Links Awakening

The bandit is back. After dithering around for months getting back with my ex, then breaking up, then getting back together, then breaking up, I finally ended the thing with a coup-de-grace samurai style. The last I heard (and probably will ever hear) from her, “I never want to speak to you again. Don’t contact me.” Suits me just fine, bitch.

It’s Saturday night, and I’m in France wearing a suit. There’s a fancy dress party and I go as Tony Stark from Iron Man – perhaps not the most original idea, but after a week of dishevelled i’m-on-holiday-and-thus-will-not-shave attitude I manage to fashion myself a reasonable goatee and hit the town.

It’s a good party with a high ratio of chicks to men. I may have been out of the game for a year, but I know I’ll pull. Because I’m there primarily to party, get drunk and have a good time I fall back on the age old pulling weapon of all non-PUA’s – beer.

More beers than I can count later, a bunch of us “super-heros” break free from the heard and start harassing people in a local bar. Being a multi-billionaire thanks to profiteering in the arms trade, I offer to buy the group a round “Hey, Tony Stark can afford it”, fortunately, only 4 people hear me so I get off easy.

I start hitting on PinkGirl, HB8, and tease her a little and tell her that my goatee is fake. She has pink hair and I tell her I think it’s fake, she tells me it’s real. I pull it. It comes off! Oops. Set destroyed I move on to find my next target.

ArabianChick, HB9 is dressed up for a night out on the town and is cavorting around with some “well-dressed” French men. I decide I need to teach them the meaning of well dressed and start chatting her up. It goes well for a while, and then I suddenly realise how drunk I and my friends are. Actually, just how drunk my friends are. They are re-arranging tables. The management asks Spider Man, Banana Man, Batman and me to leave. I call him the Green Goblin (he was wearing a green t-shirt), and warn him that Spider Man will be back later to finish him off. He is not impressed. We leave.

On the way out I try and number close ArabianGirl, reach for my phone and realise I left it at home, I try to find anything to write on and fail miserably to get more than a few euro notes and some cigarettes out of my jacket. She giggles. I decide that number closing a girl when I’m leaving the country the next day is not high up on my list of productive things to do to get me laid. I leave.

We return to the party and find all the beer has been consumed in our absence. In England this would be a cause for a riot. As we’re in France, without breaking stride, we simply switch to wine and hard liquor instead.

I start chatting up a HB8 and then get bored and go off to dance (yes, alcohol does strange things to a man). On my return I meet HB7 and tell her I’m Tony Stark, she tells me she’s Zelda and I reply “Nice, but you’re not dressed up”. “No, that’s my real name”. “No chance, what is it really?”, “No, it’s true, see it’s on my business card”. Hah, the only chick at the Super Hero party not dressed up is called Zelda. I glance to the heavens and the beer gods tell me, she will be mine.

And she was. I ran some very basic (and very drunk) routine, kiss close her after about 10 minutes, and then tell her we’ll have to go back to her’s as I live 200 miles to the north. She gives me some line to the effect of “what makes you think we’re going back to mine”, which I quickly destroy, and we go back and fuck like rabbits for hours.

The next day I wake up, we fuck again, and I drive off home. Driving through French country-side at 100 mph in my ridiculous sports car, still wearing the suit I had on last night, very hung-over and having just shagged a French chick, I finally feel I’m doing Tony Stark justice.

B