The jaguar and the cougar

So I’m home, and like I always do when I travel, I got sick, so I’ve felt like death ever since the airport. So this post is actually a little delayed, but I couldn’t not tell this story.

Our vacation was the best ever. I mean, it’s weird, I wasn’t planning on sleeping with half the hotel. Because it’s not exactly an intelligent decision to sleep with half the hotel right at this particular moment.

Of course, Kazander and I are vaccinated, because we’re not Fox-worshiping sheep, but even so, I still have leukemia and people are idiots. I wasn’t planning on doing anything with anybody.

So we met this girl. And just like the sisters, I swear she walked right out of a porno.

She was 20 years old. Columbian. A librarian (complete with the cute big hipster glasses). Smart as all fucking hell. She speaks Spanish and Portuguese, as well as English, and she knows about philosophy and history and politics.

She’s a vegetarian because it’s more environmentally sustainable, but she admits that she loves steak and chicken nuggets every once in a great while, and she only just recently tried bacon for the first time, and oh my god, you guys, the way her eyes lit up as she gushed about how amazing bacon is, it was like watching a little kid at Christmas.

And yeah, her hotness puts even the sisters to shame, but it was her mind that caught my attention. It started because Kazander and I admitted that we don’t know basically anything about Columbia, except for drugs and Pablo Escobar.

And she sat there and gave us an entire history lesson about him. And it was amazing, you guys.

I mean, first, I love shit like that. I love seeing those other perspectives. And as smart as she is, her perspective was brilliant. She explained how he rose to power, why he became so popular, and how Columbia teaches kids about him. It was so much more in depth than anything I ever learned here.

I mean, of course he was still a bad guy, everyone knows that. But there was so much more to that story than I ever knew.

She carried her laptop with her, everywhere she went, and multiple times during our conversation, she’d open it up and look up a word she didn’t quite know the right translation for, or a fact she couldn’t quite remember.

And I don’t think I’ll ever get used to just how friendly and kind people in Latin countries are. I see it in Mexico all the time, and it always takes me by surprise, but she put even Mexicans to shame.

Just bubbly and outgoing and the sweetest, nicest girl you could ever meet. And easily one of the smartest people you could ever meet.

Needless to say, we all hit it off.

And then we really hit it off.

At one point, she ended up with her tongue down my throat. Then down Kazander’s throat. Then she wanted a three-way kiss.

Then she wanted a three-way.

And I mean, I was not about to deny this sweet Columbian naughty librarian what she wanted. I’m not a monster.

We brought her back to our room, and the entire way there, she was just a damn wildcat. Pawing at me, kissing and biting, climbing all over me. Once we got to the room, Kazander wanted to hop in the shower and rinse off (it’s humid. Lots of sweating), so I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom like I was carrying her across the damn threshold.

I tossed her on the bed, but she immediately jumped back up with a dark grin and just attacked me. Crazy aggressive, biting and scratching and tearing my clothes off.

And it just woke up that primal predator in me. I found myself almost growling, throwing her around, biting and clawing at her just as hard as she was biting and clawing at me.

I’m a few inches taller than her, and much broader and stronger, but she was agile as fuck, and every time I threw her down, she immediately jumped right back up and pounced on me again.

By the time Kazander came out of the shower, the bed was completely destroyed, pillows were thrown across the room, I think her bra was hanging from the bedroom door, I mean, it was intense.

And yeah, pretty much all he could do at that point was lie back and let us have our way with him. The poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

By the time it was over, I was bruised, scratched, bleeding out of like eight different places, my sheets looked like a damn war had broken out on my bed.

And jesus christ, y’all, I think I met my match. I was exhausted.

I’m not 20 anymore, mkay. I’m not a young adult anymore, I definitely lean closer to “cougar” now. I don’t have the energy I did 15 years ago.

And my personal brand of intensity is slower, more mental, and usually involves a lot of carefully-planned build-up, gradually growing more and more intense until the sub feels like they’re going to absolutely break, before I finally let loose on them.

While she was just fucking explosive. No hesitation, no build-up, just a goddamn wild animal.

Honestly, she was like a jaguar. Small and lithe, aggressive, absolutely predatory, laughing and growling and trying her damndest to take a chunk out of me.

Finally, things died down, and I had Kazander walk her back to her room while I hopped in the shower and counted my battle scars.

He came back and shook his head, nursing his lip from where she’d kissed him goodnight and tried to take a chunk out of him, too.

“My fucking god, she’s crazy,” he said.

I laughed. “Yeah, she definitely is.”

And we all ended up making out again the next day, though (thankfully) we had to get up early the next morning for our Covid test, so we couldn’t stay out late. Because damn, she was ready for round 2, but I needed a day to recover after that.

Ah, to be 20 again.

Kazander made the comment that he was glad she was the last one we played with, because there was no way the sisters or the couple could have ever lived up to that.

I mean, how do you follow up something like that? How do you top that?

