Nice Gestures Clash with bad diets

I’m not gonna lie… I love camping. If by camping you mean setting up base at the Ritz’s piano-bar. But real camping… with tents and sleeping bags (which should be called insomnia bags) not so much.
My friends convinced me to do a week of it in Indonesia. It sounded horrible, but I don’t see them enough, so off we went. Three girls in a tiny sweat lodge for a tent.
It was Day 4 and I’d had enough. The grease from the sea salt, suncream lotion, sweat and mosquito repellent had formed an impenetrable layer, like a skin-fitted armour.  I needed a shower, not a bundle of wet wipes.
Charlie isn’t attractive, but I know he isn’t a creep either since we have a bunch of friends in common. Charlie was failing at seducing me to sleep with him:
“Last summer we went to Corfu, it’s quite alright there, quite alright. Have you been?”
“hmm, no, not really.”
I tried to feign interest while I sucked on my rum with a touch of rum. One of the two staples in my Indonesian diet. The other being mangoes of course. I was getting bored (which means my glass was almost empty) and I was quite tired of these well-intended posh stories.
“-It’s not like my bungalow here, much more quaint.”
“A bungalow you say?”
“Yes, a big one with a jacuzzi overlooking the sea.”
“I don’t much care about that, do you have AC?”
The anticipation of his answer was turning me on. I would have fucked an AC unit right there and then.
The music was just too loud.
“Air conditioning! Does your bungalow have it?”
“Oh of course, and private access to the beach.”
I was sold. I needed a good night sleep, and if all it was gonna cost was to give this guy some sex, so be it. Judge me, but something’s are worth compromising for, and I learnt that the hard way.
I think it was a lovely gesture on his part to pay for my drinks, but completely unnecessary at this point.
We went to his place; it was paradise (aside from the pesky fact that he wanted sex, and that I would have to share the bed with him later).
He tried his best to please me, bless him, and I did my best to please him swiftly.
The deed was done, and now I could enjoy the space. I took my second shower, longer this time, and went to bed. Oh… Sheets and a pillow, and enough space on either side that I don’t need to be spooning anyone – Bliss.
Woke up before sleeping beauty with some severe stomach cramps. I hate taking a shit in a strange place, especially one where the toilet door is just a fancy curtain. So I was getting ready to leave to mine. Oh wait, the camping site place is even worse, a hole in the ground between two rocks; it forces you to be doing an Indian squat while suspending yourself on your arms in a tricep-burning pose.
I slipped my shorts on and the unimaginable happened. I shat myself. Right there, in bed. I filled my short jeans. I grabbed the back of the trousers and pressed them against my thighs, I didn’t want it to slip out as I wobbled to the bathroom. Stepped into the shower and did my best to clean myself. Then focused on cleaning my shorts. Jesus… It’s everywhere.
Cleaned the bathroom behind me, of course, there were no cleaning products so I had to use the hand soap for everything. If he was a total stranger, I wouldn’t care much about this scenario. But he’s friends with my friends. I can’t let him know what’s just happened. I can’t be that person.
That’s it. It’s all clean. I grab the rest of my stuff and he opens his eyes as I’m about to leave.
“Hey darling, I’ll get up and we can go grab breakfast together.”
“Oh no, it’s ok… I’m meeting a friend.”
“That’s alright darling, let’s do lunch then, yeah?”
“yes, lunch works.”
He gets up to kiss me and I notice a little bit of shit on the floor! Some must have escaped my trousers as I got up from the bed. I sweep it up with my foot, while I ‘cobra’ myself out of a kiss and hug him. I feel so dirty, standing there with my soiled-rolled up shorts in one hand and my hand-cleaned, but not clean at all, bikini bottoms as the only cover of my modesty.
Later that day, we sat down for lunch. I needed to know if he noticed anything. I needed to be able to defend myself in case he did. You know, mitigate the damage early. But nothing, it was a normal lunch. He ordered some seafood, and I choose some rice instead. I picked up the meal, it’s the minimum I could do. He asked me over again, and I chose the comfort and cleanliness of my three people palace.

Gesture for Dee Kelly

Diet for FOWC with Fandango

Gesture for Tales from the mind of Kristian

2 thoughts on “Nice Gestures Clash with bad diets

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