Luck of the Irish? WTF
An Irish cousin (who I’d never met) and his two Irish buddies came through Arequipa for the weekend. I met Simon’s father, who comes to St. Louis every few years, when I was 12. He was in St. Louis just before I moved to Peru. He told me his son, Simon, was going on a three-month adventure through South America. I met Simon for the first time when he came to Arequipa with Gavin and Clive. By the end of the weekend, I had lost my primary girlfriend, my telephone, and my apartment. Luck of the Irish? What the fuck!
The guys got in Saturday morning. I met them around noon and we ate ceviche. The local AIESEC chapter was holding a global village at Plaza Vea. I cooked meat loaf and they turned out an Irish stew in about forty five minutes (half of the time needed for each). Our dishes were popular and ran out quickly. Then they went back to their hostel to get ready for the evening.
Besides Rosa, I’d started dating two other girls. It’s hard to make time with my busy schedule. I had tentative plans to hang out with Anita, but decided that I wanted to get wasted and chase other women with the Irish. I was ignoring her calls all day. I accidentally answered while the Irish were getting ready at their hostel. She said she was downtown and that she is coming over to my apartment right now (dammit!). I jumped in the shower.
Nicolas let her in and, after putting on gym shorts and a t-shirt, I found her doing the dishes. I told her to stop and come sit with me on the couch, where we started to make out and feel each other up. She was worried Nicolas would see us so I took her to my room and we had sex. I correctly predicted last week that this one wouldn’t take long. She tried to put the brakes on things after I had each of our shirts off. But I persisted with those things she likes so much and she succumbed to the pleasure – “Apaga la luz.”
Anita is not as beautiful as my usual but has big boobs on a slim body. And she’s pretty freaky. We laid in bed as she carressed me and lightly sucked away on my neck. I heard the front door open and close. I thought it was Maryanne and Nicolas coming back from dinner. I forgot about the noise and continued to enjoy Anita’s hand and mouth.
Not two minutes after the noise, I heard the doorbell, which would be the Irish. I jumped up and got dressed. Anita casually started to get dressed. I opened my door and saw Beto’s parents, who frequently come to the apartment unannounced with their own key, at the bottom of the stairs. They’ve only met Rosa. I turned around and told Anita not to come out. I ran outside and downstairs while contemplating the situation. I met Simon and Gavin at the door and told them the story.
Beto’s family is weird. Months ago, after a night when his mom came over while I was cuddling with Rosa, Beto told me that his mom doesn’t approve of having girls in the bedrooms. I didn’t argue with him but decided that if he brings it up again. I’d tell him I don’t care. I am a grown-ass man and I pay rent. I didn’t join a bible study organization or take a job in an Islamic law country. I didn’t join the military or get sent to prison. I’m going to have girls in my bed.
Outside, I developed a plan with Simon and Gavin to ditch Anita before going to Tradición.
I took the Irish in the apartment and introduced them to Beto’s dad in the kitchen. Then I went upstairs to see how Anita was doing in my room. She was dressed and folding my dirty laundry. She told me that Beto’s mom saw her and seemed mad. We made the walk of shame downstairs. Beto’s mom was at the ironing board in the master bedroom behind a window facing my room. She told me she wanted to talk to me. Anita joined the Irish downstairs in the kitchen and I joined Beto’s parents in Nicolas’ room.
Beto’s mom told me she’s angry with me. She said this is not a ‘hotel’. She said I can’t have ‘various women’ in my room. She said she only wanted guests in the living room. She said this is a ‘house of respect’. I nodded and nodded and thought to myself “I am moving out.” Luck of the Irish?
I’ve stated in this blog that Peruvian culture is more conservative. Women don’t move out until they’re married and having sex in the family house is a bit taboo. However, I’m not their son and I pay rent for my room. There are legal ramifications of a landlord frequently showing up unannounced with a key. As it is in industrialized countries, this is very illegal here. Anita, who is a lawyer, confirmed this. I don’t plan to make any trouble or drama. I’m just going to get my own place where I can have as many female guests as are willing and time allows.