We got her contact info, and we’ve been chatting with her since we got home. When she turns 21, she wants to come to Vegas and hang with us for awhile, and yeah, that’ll be a hell of a lot of fun.

But holy hell, I think I’ll need to wear armor.

Not punching people in the face

So I’m a teensy bit aggressive and confrontational. I also have a distinct lack of patience.

This has led to me occasionally punching someone in the face when they cross a line.

But I’ve been working on that. I haven’t punched anyone in in face in like six months.

But okay, to be fair, seriously, that guy deserved it. And I don’t regret punching him at all.

It was December, and the casinos were open again. I grabbed my mask and decided I wanted a drink.

And do you remember what happens when I try going to a bar by myself?

This guy came up, hitting on me. I thanked him and told him I wasn’t interested. He kept pushing, so I told him to fuck off.

He started rubbing up on me, so I called security. They told him to back off. He came back.

So I punched him in the face. No conversation, no talking, no waiting to see what he was going to say this time. As soon as he was close enough, he got punched in the face.

And security came back in force. But who did they grab and escort to that dark dingy office that every casino has in every movie? Who did they treat like a criminal?

I’ll give you three fucking guesses.

And the main security guard was such a condescending prick. He lectured me, like, “We’re adults here. We are supposed to handle problems like adults. We use our words.”

And I got pissed (and I was buzzed). I said, “If you’d done your fucking job the first time I came to you with this problem, I wouldn’t have had to handle it myself. God forbid you have to stand up to another man. No, that’s just too scary. It’s so much easier to let him harass a woman and sexually molest her on your property, and then lecture her when she does your job for you, you absolute fucking coward.”

Oh, I was pissed. And I didn’t have Kazander or Sounder or anyone there to calm me down or hold me back. I got downright mean.

He finally told me he wouldn’t ban me from the casino, but this would be my only warning, and he “expected me to behave myself.”

So whatever. I can guarangoddamntee that asshole didn’t grind up on anyone else the rest of that night, and it’s not because security told him to leave me alone, it’s because he got punched in the face.

He learned the same lesson that small children are taught: shit has consequences.

I should work security.

Anyway, I was hanging with this Mexican couple the other night. It was late, and suddenly this big group of drunk college-age white American kids came in. They were loud, rowdy, arm-wrestling on tables and just having a grand old time.

But, while annoyingly loud, I was fine with that. Just innocent drunken rowdiness. Boys being boys.

Until their friends came in. These guys were wearing speedo-type swimsuits, and started air-humping behind every woman in the place.

They came up behind me, but I waited. Because the staff was already moving. They wear all black, and the entire energy of the room changed, and all of a sudden it was like you saw these men in black just swooping in from every direction, all at once.

Surprisingly not this time, Alistair

And I’ve been trying to refrain from punching people, and obviously the staff wasn’t messing around, so I stayed seated and let them handle it.

They really weren’t playing around, either. The whole thing, from the time the second group came in, until the time security showed up, was maybe 30 seconds (I was drunk, so my perception of time might be off). Maybe a full minute before they got all of them out the door.

I was impressed, honestly. And relieved. And happy to sit there and let the staff handle it, since they obviously took it seriously. It was nothing like the “meh, shrug” attitude you see in the US when a guy crosses that line.

But apparently I’d tensed up. After they left, the husband said I looked like I was about to go off on the kids. I laughed and told him I thought about it, but didn’t want to risk being thrown out of the hotel.

He looked at me like I had three heads. So I explained last time I punched someone, and I got in trouble.

He looked at me like I’d just grown a fourth.

“What? Oh no, this is Mexico. That doesn’t happen here. As long as he’s 18, you’ll never get in trouble for that.”

His wife chimed in. “Why do you think you never see Mexican boys doing that? You wouldn’t be the first woman in this country to teach a drunk boy that lesson.”

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m kinda a fan of the US, it’s kinda my favorite place. But goddamn, you know, we could learn a thing or two from folks down here.

Even so, I’m glad I refrained. I’m trying to not be a complete asshole, and I really was impressed with how fast and how effectively the staff handled it. As long as the people who are supposed to care about my safety actually do care, I’m fine to sit tight and let them handle problems.

It was kind of an eye opener, though, just seeing the difference in how that sort of thing is handled. Like, the staff didn’t care about the rowdiness, I think one of them was going over to ask the first group to tone it down, but that was it.

It wasn’t until the kids started fucking with the women that suddenly it was like all the fun was immediately sucked out of the room. It was tangible. You could feel it. There was nothing good-natured or accommodating about the staff as they came running. They ran in, barking orders into their walkie-talkies, and everything about their faces, their body language, their energy was intense and serious. They almost felt dangerous.

Like, they weren’t getting the guys out because that’s what they’re paid to do. There was almost an anger behind it (though they are not US cops, so obviously they know how to deescalate instead of escalate issues. But to be fair, even McDonald’s workers have better deescalation capabilities than cops. Because, *sips tea,* they get fired if they don’t).

