For the first time in my life I attended at a vorspiel made almost entirely out of girls, and I must say it was a somewhat different learning experience.
I come from the North of Norway (au-ha!).
I come from the country side of Northern Norway.
I come from a small village where vorspiel, really good as such, were almost entirely made out of men, drinking beer or booze and listening to good rock while making as little sense as possible.
I like it this way.
The whole ordeal begun with not knowing where to drink, but after a lot of back and forth we ended up going to a friend of a friend’s place (both feminine as such). After I’d secured a place for the beer in the refrigerator, carefully avoiding to comment the choice of music, I went out to the balcony to have a cigarette. The balcony is a great ice-breaker. If there is a great view, you can talk about that, if there is some insane, naked neighbour running around in the appartement on the other side of the street, you can discuss it. It worked ok this time too:)
Then the hostess found it necessary to shave her legs.
Ok. I like women with shaved legs, that’s a fact. But I also see this falling into the category of personal hygiene, which belongs in the bedroom or usually the bathroom. Not the livingroom. Not in the center of attention of a vorspiel. I was abashed, nervous, drank fast and chain-smoked while trying to enjoy the desperate cries of the dead-rock-wannabe Nirvana-follow-up Foo Fighters. (They stink.)
After a while, though, she came to realize that more than just me were bothered with her preperation of a night out. I was glad to see that people in general was more sensible than I’d guessed.
I finished my three beers, trying not to act too bothersome, while being bothered by the fact that I was never allowed to finish a sentence. The girls were talking by presenting the point first, then digging deeper into the story. I’m all into the opposite way of going about it. And the point was mostly educational, romantic, or perverted. I don’t really know, ’cause I wasn’t listening most of the time.. hiding my SMS communication with the rest of the world poorly from the group. But then, I didn’t know most of these people.
Beers finished. People ready to get out and party. Finally!
.. I thought, at least.
‘Till I discovered that the desired destination was a gaybar. Yup. Why?!!! Because the girls were all into going out without being picked up. Great. I’ve no problem with that, I can understand it but haven’t you forgotten someone in this equation?! The girls ensured to make a human wall around me if I was subjected to the homosexual wolves.
Being raised a good boy with great standards, I thought it too inpolite to just leave ’em now (which, in retrospect, I should’ve done). So I went along with it, got a little blue stamp on my hand and ran for the bar to get beer.
Now, I’m pretty small. Lean. Not very strong.
I was like a piglet in a binge of dogs.
A piglet drinking fast to calm its nerves.
Then I had to use the bathroom.
Without thinking, I went to the bartender wearing a tight top asking directions for the WCs. He smiled. With underscore, like this: He smiled. A flash of a second went by till I understood the meaning of this smile, being where I was. ".. just to take a piss" I added to the questionnaire.
Doing my thing, exiting the booth a korean guy was washing his hands. There was this big mirror making me a subject of his examination. I was very near freaking out at that point, imagining his thoughts to include little ol’ me. I washed my hands thorough, as ususal, but pretty fast. I could feel his eyes checking me out. Luckily nothing more than that happened. I think he was about to get friendly when the door opened, another guy came in, and I saw my oppurtunity to run. And boy did I run..
That was it, more or less. My night out with a bunch of gals at a feminine dominant vorspiel and later as prey in one of Oslo’s better gaybars. All in all it was boring. Yep. Not that a night out for me has to be go-go-go! all the time, on the contruary, but I just didn’t fit in anywhere in the scheme of the gods that night. The outgoing outcast.
There’s always gotto be a first time for everything, I reckon.
Luckily a last time, as well.