So I joined the Irish and Anita downstairs as the parents left. As stated earlier, I didn’t want Anita with me at Tradición because I wanted to chase other women and drink with the Irish. Plus, Arequipa is a small city and even smaller when you consider the bar scene where educated people with money go, because there aren’t that many educated people with money. The only time I went to Tradicion without Rosa, a friend of hers called her to tell her I was there. I always run into her friends and never recognize them.
So I told the Irish my plan to ditch Anita when we were outside. The plan was to start pounding beer and anisado and get obnoxiously drunk to the point where she wouldn’t want to come with us. Or, she wouldn’t want to come because we’d be leaving so late and she might have to get home to her daughter. That was the best idea I could come up with while all this stuff was going on.
The Irish agreed to go along with the plan. We got a case of beer at the liquor store and I already had two bottles of anisado. Nicolas and Maryanne were at the apartment when we returned. Then Roy came over. I told them the plan and to not mention the word “Tradicion” until Anita left, even though we were speaking in English.
The Irish and I started to get wasted according to plan. Anita washed the dishes. Clive told her to stop and join us. I told him to be quiet unless he was going to do the dishes.
I told everybody the story with the parents and that I was moving out. Everybody laughed and sympathized with me. Nicolas said he was moving out too. He was justifiably pissed they went in his room. They don’t go in my room because the only things in there are Beto’s and Jose Miguel’s childhood toys, but much of their stuff is in the master bedroom. If they did go into my room, they could be appalled and I could be embarrassed by what they would see: bloody condoms, balled up tissue encrusted with semen littered on the ground, stank sweat socks and gym clothes, general mess, etc. There are serious privacy issues in this household and Nicolas is not a happy camper.
The Irish and I finished the case of beer and anisado. We were drunk. Unfortunately, Anita was not deterred at all from going out with us. My plan failed. However, I was so pissy drunk after carrying out the plan that I didn’t care about any potential consequences. The Irish, the roommates, Anita, Roy and I left for Tradicion around midnight.
We got wasted on the patio before venturing inside to the dancefloor. Within four steps of walking inside, I ran into Maria – Rosa’s best friend from high school. Well, that was fast. Luck of the Irish? I probably could’ve contained the damage, but I was so drunk I didn’t recognize Maria when she greeted me. I got her name wrong and mistook her for somebody else. She had to tell me who she was. I walked away without kissing her cheek and danced with Anita, occasionally making out in the middle of the dance floor. I was really drunk.
Later, I ran into Anita’s ex-husband and baby’s father. Luck of the Irish? He actually greeted me. He probably thinks gringos are cool. But then he saw I was with Anita and probably felt stupid.
Anita went home around 3 while the rest of us went to a house party of AIESECers. Clive picked up a Peruvian girl and made out with her in another room. Nicolas and I left around 6, arriving at the apartment at 6:30am. The Irish stayed at the party until 8. Simon and Gavin told me that Clive threw up at the party, in the taxi, outside of their hostel, and in the toilet. Then he went to sleep on the toilet for an hour or so before returning to his bed and throwing up there as well.
I heard the bell ring around 11am. I smiled, assuming the Irish came over. Nicolas knocked on my door and told me Rosa was outside. Luck of the Irish?
Rosa has never come over unannounced. I painfully limped downstairs, dreading the inevitable. She told me she wanted her camera’s memory card (I still had it for the Colca pics) and the money for two months of phone service which she paid for me.
We walked up to the apartment without saying anything. I gave it all to her. Nicolas and Maryanne had the misfortune of being in the kitchen. Rosa told me she knows about last night. “Obviamente,” I replied. She told me she wanted the SIM card from my phone (her SIM card she gave me). I told her no. She raised her voice. I told her no.
She ran upstairs and locked herself in my room. After realizing the phone wasn’t in there, she let me in and closed the door. She started yelling and calling me names: perro and pendejo. I told her she couldn’t have the SIM because I had family in town and they needed to call me. She wouldn’t leave without the card.
Unfortunately, I’m a nice guy and I started to feel bad for her and what I did. I wish I didn’t have feelings. I also wanted her to leave because I was so hung over. I gave her the SIM and regretted it all day long. That had all my phone numbers, including Anita’s and Sonia’s. Luck of the Irish?
