[EDIT, Dec 2013: I’m at 64 flags now]
On Friday night, I got my Swedish flag. It was a worthy epitaph to my misadventures in flagging. I’m generally a casual flagger, but after finishing my dissertation in early September I was a man on a mission. I wanted to get my 50th flag before my 26th birthday. It was a kind of a lame goal, but screw it. What else was I going to do before this holiday came around?
In that time, I learned a lesson. Flagging for the sake of flagging is a folly. There is no point in dicking some ugly mongoloid just to get a flag. (A caveat to this is difficult countries, like Saudi, Bhutan, or North Korea. If someone banged a 500lb dreg-wench from either country I think I’d still be impressed).
Could I have gotten my 50th flag before my birthday?
Yes. I had a Somalian-Dutch girl, a Korean, and a Russian all on a plate, but nada.
I met the Somalian at a bar. She was cute, but I pushed too hard and blew it (she was a Muslim and I went way too caveman way too soon). The other two girls I met online. They looked good on their online profiles, but in real life they were well below my pay grade. The Korean has a serious case of snaggletooth. I feared kissing her would lead to bloodbath as she gum-fucked me with her mighty tusks. And the Russian: she was the most boring, non-sexual robot I’ve met in my life. Her photo cunningly disguised the fact that she was carrying a few extra pounds, too. After my second drink, I couldn’t stand to be another second in her company, so I bolted.
‘No way,’ I told myself. ‘I’m going to remember my 50th flag, so she’s got to be hot.’
As such, the only ‘strange’ I experienced during September was a Mexican chick I picked up outside a bar one night. Unfortunately, she was painfully bad in the sack.
Fast forward to Thursday when I’ve arrived here in Stockholm, Sweden: a poosy paradise brimming with loose Viking wenches dying for some pirate loving.
On our pillaging spree Friday, my catch of the day was a young, slim, sexy, mixed race Swedish-Caribbean girl. It was worth the wait. I gave up porn several months ago and I purposely became celibate a 4 days before the trip to maximize my testosterone levels for the weekend. And let me tell you, sinking my sword into that beautiful nubile was so utterly glorious, I got high off it. I pumped a wicked helping of my love juice deep inside her, my boys invading their 50th country in style.
So, what now?
Is 50 flags enough? When will I be content? I don’t really mind so much any more. 50 is enough for any man. The truth is flagging had a dichotomous effect on my sex life.
The are a few negatives. When you start to pass up 8s and 9s for 6s and 7s just because of a new flag, you know something is askew. As soon as a girl tells me she’s from a country where I have already captured the flag, my interest plummets. What’s with that? Sex starts to feel more like a sport. A new flag is like a competitive match, while the rest are like boring friendlies to fill the time. Another notch…big deal. Who cares?
But the positives far out weight the negatives. When you travel to a new country, hooking up with local often leads to richer cultural experience. You get to know a country in a way that no package tour can ever offer. But the main positive is this: I’m living a fun life. Having sex with foreign women is what a men are put on this earth to do. Flagging is the manifestation of genetic diversification in all it’s glory. And you know what? It’s feels bloody good.
Genghis Khan and Alexander the Great had to build vast empires and fight many wars in order to pillage vaginas as man’s farthest frontier. For the modern man, all he needs is a plane ticket and a little game.
Anyway, it’s back to business for me. I posted when I got 40 flags in June last year, so here is a recap of the ten latest newbies to make the list.
Slán leat amigos.
The latest 10
The rest in alphabetical order…