After the luau, everybody scattered to the beach-side bar because there was apparently an after-party that all the dancers would be attending. This should be interesting. Of course, yet again, I make my way on over before all my family and friends. How am I the only one concerned about getting STRAIGHT TO THE BAR? Now walking down the sidewalk path by myself from having left everyone else behind, the walkway illuminated with nothing but fire torches and the moonlight, I feel yet another tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I’m face to face with the hula dancer again, him half-naked staring dead into my eyes with a deer-in-headlights look. Speaking with a completely flat affect,
Hula-Dancer: *deep voice absolutely void of expression in caveman-like tone* The Heat lost…I am upset.
Me: *placing my hand on his chest while picturing myself bite and claw at it later, flirtatiously stating* Oh my God I knooooooooow…whatdya say we take some shots and hold each other (NAKED) while we cry about it? *pointing to my shoulder* Right here baby just let it aaaaaalll out! Haha…hee. *now smiling suggestively*
Hula-Dancer: *not flirting back in the least and still no change in expression with his eyes still dead-locked on mine in a bizarre robotic tone* Yes I’d like that. I must dance for a little while. I will come to you when I am done. *nodding to me like sumo wrestlers do before a fight and now walking off*
I’m stunned and left feeling slightly stupid. Uhhhhhh….. What…the fuck? OK maybe he didn’t catch my cute little joke mixed with a highly erotic sexual undertone. Whatever, I guess I’ll just see (fuck) him later then. Within seconds of the hula dancer walking away, I’m immediately bum rushed by my entire group of friends and family as they all CHARGE me CHEERING me on with AAAHHHH JAY!!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!! YOU’RE GONNA FUCK THE HULA DANCERRRRR!!!! My cousins, aunts, uncles, friends, and the like all giving me slaps on the back and jumping and chanting excitedly as we all continue to walk to the bar. Yes, guys, I’m totally fucking that foreigner senseless, HOWEVER, could we keep it the FUCK DOWN he’s only THREE FEET in front of us God dammit! How embarrassing: it’s like at the high school dance when the 11-year-old kid finally goes over to talk to the girl he likes with all his friends making kissy noises and dry-humping each other while whistling and cheering him on…yes I am that 11-year-old boy right now.
We all secure a bunch of tables for us to sit down as everybody takes turns congratulating me on winning the most prized meat at the fair (or fish? or slave? What do they win at fairs anyway…?). While I normally would bask in my bragging rights, something didn’t feel right about this guy after our first interaction. As I sit there quietly and quite humbly, giving nods and shrugs to everyone demanding how the hell I did it, island man comes walking up to our table, everybody now shutting the fuck up and STARING in silence, and taps me on the shoulder, simply stating, “SHOTS” and continuing to walk on to the bar without waiting for me. Yes, sir. Everyone WOO-HOOing and whistling behind me, I run up to catch up with hula dancer and apologize for my family, “They…find you as somewhat of a celebrity…and they don’t speak English.” At the bar now,
Hula Dancer: *facing me, same deer-in-headlights look* What is your name where are you from?
Me: I’m from Jersey, although I live in LA now aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I’m Jayla. What’s YOUR name? And oooooooh how do you feel about Patron? *now placing my hand on his arm and picturing him lifting me over his shoulder with it and spanking me after these shots*
Hula Dancer: *flat affect, still no expression and grunting out in monotonous tone* I am Niala. And yes I am OK with Patron.
Me: *ordering two shots of Patron from the bartender* Uhh…Niala…like…the lion cub from The Lion King? Simba’s girlfriend? The lion princess in the sequel? (Like your parents named you after the FEMALE lion? Oooh you poor kid)
Hula Dancer: *probably not recognizing my Lion King reference…which should be a clear indication that this mother fucker IS NOT NORMAL* Yes, Niala. How do you like Ha. wa. eeeeee *pronouncing it with his little island accent, which immediately shoots me back into my libidinous line of conversation*?
Me: *now running my finger down his chest and pointing to his tattoos, while giggling suggestively* Mmmm I looooooooove Hawaii *slyly smiling and looking up at him while I continue to trace his tribal tattoos* What do these mean??
