Being a female in a Las Vegas nightclub can be best compared to a single mouse in a forest full of wild boar. Upon entering you are no longer regarded as human, but rather look at as prey. You will be surrounded and encircled by males within seconds; there will be no escape.Our second night in Vegas was at Light Nightclub. We were overwhelmed before we had a chance to get inside, so once we did make our way to the bar we were in desperate need of strong drinks. Yes we purchased our own beverages. I have a sneaking suspicion that my age has matured me into a woman who would rather spend her own money than uninterestingly chat with a guy for free drinks. Although this did not distract the men from swarming.
The first guy was solo. Though he claimed his friends were around somewhere. He invited us to his cabana at the Mandalay pool on Sunday; sure. He bragged about his friend placing a thirty thousand dollar bet on red? Does that gambling reference make sense? I can't remember, I clearly was not impressed.
The second duo was from Brazil. Initially this caught my attention as I imagined myself with a husband who allowed me to visit Brazil whenever I needed to escape the cold Canadian winters. However they weren't overly interesting and one was a little too pushy causing my friend to call an emergency getaway.
Third time is always a charm. Two of my friends chatted up some boys as a ploy to get rid of the Brazilian men. I continued to dance with my third friend not paying much attention. Until someone pulled my pony tail; an immediate turn on. It just so happened to be one of the guys part of the charming third trio (I swear it happened like one, two, three) from Toronto (of course we would meet Toronto boys in Vegas). After being introduced to the Drake look-a-like who pulled my pony tail, I was immediately hooked. Lust at first sight into eyes so blue I now understand the saying 'you can get lost in them', eyelashes so long I disregarded all/any common sense, lips so beautiful I kissed a stranger. When I witnessed a tattoo sleeve peaking out of his shirt, the lust may have turned into drunken love.
Coincidently I have a weekend trip planned to Toronto on May sixteenth. However, upon my return home I managed to succeed at my FBI stalking skills and I am quite certain that my Vegas affair actually has a girlfriend...douchebag.Merde.