The plan was to write and to finish a painting but once again nothing much was happening. I don’t know what the fuck is going on lately. The weather looked fine though. The sun was shining, which always turns me on. High time to leave the apartment.
Sorry guys, I hate to break the news to you but if you can’t get laid in Bucharest, there’s definitely something wrong with you. I would recommend professional help. No offense.
Let’s go hunting
When I spot a new beauty on the street I always pretend to be a tourist. It’s harmless and in a way it’s true. Not in the least because I never fit in and because I don’t have any sense of direction. So I get lost very easily. (That’s why I always take the same route when I need to be somewhere on time.)
“Actually I know the place. They serve excellent coffee. It’s not far. You are pretty close,” she said after I had to answer a bunch of questions.
Where are you from? What are you doing here? How do you like Romania so far? Don’t you have data on your mobile phone so you can use Maps? And so on.
“Great,” I said. “So why don’t you join me? I mean: you don’t seem to be in a hurry and it’s nice chatting to you.”
Whoever speaks first, loses.
“Alright,” she said, “maybe I have time for one coffee.”
A few drinks and a dessert later
“I’m happy you talked me into this. You seem like an interesting man. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Thank you,” I said. “But shouldn’t I be giving you a compliment? You do realize you are beautiful, don’t you?”
“No I don’t. You’re such a gentleman.”
“Am I? I only opened the door for you so I could check out your ass.”
She laughed. “Are you trying to scare me away?”
“On the contrary,” I said. “I’m just being honest.”
“So… Did you like what you see?”
“I am still here, aren’t I?”