I really want to see one of our vets again. She’s the second Belgian I think I’ve met in my life and the first one was pretty hot as well (also owes me a bum massage -read the post Andy, where’s yer troosers) which tells us that all Belgians are hot and there might just be more to that country than Dr. Evil and Tintin.
The problem is I think I can only see her when a donkey gets smashed on the road. My way of thinking leads me to believe in a course of action that involves patrolling the country roads in search of a donkey to plough. Trouble with this is my mode of transport –bicycle-. My planed phone call of “Quick, I need a hot, blonde Belgian vet IMMEDIATELY”, might turn into a newspaper review of the Scottish guy ploughed by a donkey. I should just visit Belgium and be done with it.
Aruba would be kind to me where women are concerned. Now let’s be honest, what girl can really say no to the line “You want to come and feed my baby donkeys”?
I would become romantically involved with a hot girl from Surinam and things do seem to be going as every man dreams for almost a whole week.
Seeming happy enough with my honesty about only looking for a bit of fun due to my short time on the island, I thought I’d finally struck lucky and I had, but this God fearing, mother of four nanny would soon completely swamp me with phone calls and messages explaining that God had sent me to Aruba for her and that now she’d told her boss about me we’d better become more serious. Fuck this, I’ve known you one week, what’s it going to be like after six months?
Time to call it a day on what was a wonderful thing minus the Bible quotes and inability to understand the concept of me not being religious. She would continue this bombardment for the next few months and never in my life would I ever have imagined myself to be pissed off by a beautiful woman not taking no for an answer but there you have it. I have no opinion on the topic of religion and only know that whether there is or isn’t something up there, it won’t change a thing about the way I do things.
Never realised how much I love being single.
With much moving on from this brief and crazy relationship -on my part-, I answer the fit Colombian girl’s question of “You want fun with me and my friend, two girls 100 Floren” (£36). I turn, take her by the hand and lead her back inside the doorway that she stands on front. “Is this your room”?
She’s taken by surprise. “Really, you want both of us”?
Afterwards, I’m asked for my phone number by the fittest half of this hot Latin threesome, looking like the Voodoo girl from Pirates of the Caribbean (Tia Dalma). I don’t believe for one second that she’ll call and so I give her the number I’ve been using during my time here. Low and behold who would start calling the next day? My boss Desiree is going to go nuts when I hand her mobile back after my six months. Colombian babes and Surinam preachers galore. Let us hope I remember to delete past messages!
. . .
It was assumed that I did nothing during my free time on the island but nothing in-fact could be further from the truth. I just couldn’t be so forthcoming with how my time was being spent. Let us just say that I am single again by this point and I’ll spare you the grizzly details concerning eight Colombian hotties –all of which are ladies of the night or day even seeing as it’s cheaper when the suns up- including one that called herself Shakira. I have no doubt that her real name was not Shakira but I’m still claiming that one. Hardly Casanova then and no bragging rights to really shout about, not even a cheeky joke about being in two places at once, but I can truly say that I’ve lived now those boxes are filled. Sorry.
* Bragging? It’s hardly bragging when we know I have to pay for it but watch me backtrack like fuck the second I meet someone who’s worth all the shite..or just don’t tell her I have a blog!