WARNING: Boast Post.
“What’s your number?” my buddy Brian asked after downing his pint. As is tradition amongst our crew, we had assembled in the local pub for some pre-voyage farewell drinks.
My flight left in a few hours.
“Well, what’s your number for the trip? Two, three?”
He was of course referencing the number of sexual liaisons I expected for my first trip of 2013. (Most guy have a certain figure in mind when it comes to sex when travelling.)
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I’m going for a month and we’re mostly in Muzzyland, so to be honest, I’d be happy with one new flag.”
I wasn’t lying. When you’ve reached triple figures, counting gets old. That said, new flags still excite me. Some of may be surprised to read this, but I set my sights relatively low when it comes to sexing up the ladies when travelling. I’m always mentally preparing for a a poor outcome – or not getting laid at all, for that matter. That way, when expectations are exceeded, I still get a buzz. When you aim super high, like shooting for double digits a month, you’re putting too much pressure on yourself and risk disappointment. Relax, I say. What comes, cums. As a result of this mentality, for the last three years I keep surprising myself with results. I keep expecting the pussy parade to end, but it just keeps on coming. Still, I’m not greedy. Simply one would do.
“You’ll do better than that,” asserted my friend. “Sure you’ll probably get a new flag your first day in Luxembourg.”
I’ve always admired Brian’s confidence in my ability. The guy has more faith in me than I do! Despite the difficulty territory covered in our last trip featuring the Caucasus, the correctly predicted I’d garner four new notches, even when I thought is he was crazy at the time.
Well it turns out he was right again.
The first adventure of 2013 has begun with a whirlwind 24 hours.
Yesterday, just after arranging two dates back-to-back via pipelining, some fucker stole my phone. Foolishly, I left it charging and took a trip to the bathroom. Through 20 countries in Africa I’ve never been robbed once, but my first day in the world’s third richest country some cunt steals my Galaxy. It was a bad start to the trip.
Luckily, despite being unreachable and arriving half an hour late on each occasion, both my dates went ahead.
The first meet-up at 6.30 was with a slim little Bulgarian girl. Nice body, but not great in the face. We had a few drinks, kissed a little bit, and parted ways after two hours so I could meet-up with my 9.00.
The 9.00 was the prize… a smoking Moscowvite. She was your typical ideal-type Russian chick: tall, long fair hair, blue eyes, a naturally pretty face and a beautiful Slavic frame with not a pick of fat. She immediately became intrigued when I started the conversation in (bad) Russian. Combined with her romantic notions of Irishmen, the foundations were set for a great date.
By 1AM, she was bent over her mattress asking me to fuck her in the ass. Good times. Finally, after years of spitting Russian, I finally captured the flag. I’m meeting her again in two hours. Can’t wait.
What a way to start the trip. Tomorrow, I’m meeting two crewmembers in Brussels airport. From there, we fly to the Arabian gulf for the weekend, where we will pick the last two members of our Mexican Pirate crew. Then the five of us will lay siege to the horn of Africa on return to one my favourite countries – Ethiopia.
Avast me hearties!