight home was really a pain in the butt. Since I bought my trip a lot after Mister Tan, I sat about ten rows behind him. I had no one to lean on, no shoulder to rest my head on. I slept for a maximum of two hours. My flight landed at 5 a.m. Phew.
Mister Red picked me up at the airport. He had worked all night and was really tired, yet anxious to see me. Well, he drove me home, pulled my hair and did his tricks on me, and left. I wasn't sure if I was angry at him or not - I mean, I was grateful for the ride home, but I was way too tired to have sex with him... I told him that, but he didn't listen to me - just pushed me to my bedroom, undressed me and worked his magic on me. I won't text him anymore. I guess.

My motto. Thanks, Barney.

So, this was my May day challenge. Can't wait what Midsummer brings...

Meow.

Girls' night out

Daymmmmmmm.

Saturday night. My girlfriends and I went out to dance. We spent a fabulous night in the city, just the three of us. I was on a roll, I had just experienced a perfect week with my favourite boys.

As you've probably understood, I'm not a shy girl. I'm really good at picking up guys. It runs in the family, my brother and cousins are male versions of me. I just make weird chit-chat with guys I meet. Sometimes I'm the one to initiate the conversation... But mostly I'm being hit on.

So, Saturday. We all looked fine. I started talking with three guys at a club. I was really into this one guy in a black tee, he was my type. His friends were decent-looking as well, if you know what I mean. One of them was a pilot. Sold. He showed me his Tinder profile, but I can't find him. Mister Pilot from Saturday, if you recognize yourself, send me a message, please. My girlfriends joined soon and we all had a blast. That is, until I lost them. I don't recall what I did to lose them, probably went to the loo or to buy a drink...
I was looking for them, when this tall blonde guy turned around and asked me if I was okay - I said no, I just lost my besties. He promised to entertain me until I found them. Well, he entertained me just fine - I woke up at his place five hours later. Oh my god, his flat was the dirtiest little hole I've ever seen. You should have seen his bathroom. I really didn't want to be barefooted in his shower. I don't usually pack flip-flops in my clutch. Maybe I should.

He was the nicest guy in his thirties, funny and kind of cute (although blondes are not really my thing). Apparently he works like 80 hours a week, because he's never home. I was starving, went to the fridge and found nothing. Not even ketchup. That was just odd. He had made all these weird plans about spending the day together. Yeah, no thanks. I got dressed, said bye and took the bus home. I guess I made up a lie about having a meeting or something.

I guess I gave him my number earlier, because he texted me on Sunday, asking how my day went. I was with Mister Orange, curled up in his lap in my undies. Well, I'm juuuuuust fine. Mister Orange was the perfect hangover company. He stroked my hair, fed me, entertained me and well, you know. I really like his style, he's seriously improving, although he's never been bad. Not even middle-class. Right now Mister Orange is in the definite top five.

Perfect for now.

Oh, and the guy in the black tee was married, or engaged. So that was it, then.

The adventurous Mister Red

So far we know that for some reason, men are attracted to me. We also know that it takes a maximum of 14 seconds for me to establish a weird connection with gorgeous men. Mister Red is one of them.

I call Mister Red my "Sunday man" - even to his face. I met him on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. I was wearing running tights and an ugly jacket, but so was he. I won't reveal the exact location of our encounter, since it would totally give me away. But let's say that I picked him up by saying something idiotic that resulted in a "Who's ya daddy"-kind of discussion, laughter and exchange of phone numbers. Kah-ching.

Mister Red is the boldest guy I've met so far. He spent a few years travelling in Central Asia and Kaukasus, doing odd jobs and even spent a few days in jail somewhere in Kazakstan. His stories stopped surprising me after a while, but they're still really funny. He tells me stories, I do my best to distract him (I play with his hair, kiss his neck and rub his shoulders) when he's talking. I disturb him because his stories are ridiculous (yet true) and simply because I have the power to do so. He's so easily distracted.

Mister Red is the male version of me. He has no interest in finding a relationship, he just wants to experience stuff with different people. I'm so lucky to be one of his girls. He's not really my type - even though he's dark, tall and gorgeous - but he sends out a weird vibe and I just have to have him. He's a bad boy, I'm a good girl. What's not to love?

Our WhatsApp discussions are soooo entertaining - we mostly send pictures of tigers and kittens to each other; he usually sends me a picture of his bed, captioned "I need you here. When do you get off work?"; make growling noises to each other on the phone (true story) and joke about next Sunday.

Oh yeah, I call him Tiger, he calls me Kitty. Surprise.

I know that he, too, has a blog somewhere, where he shares his adventures with women. He meets a lot of people in his job and sometimes women pick him up at work. I just find that fascinating. I'm not jealous, not one bit. I have my arsenal of Tinder men and random guys from bars, I can keep myself entertained if he misses a Sunday date.

Last Sunday he stated that he and I have something in common: people fall in love with us although we try to push them away. He said that he dumps a different girl almost once a week, mostly because she's fallen for him.
"Does that sound familiar?" -"Yeah."

We agreed that if either one has the slightest feeling of having a crush, we'd talk about it. That would result in not seeing each other again, which would be a total bummer. I really like this guy, so let's hope that no deeper feelings arise.

Kitty wants to play!

I like lists. But for some reason I have serious difficulties with placing Mister Red on my "Favourite guys" top10-list. We laugh a lot when we're together, have sex at least three times a night, he never stays over (I never sleep over at his place either) and everything is cool. There's just something about him that makes him "unlistable". I can't place him in a box.
But he's definitely in the top three of my favourite guys list when it comes to sex. I'm having serious trouble describing it. He just really knows what to do with me. He asked me about my fantasies, I shared them with him, and five minutes later he did exactly what I described (plus a little extra to surprise me). There's a mutual bond of trust between us.

He shared one of his secret fantasies with me.
Easter Sunday, please be here soon.

"I've met you somewhere, right?"

Tuesday.

I was out on a jog. I was running past a cute, tall and blonde guy. He waved at me, bid me to stop.

He said: "Hi. I've met you somewhere, right?"
I replied: "I've heard that one before. You're cute, want to go again?"
He laughed at me. We started talking. Turns out that I do know him from before. He plays football with my friends from high school. I've seen him play a dozen times, but I've never really paid him any attention. Why? He's chin-dropping gorgeous! Athletic build, a blonde beard (again with the beard!), light blue-green eyes and beautiful, wavy blonde hair.

I wiped the excess drool from my chin (metaphorically, I don't drool in real life) when he asked me to join him for dinner. We had so much fun. I didn't finish my plate before it got cold, I was talking so much.

He's my boy next door. He's sweet, polite, kind and always smiling when he's with me. I feel 16 years old when I'm with him. I can almost hear my Dad yelling at me when I'm kissing Mister Orange on my sofa. Oh yeah, I named him Mister Orange because he was wearing orange and brown striped socks when he came by. Sexy, I know.

I like him, but I find him a bit too polite sometimes. Feels like he has to ask permission to touch me. But when he does, it's just pure magic. He has big hands and he knows how to use them. My girlfriends keep asking me if we've done it already. Yeah, we have. Twice. He's extremely good at what he does. Brains-splattered-on-the-wall kind of good.

He's also definite boyfriend material, although I do know that he's dating a lot of other girls. But who am I to judge? I'm seeing 5-6 guys every week, a few of them twice a week.
Sorry, Mum.

My Mum doesn't know about all my adventures, thankfully. I've told her about Mister Orange and Mister Yellow. Mum is excited about Mister Orange, I guess she thinks I'm seeing him almost every day. I could, since he lives next door, but I'm a busy Kitty ;)