Lets forget about that last wibbly post for a minute and get back to some debaucherous details. And let's talk about how either I've gone into a warp of coincidences or, despite moving to a bigger city, my sex social circle has some how shrunk...
See... I was out with Charlotte tonight (note: it's a thursday) and her "work event" turned into a full on night out and somewhere between the dancing on tables and enjoying the free bottle service I looked up and in the haze of flashing neon lights and fog I see Nathaniel.
I shit you not.
How is it that I went through 5 YEARS of manhattan whoring and only ran into my men a handful of times but here, in a much bigger city, I run into him a week later?
Lemme paint you a little picture so you understand just how ridiculous this is; in New York I went to, maybe, 3 bars on the regular. I had a pretty steady routine. Which meant that my odds of running into people that I picked up in bars was extremely high. But I never really did. I mean if it wasn't for my work hookups and the fact that Shiv's coworker kept dragging EMT guy around (I never did remember his name) I wouldn't have ever seen any of them!
Either I was spoiled and led to believe in unrealistic odds or this is a fluke.
Because I wasn't in the same bar, on the same night as before. No. I was half an hour across town in a club, not a bar, on a thursday for a work event! So yeah, I was a little surprised when Mr. Fancypants Nathaniel showed up in his perfectly pressed white button down and Armani jeans.
Damn that boy can dress.
Anyways. I see him, he doesn't see me. Which is good because I haven't managed to find a hair straightener here in the UK yet and my make up was subpar at best. So I'm pleased. But I'm still raging on the dance floor so it's not long before he has seen me.
Bad hair and makeup and all.
But I'm looking pretty decent in my LBD and nude pumps so at least I have that going for me. And then suddenly I'm back in middle school at the awkward dance and I'm jamming with my girl Charlotte and he's sort of half leaning on the DJ booth, half shuffling from side to side.
On opposite sides of the dance floor.
Like children.
Oh wait. He is a child. Well there's his excuse. And I will use vodka as mine. Because other than some, what I am told is, superb lip biting and sexy eyes-from-across-the-room moves I made no effort to actually go say hi or try to, I dunno, dance together.
What a concept.
So I guess the moral of the story is that as far as sex and vodka go, we're all still in middle school.
Oh.. and London is way to fucking small.
xxKK
Showing posts with label Nathaniel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nathaniel. Show all posts
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
ON POPPING MY BRITISH CHERRY
So now that I've finished my rant about women having the right do to whatever the fuck they want with their vaginas I decided to go out for a rage and.. well.. do whatever the fuck I wanted with my vagina.
So I met up with my london gal pal and partner in crime, Charlotte, and we headed out into the night equipped with our wedges, lipgloss and predrink buzz.
We ended up at this bar that mostly smelt like vomit with potent drinks (hence the vomit smell) and an... erratic DJ.
Seriously I have to assume this guy was trippin balls on ritalin laced with acid because his music selection was just.. impossible. We're talking savage garden followed by old school beastie boys then backstreet boys then just compilations of lasers and dying animals.
And the crowd was loving it! There was some serious raging going on on the dance floor.
At first I felt that I was a littttle out of my element. But then I said fuck it, theres booze, how out of my element could I be?
3 hours later we were smashed, had lost 5 of the 7 people we'd arrived with and were ready to crawl back home. Charlotte stopped to bum a ciggy off of some fine gentleman from Australia and that's when I met him.
His name is Nathaniel.
Nathaniel.
Seriously?
I must be in England because that's a fancy ass name. And he looked fancy to match it. Despite the messy sort of night we'd had and the messy sort of bar we were in, Nathaniel was still perfectly pressed in a crisp white shirt that was tucked into jeans that cost more than my monthly rent. And don't even get me started on his perfect fucking face.
Needless to say we did not go home and get into our jammies like good girls should, noooo, we stayed and had more drinks and then when we were really tired we went back to Charlottes house and had a few more drinks.
That's about the time that Nathaniel, in very polite and proper fashion, invited me home with him.
Well. It's gotta happen some time and if I have to pick someone to pop my British cherry with I'm gonna take a guy that looks like he belongs in a magazine.
So we head off and we're chatting and then it slips out. He's a bit younger than me. I think, not a big deal, if you remember I just had Giles, the 20 year old, back home. Young is clearly not a problem for me.
No biggie.
So we get home and have some really glorious sex. This was not a Giles re-do, this kid knew exactly what he was doing.
*sigh*
The sad thing about great sex is that it always has to come to an end.
Which it did. But in the morning I got to have round 2,3 and 4. So I guess I can't really complain ;)
And in the morning we're lying there in post-mind-blowing-sex glory and we start chatting some more and I'm being nosy and looking around his immaculate room in his immaculate apartment and I spy a yearbook.
