Kiss and tell, part 2

Read part 1

When I saw Ashley again with the other Icelanders last Saturday, I did not even say Hi.  I just went over to Már, chatted him up and waited with them for the Pride parade.  I'm like that.  If I know that someone is not into me, I don't waste time throwing myself onto that person.  Even if he's cute and articulate.

It was late afternoon when I told Már that I will be going home in a bit.  My back hurt and I needed to grab some dinner before going back to the city to socialize.  I have resolved to go out every night of the Gay Pride parade because the gay street, Studiestræde, becomes closed for a street party.

Studiestræde by Google Maps

After having dinner, I left the house.  I was on my way to Studiestræde when my friend called me again.  She said she was still stuck in the office.  She doesn't know when she'd be out so she declared that she won't be able to join me at all and was I upset?  I said No.  Even if we have been planning our lives for this day for weeks now and she bailed out on me on the day itself. 

Later that night I realized, sometimes it's good when things don't go according to plan.

So I hung out again with the Icelanders.  From about a dozen that day, I arrived at Masken, one of the oldest gay bars in Denmark, to only see about three, with Már being incredibly drunk.  Great, I thought.  My friend is drunk and I'm not even close to these other two.

I texted a Danish acquaintance of mine, a chef, because I wanted to see him again.  He was at work and will be off at around 12 midnight.  It was just 10 pm when I texted him.  Great, I thought again.  I'd have to wait for two hours.

What I didn't expect was Már turns into a completely different person when drunk.  He becomes loud, talks a lot, speaks fluent Danish, and makes out with whoever he fancies.  I thought he was really funny to watch, so I sat down in one of the benches under the green umbrellas and decided to stay.  I'm glad I did.

Picture from that night courtesy of my Icelandic friend

A few minutes later, Ashley arrived.  "Where are the others?" he asked.

"Oh I think they are at Jailhouse [another gay club].  The other one came over here asking Már to join him."

"Let's go to Jailhouse.  Come," he told me.  In my mind I was like, "Uhm, OK?"

On our way to Jailhouse, I saw Ashley being checked out by a guy. I think he reciprocated because he told me, "I just flirted with a guy on the street.  I've never done that before."

I laughed a little laugh.

When we were near Jailhouse, I was approached by a Middle Eastern-looking guy.  The guy asked me something in Danish but I didn't get it and probably looked confused, so the woman beside him asked me, "Do you think that guy is hot?"

"Who?  I'm sorry what is this?"

"You are [my username] on boyfriend.dk, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think that guy over there is hot?  Do you like him?" the woman pointed to a short, stubbly guy standing on a stool.  I recognized him as one of my "online stalkers".  He likes Asians but unfortunately, he's too short for me.

"Sorry, he's not my type.  He's a bit on the short side."

We left and proceeded to go to Jailhouse.  Ashley said, "You're quite famous! People recognize you by your Boyfriend username."

I just smiled and shrugged.

We didn't find any Icelander on Jailhouse.  So we decided to go back to Masken.  The rest of the Icelanders are back including Ashley's best friend.  Let's call him Redford.  "Hey, there's Redford," I told Ashley, pointing to Redford who was standing in front of the bar that was set up on the sidewalk.  I thought he heard me but when I saw that he was still following me when I decided to go inside Masken to go to the toilet, someone bumped on him and spilled some beer on his arm.

"Oh I'm sorry, I thought you heard me.  I told you Redford was over there," I told him, pointing again to Redford.

"That's OK.  That's OK," he said, wiping the beer off his arms and then proceeding to go to where Redford is.

I had in my hand a second round of vodka sprite when I went back out on the street.  More people were milling in front of Masken.  That night I was wearing my white shirt that says, "I'M A FREE BITCH, BABY" in neon pink.  Már, still very drunk, asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Lady Gaga," I said.

"Rah rah ah ah ah!" he started and soon the other drunk Icelanders followed.  At one point Már tickled my sides, leading me to spill my drink onto a guy seated in one of the benches.  The guy held my arm and playfully spanked me for misbehaving.  I chatted up guys who just arrived in our little "group area" on the street, in front of Masken.  I never had such an enjoyable night out in my life.

All the while there was Ashley that, for some reason, always ended up beside me.  Sometimes I would catch him staring at me for a few seconds.  He had been relatively quiet that night and I thought he wanted to chat a bit.  Or maybe he had a problem he wanted to discuss.  So I'd smile and ask, "What?"  Sometimes he'd just shake his head.  Sometimes he'd say, "Nothing".

When I looked at my phone it was fifteen minutes before midnight.  Fifteen minutes before I meet the Danish chef.  I am now drinking from my third cup filled with vodka and Coke but I'm not yet drunk.  I was talking to Már when he spotted a guy wearing a black shirt and floral, Hawaiian-style necklace.  "That guy is cute," he said, then proceeded to walk over to the guy.  I was left with Ashley.

"You're pretty quiet tonight," I told Ashley.

"Yeah.  I'm not liking the crowd so much.  Maybe I will go home in a bit."

"OK."

When I looked for Már again, I saw that he was already making out with the guy in black shirt.

"Wow, they're really going at it," I told Ashley.  We both laughed.  He put his empty cup on a table.  I was under one green umbrella so when someone bumped into the umbrella, one of its edges dipped between our faces.  When the umbrella went back up again, I saw him still smiling.

He was not much taller than me so our faces are almost on the same level.  When I saw that his eyes became slightly closed, his mouth slightly ajar and pouted and his head moving towards me, I thought, "Oh my g-d he's going to kiss me!"

And he did.  His mouth tasted of beer.  I never liked beer but I realized that night I like the taste of it on a guy's mouth when I am kissing him.  My arms were on his shoulders but on my left hand was my drink and the other hand had my bag.  Ashley was a good kisser.

I've never had anyone kiss me whenever I go drinking or clubbing downtown.  I always end up feeling lonely and unattractive because of that.  But this night I am making out with a cute, Icelandic boy.  And we are not in a club.  We are on the street and there are plenty of people that can see us.

We paused for a moment and I put my half-empty cup on a table.  Then our hands were on each other's hips and our foreheads and noses were against each other and then my chin was on his shoulder and he was kissing my neck and then we returned to kissing each other on the lips.

When we stopped kissing, I looked around and saw that two Icelanders were looking at us, one was a guy I know and another his girl friend and she said, "Get a room!"  Then she laughed.  I smiled.

"Why are you always speaking in English?" asked Ashley, holding my hand.

"Because I'm not so good in Danish," I said.  "Would you like me to speak in Danish?"

"No that's fine.  English is fine."

When we hugged, I whispered to him, "I thought you didn't like me."

"I've been wanting you for a long time," said Ashley.

"That's bullshit," Már said the next day when I told him about it.  But when Ashley said that to me, I didn't think it was bullshit.  I thought it was flattering and I felt oh so beautiful that night.

"Would you like to take me home?" he asked.

"Sure!" I said.

On our way to get a cab, I looked at him said, "You're so cute."

"I know," he said.

"And you're conceited, too!"

We both laughed.

I texted the Danish chef, "Went home with a guy.  Sorry."

When we found a cab, I started to worry about the mess that is called my apartment.


To be continued...