Good loving is not always from the heart, You gotta be smart…

A little bit of an ramble on booty calling and why it’s nearly impossible to recruit and retain a booty call…

My decision to have sex with Ike the hippie Canadian on our second date made up in impulsiveness what it lacked in foresight and ladylike behaviour. The sex was stupendous so regret is out of the question. He texted a day later to ask when I was free and I, in all earnest, replied that thursday worked. To which he replied that he had something planned that evening but we could meet later in the night. Let me know if you want to meet there or you just want to wait for me in your boudoir, he said.

Wow, that escalated pretty quickly, how rapidly we devolved from dating to being fuck-buddies. It took me a second or two to consider and decide that what was on offer was worth taking up. I mean, he doesn’t have any long-term potential, he’s still not sure he will even live in Hong Kong for long (he’s looking for a job) but he’s lovely, incredibly funny, has a lot of time on his hands, isn’t threatened by me and did I mention the stupendous sex? I think I did, more than once, which incidentally is the number of times I…. never mind.

On Thursday night, I had two dates, so to speak. I met the teacher and his friend for a dull drink (how unfortunate that a drink with two hot black men is being described as dull). I escaped it quickly because I couldn’t take it anymore. The teacher seemed disappointed but I didn’t have any patience for his ADD (see what I did there?). I headed back home and texted the hippie to see if he wanted to have a drink with me (as we had planned).

And so we did, we went to 3 Monkeys on Hollywood Road. We were the only people there no dressed in suits. He was the only person looking grungy but credit to him, he paid for the drinks. We talked and we laughed so much. And we headed back to mine and had a fun romp again. His attentiveness to me was consistent –  on text, in the bar and in the boudoir. And I went to work full of energy, and flushed cheeks and a goofy “I had sex” smile.

He eagerly continued pursuing. He said he wanted to have a sleep in with me and have breakfast together rather than be kicked out in the morning as I headed to work. (Ha!) I couldn’t really – there’s only one weekend left till I head home for the holidays. And my weekend was choc-full of plans already. I offered Sunday late night after a dinner with friends from work.

On Saturday morning of course I changed this to a “let me know if you’re around Central”, a suggestion he welcomed. I felt encouraged.

“I will definitelymaybe ping you in that case”
“I like those odds”

I went dining, drinking and dancing with Shimpy and I was in a happy place. And then I invited the hippie to join Shimpy and her friends. He arrived. He was dressed in grungy jeans and a ratty black shirt and he was as funny as ever. He got on well with my friends and their friends. We got home at 3 am and had magnificent sex. And then twice again the next morning. And then I had to throw him out again because I had brunch plans. He is still giving me crap for not ever making him breakfast*.

*update from the future: no longer the case! I made him a lovely breakfast on Saturday morning.

So Sam and I hooked up on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights that week..afterhours, after other plans wound down. The following week, we hooked up on Wednesday and Thursday nights (and lunch in between too). It’s Friday as I write this and I already have plans to meet him tonight as well. The boy has become a habit. I might even make him breakfast tomorrow. That’s more sex than I’ve had in the entire second half of the year, maybe even the entire year but I don’t want to do the math to confirm/negate that hypothesis because it would make me look lame. So obviously, things are going swimmingly and I have finally recruited a booty call I think.

Except the booty call just took me ice-skating on Thursday night and held my hand as we (thanks to me) slowly and clumsily circled the rink. And bought me a burger beforehand. And is now holding my hand everywhere and kissing me once on the mouth to greet instead of twice on the cheeks. And is trying to find my most ticklish spots (even though his jokes alone are enough to make me laugh like there’s no tomorrow).

Like I said earlier, he confuses and terrifies me.


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