Hula Dancer: *still completely unphased by my touching of his bare chest and abs, unchanging monotonous tone* They signify that I am the warrior of my tribe. I am the protector. My family has been here for many generations. *deer-in-headlights as he looks at me*
Me: *realizing that this is the most difficult conversation I’ve ever had in my entire life, as his intelligence and communication levels can be compared to that of a 5-year-old Autistic boy, now addressing bartender* Hey, man, make that FOUR shots. *now turning back to island man but wanting the conversation to end DESPERATELY* OK yeah great many generations SOOOO UMMM has anyone ever told you that you look like THE ROCK?!?!
Hula Dancer: *finally changing facial expressions and lighting up at this suggestion, still monotonous and staring at me all wide-eyed like he was getting butt-fucked against his will* Oh yes. He is so handsome. I hope one day to look as handsome as he.
Me: (WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!?!??! WHERE ARE MY SHOTS!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS FUCKING AAAAAAAAAAWFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) Haha…ooh…well you look like him. *shots arriving* By the way, the way you move your hips man, sexy as fuck. *giving him the A-OK gesture with my hand* Good for you, you’ve got some talent *now taking two shots in my hands, DOWNING THEM AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE as he takes one shot for himself and I grab the last one, quickly downing that one too and wanting to get away as fast as possible* OK GREAT MEETING YOU, uhh (Princess Lion female lion cub SIMBA’S GIRLFRIEND!!!) NIALA!!!!! I’ll see ya around!!!!! *now scurrying as fast away from him as I can as my family cheers me on at my return*
Now, there’s plenty of things I’ll do in bed, but STUPID is not one of them. I may come off as shunningly shallow and only completely interested in copulating with the cast of 300, but I actually have insanely unattainable standards when it comes to who I fuck, both physically and mentally, which can account for the fact that I can make a blog based on all the times I DON’T have sex. And that guy…(!!!!), did not make the cut. Nothing turns my vagina away faster than unintelligence, that and jacked up teeth. I’d sooner scissor with my virgin, female chihuahua before I fuck a guy who I can’t possibly have a conversation with. Now returning to the table, I simply shake my head, and motion with my hand across my neck that, “NOOOOOOOOO!!” while everyone stares at me in dumbfounded anticipation. “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!” the 20 of em bark at me. “Guys…NO!” is all I can explain.
The festivities now dying down and me intoxicated out of my mind, I’m now walking away from the little party and heading off to go be by myself, as I sit on the phone with Wiley discussing YET AGAIN why we’ll never work out. We love having these conversations. Or at least I love reinforcing to him all the things wrong with the concept of US. Now sitting on a bench by myself listening to Wiley discuss in full detail how damaged he is and everything he feels about me, while “Mmmm hmmm”ing and “right right right”ing, I see the hula dancing staff come walking out of the party ready to go home. Hoping he doesn’t notice me, I keep my head down and pretend to be completely engrossed in whatever it is Wiley’s saying, when idiot Hula Dancer comes walking up to me. UGH now I have to look up as he’s standing RIGHT OVER me. Same monotonous tone, Hula Dancer pulls out his cell phone and points it at me, instructing,
Hula Dancer: GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER.
Me: *giggling, mouthing out with my lips and pointing to my phone that I still have against my ear, completely silent* SORRY! I’m on the phone!!! *shrugging*
Hula Dancer: *unmoving and completely ignoring my mime and getting louder and more assertive, pushing his phone closer to my face* GIVE. ME. YOUR. NUMBER. *now waiting*
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! Giving up, I simply punch my number into his phone with the intent to never see him again. In fact I always give out my number, never intending to answer or use it (refer back to Best). I just know that rejection is a fucking bitch, at least in the moment. I won’t reject you RIGHT THEN AND THERE for both of us, and possibly all your friends, to witness. I’ll just wait til we both get home for me to ignore you. Finally satisfied, Hula Dancer walks off, without saying anything. What a fuckin weirdo!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The rest of the trip is spent with me receiving requests to hang out, but with me replying that I’m too busy with family stuff MAYBE LATER (I don’t count him off quite yet, as I am on vacation and anticipating a drunken need to fuck something at some point). On our last day, we’re all sitting having breakfast when I receive this picture text message from Niala, female lion cub:
What do YOU see wrong with this picture? I do not reply to this message. I simply pass the phone around the breakfast table, as we all role play different scenarios of what it WOULD HAVE been like for me to fuck this guy, never replying or hearing from Lion Princess again.
You may think it’s real fucked up of me to put these pictures on here. However, I find it quite necessary for you all to understand to the full extent of the hero (or warrior of the tribe) in this story. Will he ever see these? Probably not. What warrior of a tribe/hula dancer has time to read blogs?