Everywhere I go I seek out the disgusting.  Granted, Amsterdam’s Red Light District is pretty posh and touristy, but it’s where our hostel was, so we set off to find a dive bar that was within stumbling distance.

By “we”, I mean myself and my friend Livii, who was accompanying me on a 12-day Europe trip.  We’d just come from Paris (where I tried and failed to pick up a married man who knows my friends back in Chicago–but maybe that’ll be another post), and now we had two nights in Amsterdam before flying to Berlin.  We arrived on a Friday night and were ready to get lit.

We found our way over to a divey spot on an intersection near a canal.  I’m not going to give the name, as I don’t want to implicate anyone, but I’ll just say the theme of the bar was seafaring activity.  Anyway, we were already a little drunk at this point, and when I’m drunk, I have absolute mad game with men.  I get very aggressive and go after what I want.  When Livii found a spot at the bar for us to squeeze in and order drinks, I immediately made eye contact with Josh, directly to my right.  (Josh wasn’t his real name, but it’s what I thought he said because Americans struggle with accents, so that’s his pseudonym here.)

Josh had light blonde hair and a round baby face.  He had big, sweet eyes and a mischievous smile.  He was smiling that mischievous smile right at me, and I smiled back.  “Hi,” I said quietly before taking my drink and moving to a table with Livii.

A couple cute American chicks alone in Amsterdam on a Friday night are gonna attract attention, so it wasn’t long before two men joined us at our table.  This instantly scared me, because they were not attractive (think: projecting masculinity), and I didn’t want to get cockblocked.  I occasionally cast glances back at Josh, which were always returned.  Our tablemates noticed, so that’s when I told them I was on a mission.  A mission to get Josh’s dick.  They dug it, and they made themselves content to watch my pursuit.

The pursuit happened pretty quickly.  Josh walked by our table on his way to the bathroom.  As he was coming back, passing behind my chair, I craned my neck backwards to look up at him and asked, “What’s your name?”  (This was when the “Josh” confusion ensued, but we quickly sorted it out.)  Anyway, I stood up, pressed against him, and asked if he wanted to make out with me.  He did.  We kissed a bit and then he went back to the bar to rejoin his friend.

Conversation happened.  I don’t recall what was discussed, aside from the bold move I’d just pulled.  By this time we were all pretty trashed, and I walked back over to Josh.  We made out some more, and then I suggested we have sex in the bathroom.  Said bathroom was incredibly tiny, which made this task rather difficult.  I remember having my jeans pulled down to my knees, bending over slightly and leaning against the wall, while he struggled to find a position in which he could penetrate me from behind.  We did manage to fuck, but we only lasted a few minutes before giving up.  The bathroom was too small.

Back at the bar, we chatted a bit and exchanged contact info.  Then we parted ways.  The next night, I went to the same bar again, hoping to see him a second time.  He wasn’t there, but the night did not disappoint nonetheless…