Dickhead In Disguise
Posted on June 7, 2018
When I left for the South Island, I must have been on some strange high of good guy drugs. After Hot Welshman, Fake Zac Efron, and Rose Tattoo, it felt like the universe was just trying to prove to me that I was nothing more than a whiny, overreacting bitch, and that guys actually deserve a fair chance without me labelling them as grade A fuckboys within the first two minutes. I mean, thanks, universe, I guess; there’s worse ways to be taught a lesson. A few stops in I met Canada 1, friend of Canada 2 and an excellent big spoon – although nothing more than that, pinky promise –, Adorable Mexican Guy – absolutely the best smile I’ve ever seen –, and unfortunately, last but not least, Idiot Englishman. What can I say, I’m a sucker for UK lads.
I met Idiot Englishman when I walked into my hostel room in Queenstown. Did I do a silent thank you to the heavens above when I saw him sit on his bed? You know it. Cute smile, Northern English – I know, that’s actually a plus for me, it’s bad –, rugby player, and a last name like the most coveted tv bad boy ever. Do I have issues? I’d say so. Will I ever learn? Probs not.
I instantly started flirting shamelessly. Unfortunately, he was not alone. His mate, Annoying Australian, didn’t seem to get the hint that the flirting was in no way directed at him. I mean, by all means, shoot your shot, dude, but you ain’t gonna score here. We had a fun chat, and said we might see each other going out that night. We didn’t, but I’d honestly already forgotten about him on my night out with the girls – who needs stinky boys when you’ve got your girl gang to have fun with, anyway? Come morning, however, we were the only ones left in our dorm – including Annoying Australian, obviously – and we started discussing the previous night. AA thought he was an absolute legend for taking a girl home with him, and for then kicking her out of bed when he wasn’t getting what he wanted. Did I say Annoying Australian? I meant Absolutely Fucking Disgusting Australian. Unfortunately, pea brain also got things a bit mixed up, since he suddenly thought I was absolutely keen to get it on with him. Idiot Englishman and I had been talking about needing a good spooning sesh the night before, and somehow AFDA thought I would settle for any other moron to get in bed with me – and so he did. He literally crawled into my bed, in his fucking underwear nonetheless, to come and cuddle me. It took me a good few seconds to realise what was happening, and so perplexed about the whole thing, the first thing that came to mind – that’s a lie, but I reckoned actually punching him in the face would be seen as a bit much (although the judge and jury would totally be on my side) – and I just got out of my own fucking bed. Awkward and uncomfortable, to say the least. Meanwhile Idiot Englishman just thought the whole situation was too funny. So much for a knight in shining armour, but hey, romance is dead, we all know that.
Idiot Englishman had to check out that day, and I was absolutely devastated. We added each other on Facebook and said we would meet up. Oddly, for some reason I can’t remember, he was back the same night, hanging out with AFDA while I was getting ready to go out. By that time, we’d been message flirting and, because Idiot Englishman is an actual idiot, he’d told AFDA. I don’t want to repeat some of the things that fucktard said, because they were pretty vulgar – and that’s coming from a girl that calls guys ‘fucktards’. Some of his other comments, however, were about the other girls in the room and how they were ‘fifteens in blackjack’, meaning he was unsure if he thought they were attractive. It was very rich coming from a guy that looked like a degenerate version of Jonah Hill. I said he couldn’t talk about girls like that, and that I couldn’t give two fucks about what he thought about me –because obvs I’m a ten, always. He made the mistake of asking me what I thought of him. I said he was a four, and that I was being generous. Idiot Englishman then asked what rating he would get, and I said I’d be generous and give him a six (in good lighting). AFDA kept low key insulting me, and when I called him out on it, telling him to keep his bullshit to himself, he said I made Stalin look like a nice person. I texted my mate to come pick me up at my room, put my shoes on, and waited for him to come save me – strongly put, of course, I don’t need to be saved.
Idiot Englishman then started going all sulky about being called a six, and asked if he could come out for drinks. I said I’d rather swallow a live crab whole than have him come out with us – mostly because of AFDA, because I knew they were a package deal. There was some more moaning, and long story short, my mate and I ended up bolting out of the room together with Idiot Englishman, going a flight of stairs up instead of down so we could ditch AFDA. Apparently, English lad and gross Aussie weren’t mates at all, which made me like him a bit more. Mistake #2.
He went back to his own room for a shower, and I went for drinks with my friends. We texted the whole night; cute, flirty, fun messages, nothing that would make him look like a dick. When we finally met up later that night, we went back to his hostel. We got in bed for the aforementioned spooning sesh, and I want the record to show he was the one that ended up kissing me. I can be a good girl, if need be, so I kept my hands to myself. I’m totally kidding, I didn’t. To quote Selena: “I mean, I could, but why would I want to?” This all looks like it’s a great story – one for the grandchildren, even, if having kids wasn’t sticky and way too expensive. It only took about two minutes for him to turn into an asshole. Basically – I’ll spare you the details, and the utter fucking bullshit he was telling me – he kicked me out of his bed about ten minutes in, because he was 100% convinced the other people in his room were telling on us at reception– yeah, we were not alone, that’s backpacking for you, soz. There was literally no convincing him that it was just an unfortunate coincidence that everyone was running around, and he made me leave. He gave me a smirk and said he was sorry, babe. We texted afterward and he tried to play it cool as if he wasn’t going to get from me what he wanted anyway, so that he wasn’t too bothered about being a dick to me. I said he could go fuck himself then. He probably did.
I told my girlfriends when I got home, and how I should have stolen some money, or – true Monica Geller style – wrecked his watch. My friend said I should have just cut his passport in half – I know, who hurt her, poor thing. The only not even very rude thing I’ve done is angry reacted to his new profile pic because I was sat with a friend and she said it was the least I could do, really. I should probably unfriend him, but maybe he’ll stumble upon this, and give it a read. If you do, darling, suck my dick.
Meanwhile I’m good going back to being a whiny, overreacting bitch who labels guys as grade A fuckboys within the first two minutes. All is well in the universe again.