After Rosa left, I decided to find the Irish before they woke up since they couldn’t call me. I didn’t know the name of their hostel nor where it was. For about ten seconds on Saturday, I glanced at Simon’s map that the hostel gave him so I had a general idea where it might be. I walked around for over an hour before I found it. The Irish were still sleeping around 1pm.
I told them the story. They laughed. I decided that, to celebrate my being single, I should bang a prostitute that night. Simon had read the Amanecer blog and was curious to see the place but not interested in paying for sex.
Around 10pm, Simon, Gavin, Roy, Nicolas, Maryanne, this British guy from the hostel named Nick, and I started drinking Fernet and Coke at my apartment. (I love Fernet and I asked Simon to bring me some from Argentina.) We got buzzed up at the apartment and went to Deja Vu.
We got a table upstairs and talked for an hour or so. There were so many hot bricheras downstairs that I had to dance. Two hot ones approached me and introduced themselves. Some gringos joined me and we started to dance. One of them was absolutely smoking hot. Slim, hard body with a flat stomach and big boobs. Her face was immaculately gorgeous. Her skin was soft and silky. A girl this beautiful would never talk to me in America, much less take a liking to me. She rubbed my arms, shoulders and actually felt me up under my shirt. We danced for a few songs.
These two lived in Lima and it was their last night in Arequipa. Despite her being so hot, I concluded that they just wanted to dance and would go back to their hostel without us at the end of the night. I didn’t want to invest too much time or effort chasing these two when I can definitely get laid at the whorehouse and still be in bed by 3am. I told her we were leaving and she got mad – in a cute way. I told her we had to work in the morning. Nick, Roy, and Maryanne stayed at Deja Vu while Simon, Gavin, Nicolas and I headed to Amanecer.
Until now, I’ve steered clear of bricheras. From what I’ve heard, their motivations are shallow. The ones I’ve met seem too easy. Now I am having second thoughts. This brichera was HOT. I should enjoy something like that once or twice in my life. I can imagine all the problems that would come with her from constantly being chased by other men to having a spoiled mentality because men have always given them whatever they want. However, I think I might find something like that to enjoy for a few weeks or so. As I said, immaculate.
When we got out of the taxi in front of Amanecer, we saw a security guard dressed in an all black uniform (like SWAT) with a black ski mask and a baton on his hip. He was yelling and pushing and hitting a group of degenerates, scoundrels, and losers who were hanging around and being ugly on the sidewalk. When he saw me, he pulled down part of the mask so I could see his face. ”What’s up, man?” he said with a thick accent but good English. He told me he lived in Jersey for a while. “Are you going to go fuck a bitch?” I told him I probably would. He approved.
We got a table, ordered beers and looked around. This was a first for the other guys. One woman kept catching my eye. I bought her a drink and she sat on my lap. She was huge. She must have weighed at least 150 lbs, maybe 160. All boobs and butt. Her boobs were just falling all over the place. Her butt was big and firm. Her whole body was firm with soft, smooth skin. She had a brickhouse thick body useful for nothing else than extracting ejaculate, more boobs and butt than everything else combined.
After we did what we do, I rejoined the table. Gavin bought a girl a drink. He joked with her and showed her pictures from their South American voyage. Simon could sense that I was ready for bed and asked me if I wanted to leave. And the conversation went something like this:
Simon: Are you ready to go?
Me: Yeah, but I don’t want to rush Gavin.
Simon: He can be ready.
Me: What if he wants to have sex with this one?
Simon: He doesn’t.
Me: How do you know? Did you ask him?
Simon: He’s gay.
Me: Oh.
Interesting, surprising end to the weekend. We left. Outside, the security guard was still yelling at the degenerates and running the sidewalk. He saw me and pulled his mask down again. “All these guys,” he proclaimed, ”suck my fucking dick!” I told him I wanted a safe taxi. He led us to the first taxi on the curb and we said goodbye.
I still can’t believe how much my life has changed after the Irish and their bad luck came to town. In less than two days, I lost my primary girlfriend, my phone and all the numbers, and my apartment. But I guess it was fun in the process.
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That was one hell of a story, very authentic peruvian night out on the town.
Cheers.
Hope to hear many more.