my very first seduction... Step One
No other object I have ever encountered in my life has changed my view of the world as much as The Art of Seduction. No, not even the copious amounts of alchohol, weed, coke, acid... shrooms... wait, am I forgetting anything? Oh yeah, Vicodin, Morphine, Nyquil, Tyrenol PM... good shit, really. Now that I'm a vicious man-eater (flash-back of graduation?...) life is much more fun. It's probably not the best idea to post something like this on a "public" space, but my current victim of seduction hardly speaks any English anyway, so here goes:
Last night, a rather debaucherous Saturday night, began pretty normal - hanging out with my-only-gay-friend Rico Suave, kicking back some beers at his place, planning a big drunken evening with one goal in mind: we were going to meet someone new. Believe it or not folks, I've been getting bored in Amsterdam. Very, very bored. It's like I'm in Oberlin, except it's much more expensive, everyone actually IS gay (and much taller than yours truely) and I'm literally the only asian person in Holland... anyway - so we ended up at the Arc, a posh gay bar that we always end up at because Rico and I - we're fairly unadventerous at the moment. The usual drinking and standing ensued.
The first crazy thing to happen was this kid from New Orleans, who messaged both Rico and I on Myspace saying he was coming to Amsterdam to study dance (gay, for sure) since his home got destroyed - well we ran into this kid at the fucking bar... he's 17 years old. For the first time in my life, I was not the baby gay boy in the room. Extreme jealousy? No, just perplexion. More about him later...
So I'm standing there with Rico, right? And like... there was this guy who looked like Frankenstein sitting by himself like, totally like... checking me out, right? And I was like, "Wait, no... um, EW! He looks like Frankenstein!" But when you're on a mission, none of that matters. Life as a secret agent/assassin/seducer is not about power, not vanity. So I returned the glances, which grew longer and more intense. And I eventually approached him with the confidence of a coke head (which I am not, by the way) and casually said, "hey, what's happening?"
And then he said something in some fucking language I couldn't recognize, and I was like, "Do you speak english? Cause ik spreekt niet Nederlands!" Yeah, smooth, huh... It turns out the place was just so loud I could hardly hear him, but I gave him my number - oh by the way, the coat check lady thinks my name is Prindan. So we was talking, and then he just stuck his tongue down my throat... and then I realized, he doesn't look like Frankenstein at all - it was just bad lighting. (Refer to corresponding Seinfeld episode 166. The Strike)
He's a Brazilian living here for over a year and a half for graduate school, age 25, a little bit of a belly, but mostly good-looking all around... and a sharp tongue. I followed him just outside the bar, where he assaulted me with his tongue again, and people were watching and his eyes were closed and mine were looking at everyone watching with disbelief. I grabbed his chin with one hand, pulled the leech out of my mouth, and just said, "call me," and walked off.
That, boys and girls, is what professionals call Step One.
Last night, a rather debaucherous Saturday night, began pretty normal - hanging out with my-only-gay-friend Rico Suave, kicking back some beers at his place, planning a big drunken evening with one goal in mind: we were going to meet someone new. Believe it or not folks, I've been getting bored in Amsterdam. Very, very bored. It's like I'm in Oberlin, except it's much more expensive, everyone actually IS gay (and much taller than yours truely) and I'm literally the only asian person in Holland... anyway - so we ended up at the Arc, a posh gay bar that we always end up at because Rico and I - we're fairly unadventerous at the moment. The usual drinking and standing ensued.
The first crazy thing to happen was this kid from New Orleans, who messaged both Rico and I on Myspace saying he was coming to Amsterdam to study dance (gay, for sure) since his home got destroyed - well we ran into this kid at the fucking bar... he's 17 years old. For the first time in my life, I was not the baby gay boy in the room. Extreme jealousy? No, just perplexion. More about him later...
So I'm standing there with Rico, right? And like... there was this guy who looked like Frankenstein sitting by himself like, totally like... checking me out, right? And I was like, "Wait, no... um, EW! He looks like Frankenstein!" But when you're on a mission, none of that matters. Life as a secret agent/assassin/seducer is not about power, not vanity. So I returned the glances, which grew longer and more intense. And I eventually approached him with the confidence of a coke head (which I am not, by the way) and casually said, "hey, what's happening?"
And then he said something in some fucking language I couldn't recognize, and I was like, "Do you speak english? Cause ik spreekt niet Nederlands!" Yeah, smooth, huh... It turns out the place was just so loud I could hardly hear him, but I gave him my number - oh by the way, the coat check lady thinks my name is Prindan. So we was talking, and then he just stuck his tongue down my throat... and then I realized, he doesn't look like Frankenstein at all - it was just bad lighting. (Refer to corresponding Seinfeld episode 166. The Strike)
He's a Brazilian living here for over a year and a half for graduate school, age 25, a little bit of a belly, but mostly good-looking all around... and a sharp tongue. I followed him just outside the bar, where he assaulted me with his tongue again, and people were watching and his eyes were closed and mine were looking at everyone watching with disbelief. I grabbed his chin with one hand, pulled the leech out of my mouth, and just said, "call me," and walked off.
That, boys and girls, is what professionals call Step One.
posted by Brndn at 4:25 AM
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