Saturday night in Playa Del Carmen
January 9, 2012 13 Comments
I’m didn’t come to Mexico for game, quite unlike my last 18 months of trips which were unabashedly about hitting on the local birds. 2012 is my year of not giving a fuck about knobbing women. Sure, I’m still gonna open and still gonna close but for the first time in years I have a who-gives-a-fuck-I’m-a-man-and-everything-is-in-order tranquility that allows me to focus on other pursuits. There’s an interesting story about the dappy tarts Toe and I dated last night (we didn’t bang ‘em) and it begins when they didn’t show up at 8pm outside McDonalds for the Day 2. We agree to give them 15 minutes maximum before bailing and then I see a gorgeous girl go by. Perfect mix of youth, prettiness and not-overdone-hotness. So I open her. It sticks, so I decide the dappy tarts have missed their chance and I idate the new girl instead. Here’s the street open:
I haven’t bothered with editing the idate itself. It was routine stuff for an hour. She wants to meet again but time will tell. It’s not long till I go to Cuba and I’m far more interested in stockpiling a mountain of cheap Cuban cigars than I am about closing a bird, despite the fact she’s clearly my type. Wouldn’t turn it down, but I’m not in the mood for chasing girls when I could be swimming in the sea or breaking out my Rosetta Stone to learn Mexican.
After the date I meet Toe back at the hotel and we go out for a fine feast at Taco Loco (recommendation of a local hostel owner we’ve been drinking with). The dappy tarts get in touch making all manner of excuses then agree to come to our hotel bar. We sit playing Jenga and they do in fact show about 11pm all dolled-up like proper club tarts on their way to the BPM music festival. The chance of us going to a club district full of monotone screeching dance music is about the same as the chances of Burnley winning the league. We decline and let the girls go. They are in high spirits and a bit drunk despite having tottered on their high heels for 20 minutes to get to us. Toe and I decide to chill in the hotel room and wait for the late-night post-club text, if it comes. The decision seems binary: they get a better offer and we never hear from them, or they don’t and they come to our hotel for a nailing. Neither happens. Toe begins the light text game at 2am.
Toe: Pacifico or Victoria?
Girl: U guys have a bad attitude u shouldn’t talk like that. U think we r sluts we’re not. Stop harrassing us [I paraphrase]
Uh??? These girls had been texting us 3-to-1 for 24 hours. It’s an absolute non-sequitor. We hadn’t done the slightest escalation verbal or physical. Can only imagine its a classic case of projection because they are sluts. Whatever. I was sleepy so I went to sleep.