She appeared at the hostel where I was staying – a mixed German/Turkish girl who was visiting her SJW Canadian friend (who incidentally, was a ‘broken’ woman in my opinion). I noticed a few IOIs and made some trivial conversation that night.
On the Tuesday I made my way to Marienplatz to meet with a few friends I had made in the hostel – two Canadians and an American. After climbing down one of the bell towers, I discovered her and the Canadian SJW at the bottom conversing with the group.
We made our way around Munich – the Hofbrauhaus for lunch, the English Garden, an odd surfing spot on the river and then a subsequent dip downriver.
I had made a few flirty comments about her not wearing any underwear and received the telltale punch on the shoulder – the classic Tease Punch.
Her Italian/German friend from Napoli joined us – La Napolitana. She and I immediately connected.
Later than evening we played a drinking game (I mean seriously, at 38?!) which included Never Have I Ever. The object of the game is to admit to something you have not done and if someone else in the group has done it, then then need to lower a finger.
I admitted to many more things than almost anybody else at the table. The American, observing Brunnhilde, noticed that she and I both lowered a finger when the challenge was set around “wanting to sleep with someone at the table”. It was clear.
Texting was quite hot between us after Brunnhilde left – I joked that she and I needed to come up with a new Never Have I Ever challenge just for the two of us.
We met for dinner the next day with the SJW and La Napolitana – and the vibe was quite simply DEAD between us.
Blue Balls #1.
Given that the connection was dead between Brunnhilde and I, I then started working on La Napolitana who was sitting across from me at the table.
She was very sweet, 24, K-selected, and the product of migrant parents from Napoli. Her father was a musician and I showed her a number of videos of my performances in Sydney. She seemed like she wanted to express herself artistically, yet her father had warned to not pursue art.
To me she was K-selected and sheltered in much the same way children of ethnic parents are sheltered in Australia – some follow the rules, others rebel against them.
The conversation was warm over dinner between us. The SJW threw in a baiting comment about how difficult it was for single mothers – and much to my chagrin, I just lost it and told her she was wrong. I talked about male suicides of men who lose access to their children, of my father’s story taking care of two children on his own, and how I measured a person based on their needs and not their gender.
(The SJW irked me – she had said that most of the sex in her life was “non-consensual”. I balked and told her that was a joke – more like non-responsibility. I had interviewed women who were the subject of rape in war crime situations and this SJW was simply trying to distance herself from drunk hookups).
Oddly, at the end of my rant – citing my work, my situation and how the SJW simply was wrong – La Napolitana got up and gave me a hug. It was very unusual.
Later we went for coffee and shishas. She was curios about my short erotic fiction that I was writing (really just fictionalised accounts of women I’ve fucked with a classic arc that engages a woman’s psychological core).
She told me about an American she was dating who had one day simply told her he did not want the relationship and then disappeared. “I know he loves me,” she said. “I wanted to get married”. My thoughts were mixed – he sounded like a case of catch-and-release who made a wise decision rather than fuck with a girl’s life (I wish I had).
Her relationships had been rollercoasters and she confided that she secretly enjoyed the ride. Patterns in relationships is a tell.
Later, at the hostel, Brunnhilde and the SJW left, encouraging me to make sure La Napolitana got home safely. She and I chatted for quite awhile about preparing for marathons, Strawberry Fields (predictable), and where the life journey would take us.
I dropped her back to the main station and made my move – which she rejected. She then reached out for a hug which was like a wall of unexpected affection. She left me with a kiss on the cheek.
The next day I sent her a farewell text and wished that we had had more time to pursue the connection. She wrote back: “I did not want to pursue the connection any more than what we did”.
I was gutted.
I took the unusual step of writing back to her and asking her to delete my number – I find it difficult to stay in contact with girls with whom I have developed an affectionate connection but who do not want any more. I told her I was the sex and adventure guy and liked to feel “love, affection and sex” with girls I like. I had to CUT.
I reflected on this girl all last night and today. I think I was needing affection more than sex and she must have sensed that. I definitely know that I was not suffering from a “failure to feel”.
But in the end we are not owed sex as men. I know it’s a projection but it genuinely feels like she wasted my time as my needs were too high for what she could give.
A great Reference Experience.
Blue Balls #2
Many thanks to Nash (https://daysofgame.com) for his guidance and support with La Napolitana.