I love yearbooks (I was editor in chief of mine) so I grab it to leaf through and look at what a fancy English boarding school looks like when I catch sight of something terrifying.
"2012"
....
It's printed across the front of the yearbook in great big golden letters.
So, trying not to have a full freak out, I casually ask "is this yours?"
He tells me yes, and I say "but it says 2012" and he says "yeah. I graduated in June."
As in.. June 2012. As in this past June. As in the kid I just spent hours having sex with was graduating high school a year after I graduated from college.
This prompted a litttttle bit of a freak out which led to him telling me that it's fine... he's old for his year, he's been 19 for ages.
Somehow that just didn't make me feel better.
Anyways, on that horrifying note I found it was about that time to put my pants back on and crawl back to Charlottes so that I could try to sleep away some of the shame.
Naps had no effect unfortunately.
Once I made it home and had brushed out the sex-induced knots in my hair and told the story to a few friends it didn't seem so bad and now I'm basically over the shock and into the phase where I pat myself on the back for pulling a hot guy who's actually awesome in bed.
Good job Kitty. Good to know the move hasn't hurt your game. If anything, in fact, it seems to have upped your skillz. I'm slightly more confident now. Still need to get a job and figure out all this relocation stuff but hey, at least I've got one thing down pat.
xxKK
So I met up with my london gal pal and partner in crime, Charlotte, and we headed out into the night equipped with our wedges, lipgloss and predrink buzz.
We ended up at this bar that mostly smelt like vomit with potent drinks (hence the vomit smell) and an... erratic DJ.
Seriously I have to assume this guy was trippin balls on ritalin laced with acid because his music selection was just.. impossible. We're talking savage garden followed by old school beastie boys then backstreet boys then just compilations of lasers and dying animals.
And the crowd was loving it! There was some serious raging going on on the dance floor.
At first I felt that I was a littttle out of my element. But then I said fuck it, theres booze, how out of my element could I be?
3 hours later we were smashed, had lost 5 of the 7 people we'd arrived with and were ready to crawl back home. Charlotte stopped to bum a ciggy off of some fine gentleman from Australia and that's when I met him.
His name is Nathaniel.
Nathaniel.
Seriously?
I must be in England because that's a fancy ass name. And he looked fancy to match it. Despite the messy sort of night we'd had and the messy sort of bar we were in, Nathaniel was still perfectly pressed in a crisp white shirt that was tucked into jeans that cost more than my monthly rent. And don't even get me started on his perfect fucking face.
Needless to say we did not go home and get into our jammies like good girls should, noooo, we stayed and had more drinks and then when we were really tired we went back to Charlottes house and had a few more drinks.
That's about the time that Nathaniel, in very polite and proper fashion, invited me home with him.
Well. It's gotta happen some time and if I have to pick someone to pop my British cherry with I'm gonna take a guy that looks like he belongs in a magazine.
So we head off and we're chatting and then it slips out. He's a bit younger than me. I think, not a big deal, if you remember I just had Giles, the 20 year old, back home. Young is clearly not a problem for me.
No biggie.
So we get home and have some really glorious sex. This was not a Giles re-do, this kid knew exactly what he was doing.
*sigh*
The sad thing about great sex is that it always has to come to an end.
Which it did. But in the morning I got to have round 2,3 and 4. So I guess I can't really complain ;)
And in the morning we're lying there in post-mind-blowing-sex glory and we start chatting some more and I'm being nosy and looking around his immaculate room in his immaculate apartment and I spy a yearbook.
I love yearbooks (I was editor in chief of mine) so I grab it to leaf through and look at what a fancy English boarding school looks like when I catch sight of something terrifying.
"2012"
....
It's printed across the front of the yearbook in great big golden letters.
So, trying not to have a full freak out, I casually ask "is this yours?"
He tells me yes, and I say "but it says 2012" and he says "yeah. I graduated in June."
As in.. June 2012. As in this past June. As in the kid I just spent hours having sex with was graduating high school a year after I graduated from college.
This prompted a litttttle bit of a freak out which led to him telling me that it's fine... he's old for his year, he's been 19 for ages.
Somehow that just didn't make me feel better.
Anyways, on that horrifying note I found it was about that time to put my pants back on and crawl back to Charlottes so that I could try to sleep away some of the shame.
Naps had no effect unfortunately.
Once I made it home and had brushed out the sex-induced knots in my hair and told the story to a few friends it didn't seem so bad and now I'm basically over the shock and into the phase where I pat myself on the back for pulling a hot guy who's actually awesome in bed.
Good job Kitty. Good to know the move hasn't hurt your game. If anything, in fact, it seems to have upped your skillz. I'm slightly more confident now. Still need to get a job and figure out all this relocation stuff but hey, at least I've got one thing down pat.
xxKK
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