No more putting up with shit - Vol.1

Ok, I guess it already started. I don't know why I always, ALWAYS have to like the troubled guy. It's unbeliveable. I must certainly be this huge magnet for wirdoes or guys that don't even know I exist.
It all started on Thursday. Junior, Pawel and I arranged to meet at Kolory at 9pm, have a few beers and then afterwards Kitsch. Junior had invited a couple of classmates, both from Egypt and ugly, to join us. They spoke Polish and their English was awful, I mean, they could speak English but the accent was unintelligible. A lot of good-looking guys there, some gay some not. We had a couple of beers and headed towards Kitsch. The weather was shitty, raining and not that cold, not that warm... We got there and ordered drinks, Junior and I had vodca and RedBull, one of the Egyptians didn't drink alcohol. We went to the dancefloor, music was shit and we started dancing. The two guys didn't like the place at all, there were a few gays and lesbians there. The guy who didn't drink alcohol just leaned against the wall and stared, looking kinda scared. The other one bought us drinks, I went for beer, Pawel vodca and orange juice and Junior wanted vodca and RedBull but the guy brought him vodca with pineapple juice, which Junior hates. He drank it all anyway.
We kept on dancing but the two Egiptian guys weren't having fun at all, they were just standing there. I asked everybody if they wanted to go to the bar for a while, they agreed. To my surprise, who was sitting at the counter??? Yes, Damian. I told Junior he was there and he came to say hey. We talked a little and then went to the counter where his things were. I completely forgot about Junior, Pawel and the guys. Completely. That's typical of me, though. He said that that was the first day he was going out after our "date" on Valentine's Day (I doubt it) and that he had seen his parents and that he had to stop going out for a while and that he had to study... That he wanted to wake up at 5am and go running or biking. That he wanted to start a band playing the guitar and doing the vocals. I was just drunk and listening to all that crap. I didn't mind, I was loving it. The little bitchy friend of his all the time kept coming and smoking cigarettes and he was all into her... Junior and Pawel kept going dancing on the dancefloor and coming back after half hour. One of the times I went to the bathroom I just heard somebody calling: 'Fernandaaaa!!!' It was the gay guy I always meet there, but I obviously couldn't remember his name. I looked at him and said: 'Ehh... Andrzej?' And he was all: 'No, try again, it starts with B.' I went all: 'Barthhh...olomeu??' He said: 'Almost. Bartek'. I apologized for not remembering his name and told him to go to the bar after checking his coat in the cloackroom.
I went back to talk to Damian. I was drunk and I wanted to kiss him or at least try to figure out once and for all why he was doing that to me. Of course, I don't remember one third of what we were talking about, I have just flashes of what may have happened. I remember that I had my hands all over him and saying that he had great muscles or something, holding his legs, I don't know. He went to buy him a few shots of vodca, three or four and we kept talking. He said that he was feeling better and I asked why and he said that it was because of me. I say it was because of the vodca. I really don't remember how the whole conversation started, I just remember asking him why he kept sending me text messages for three weeks and he said because he liked me. I said I liked him as well, but then he said that he didn't know what the problem with him was, that he was shy and romantic and things had to happen slowly. I got pissed. What a wierd country. Some wierd people. Some wierd guys. What was the matter with one little kiss? I think if they kissed more often they wouldn't be so fucking uptight.
I had run out of money, Junior and Pawel had long gone and I decided to leave as well. I grabbed his face and kissed him in the cheek. Then I tried to give him a little smack, and he said no. NO! I looked at him in disbelief and said: 'Oh my God... oh my God...', grabbed my purse and left. I left that place overwhelmed. I couldn't believe I'd been rejected by a 20-year-old Polish boy that loved Brazil and was all troubled. That knew nobody in that place apart from that little bitchy of his. That he was all wierd and maybe that's why nobody talked to him.
I went home and must have listened to Myslovitz fifty times. Even though I closed the doors Patricia was able to listen and she said that she thought a hundred times about getting up and ask me to turn it down. I told her the next day that had she done it I would have probably punched her in the face.
Seweryn had called me on Thursday afternoon inviting me to go to Warszawa. That was all I needed, to leave this city for the weekend and try to forget all about that shitty night.

(To be continued)