So it wasn’t hostile or violent, but it almost felt like there was this anger simmering underneath the surface in all the staff. Like they took it personally. It’s hard to explain, but it took me completely by surprise, and like, I was okay to be the damsel in distress and let the fierce knights come charging to my rescue.

I’d never felt anything like that in the US. You’d never see anything like that back home.

And it felt good, honestly. Like, oh, I can relax. I don’t have to be on my guard constantly, ready to hit someone at a moment’s notice. I can trust these people to step in, I don’t have to deal with it myself.

As if I needed another reason to completely adore this place.

And it makes me wonder, how much of me being an asshole is because I feel like I have to be on my guard constantly? How much of how aggressive and confrontational I am is because of shit like what happened at the casino, and would I still feel that way if I could trust the people around me to help out if I need it?

How many American women are assholes because we feel like we’re alone? How many women have bitten a guy’s head off for seemingly innocent shit, because she knows there is a size and strength difference, and she can’t rely on anyone to help her, so she needs to compensate for that difference and the fact that she has no one to back her up, by striking first, striking hard, without mercy?

A group of scared people who don’t know how to handle certain shit and don’t feel like anyone has their back, so all they want is to hurt someone before that person has the chance to hurt them. It’s not right, it’s not healthy, but you heal Johnny by supporting him and teaching him that he isn’t as alone as he feels, not by arresting him or beating him up or telling him he’s on his own, and goddamn I love the first season of that show.

I mean, yeah I can admit that American women seem to be getting meaner, myself included. But I wasn’t mean and quick to punch people before I had issues like at the casino, or at the swinger’s club where I hit a guy for grabbing my ass without permission, and he didn’t even get kicked out, or my boss and my male coworkers stayed silent instead of warning me that one of the other bosses had drugged my beer (thankfully a female coworker pulled me aside and warned me).

I wasn’t born an asshole, guys. No one is. And maybe the US should take a note from how Mexico handles this specific kind of situation. Because if I could go to a bar by myself and feel safe, I’d probably be way more likely to be kind and friendly if you come up and offer to buy me a drink.

I still loved the couple’s reaction, though. Like, “Honey, you’re in Mexico. If a guy gets in your face and won’t back off, you are well within your rights to fucking make him.”

And like Sounder said when I told him about it the next day, we need to make “Fuck around and find out” the basis for our laws in the US. I think it would make a difference in a lot of unexpected ways.

Decisions, Decisions

So I have a wedding coming up (God, it’s less than a year away now) and one of metric fuckton of things I need to figure out is where we’re going to go for our honeymoon.

Our first choice was Australia. But as it turns out, we’re looking at absolutely ridiculous airfare costs. Seriously, the cost of airfare will be more than the cost of the all-inclusive resort package. We thought we could swing it, since the company kazander works for is based out of Australia. We thought we could convince the powers-that-be to pay for at least his airfare, and turn it into a work trip. They’ve paid to send employees over there on occasion to tour the Australian place and see how they run things. And it wouldn’t have been much of an inconvenience to take just a couple hours one day to tour the facility.

But that was not to be. Apparently he’s still too low on the ladder to convince his bosses to do that. So Australia is out of the question. And that makes me sad.

Sadder than I am after watching this commercial

Sadder than I am after watching this commercial

So now we have other, more realistic options. Neither of us like the cold, and we’re getting married in November, so warm weather is a big requirement. Even with that limitation, though, there are a few different places I like. My current favorite is Jamaica. But I’m also looking at Aruba, Hawaii, and Mexico. There’s also a Mexican Riviera cruise that departs on the right day for us. And it departs from Los Angeles, so it would only be like a 45-minute flight there (as opposed to other cruises that depart from Florida or New York or whatever).

Hawaii would be the easiest, just because it’s still in the US and we wouldn’t need to worry about passports or paperwork. I already have a passport, but kazander does not. Yes, I know it’s easy enough to get one. Still, Hawaii would require no confusing visas, no dealing with customs, nothing. Super easy.

I don’t think kazander loves the idea of Mexico. Some parts of Mexico are a bit dangerous (although we’d likely just stay in the tourist areas) and there’s a language barrier. He doesn’t speak a word of spanish, and I speak enough to get by, but I’m not anywhere near fluent. Still, it’s a beautiful place and I’ve been there tons of times to visit family. I’ve always loved Mexico.

Still, I think Jamaica is my favorite, followed closely by the Mexican Riviera cruise. The town I looked at, Negril, seems fantastic, and the resorts available there are gorgeous. But there are other towns too, that seem pretty cool.

Aruba is nice, too, although I still prefer Jamaica.

We need to hurry up and figure this out, though, so we can put the deposit down and reserve our spot. At least we’re going in the winter, which is the slow season. That should knock the prices down a bit.