Not because the nest is actually that big, but because all this time I have been enjoying his showing off his ancient history education and only now I have to find out he doesn't know what a stork is.
It is the sweeping implications of course that baffle me.
I hesitate very much on this one, but feel obliged to communicate the facts to him. "They are the ones that bring babies".
It should have been his mum who told him, not some arbitrary girl he meets hitchhiking.
But he stays composed taking in the information that should shake his world.
Anyway, so I was travelling with these two English guys for three weeks and, -if you are understandably wondering, who I got it on with, Paul or Frederick, I have to inform you that there must have been a reason that we travelled together, all three of us.
Since we are talking about English guys here, one certainly wouldn't have suited, and, um, satisfied, my needs. They were highbrow fun enough to be with, with all their Oxford slash Cambridge education, but, Paul being the sort of guy that is going out with another girl anyway, and Frederick being more like the kind you rape in a bush, drunkenly, on the way home from the pub, rather than anything else, -not though that I am implying that he was bad looking, on the contrary, -I was not especially attracted to either of them.
Since this was the case, I had made the secret deal in my head that I'd only have one of them, if I could somehow make it work out to have both of them, and at the same time, too.
To still your curiosity right at the beginning: It didn't happen.
I might well plausibly make it up here, but well, it didn't actually happen.
I started shyly flirting with both of them, but Frederick-the cuter one, to make it worse-, got all defensive and started talking about his girl-friend in Oslo. I later found out, not that she didn't exist, but that they were in some sorts of open relationship anyway, so his defensiveness was quite inappropriate.
Paul, on the contrary, did take the bait and as appropriately responsive as a young nubile man should be to my fleeting eyes fixed bluely onto his in carefully measured instances of flirtation, he hit on me promptly. He did not seem to get the nuance, that I wanted to implicate him in my tentative hook up with Frederick, though.
When I was crawling over the table to feed him with the spring rolls he only saw my showing him my cleavage, he didn't see how I simultaneously looked over my shoulder to check if Frederick had noticed how I had rubbed my buttocks against him on climbing up (he had and embarrassedly strove to pretend not to).
When my left foot wandered up Paul's trousers under the table in the restaurant and ended up fervently rubbing his tumescent crotch he never noticed me making gooey eyes to Frederick at the same time.
And when I took both their hands when we were perambulating the sea shore promenade in Antalya, he never realized what my other hand was up to, symmetrically trying to achieve the same grasp (Frederick pulling away his paw, though, ogling me slightly irritated).
In the end of the day, the only way I can explain Frederick's reluctance to my advances (me!, I mean come on) because either he noticed my two way intentions and decided to counteract on them, or well, he has an ugly girl fetish. ...Hey Fred, mate, say, do you, by any chance, have a picture of that Oslo girl-friend with you?
By the way, I am just joking, I didn't really do any of these things I just made up. Like, I don't feed people with spring rolls, nor would I ever walk hand in hand with anyone, especially if I hadn't yet slept with them. As for rubbing people's crotches under the table, I won't deny that I have done that, as you will get to know later, but on this occasion I definitely didn't do it, not something I'd make a habit out of after all.
I just did my usual game of flirting shyly while making it clear to both I intended this to stay chaste, but inserting jocose remarks about threesomes which should have made them get the clue. The closest I got to proposing the three way deal was when we were moving into a hud in a quiet beach resort called Olimpos (nothing to do with where the Greek gods lived, by the way, although coming pretty close to paradise).
We were going to share one to get the cheapest deal but had to find out that there were only huds with two beds maximum, although there were those where one was a double. I was just about to assure Aise that that would be fine, we would share this, hoping afterwards things would just fall into place, when Paul intercepted my innocuous enough sounding attempt to settle on this one room. "That would only result in an Iris sandwich" Paul said and all I could do was eagerly bounce my head up and down, trying to steer things the right direction, but Frederick laughed it off "we don't want that, do we?" I could only add " "I "think that would be a good idea", but they didn't take the suggestion for what it was.
Plus, Paul's very much being the kind of guy who is going out with someone else anyway, boldly proved itself one sunny beach afternoon.
It was in Egypt that he had fallen in love a month ago. With a journalist from Canada, who also liked that cartoonist he always talked about (maybe she was the reason he always talked about him I started to think). She actually tracked him down in Turkey and when she walked down the beach, calling Paul's name seeing him from afar, this had him swirl around so promptly, that it just was the most obvious thing how smitten by her he was. Pretty thing, too. Four years older than him, long blonde wavy hair, timid long lashed eyes and a timorous loud laugh showing shiny white non-smokers teeth.
And Frederick. Well, that the last night of our stay by the beach, he actually had a snog and a fumble with Aise the girl who ran the place. Aise wasn't really what you'd describe a guys first choice neither, so Paul and me were duly appalled that Frederick chose her over us. Or well, I was appalled and I expected Paul to bond with me over this, but he wasn't. Paul, of course, as I had forgotten by this part of the trip, wasn't gay and intent on sleeping with Frederick who rejected him. These were efforts of my own imagination, the story I had spun to twist the facts so as to let my endeavour to get the three of us to get it on, shine in the light of being not one of my personal hypertrophied lust, but one of sisterly sympathy for the taste of another. Purely a twist of my conscience. In reality, Paul was just pissed that he didn't get to screw the girl and hadn't even realized my subtle manipulations undertaken from the beginning.
I saw Fred back in England, where I repeated my advances, making it clear, I think, that no third party would be required. But, since a heterosexual guy who doesn't fancy me doesn't exist, I had to find out that Frederick is very shy.
Or well, maybe it was the ugly girl fixation finally.