So you get the idea that the DR trip was one big honking party. Here’s day 2 with a bizarre twist for Big Daddy Lance at the end…
Chilling at the Beach
We were all a bit hungover from the late night partying last night, so we slept in and didn’t get started until after lunch. Bobby drove the girls home, which was the next town over.
That afternoon we hit Cabarete Beach and soaked up rays. Me, Stoute, and Hammer spent a couple of hours floating in the ocean, which was perfect, and shooting the breeze about anything and everything. We debated a lot about online game (Hammer was pro-Match.com, Stoute and I are against), dating in general, sex, and whatever else came to mind. Again, the convo was terrific. Bobby and Gecko wandered off to get food and find a decent massage parlor. Fling and Baby Style laid out on the recliners we rented (US$3).
Just a few notes about the beach. Waves were minimal, typical of what you would see in the Gulf of Mexico. The water was cool and the sand was a lovely dark brown color. My only gripe was that there were so many merchants wandering around pushing their wares, it got to be hella annoying. Some of the guys bought souvenirs though, so I guess they served their purpose.
As the sun was going down, we went back to the Drug Lord Palace and lounged around the pool for a few more hours. I don’t recall anybody napping, which I thought was unusual because everyone was still hurting from last night. We were thoroughly enjoying hanging out at the house and each other’s company. The convo flowed. We ended up under the gazebo on the sex balcony and one of the guys fired up a jay, which we passed around while the sun set. It was another memorable moment.
That night we hit the bars at Cabarete again. There was a pretty good crowd of people partying at the bars and the beach. I met Canadians, Germans, Aussies, Italians, Brits, Irish, French, Russians, Columbians, and a few others. I drank just a couple of beers and instead channeled my energy into opening sets; I probably opened 20 sets or so, with only a few lock-ins. Nothing exciting to report, although I did make one Facebook friend with a girl from Montreal, and I made good progress with a group of Irish gals. One of the gals (forgot her name) taught me a bit of Irish slang, and I in return taught her my slang from Florida:
- Her: “When it’s really good, we say deadly, or fookin’ deadly.”
- Lance: “I say awesome, killer, or it’s the shit.”
- Her: “A group of friends are mates, and a single friend is a mat.”
- Lance: “Peeps or homeys.”
I did AMOG one Italian guy who was hitting on the Irish gal (Italian guys have no game), simply by being louder and more interesting. If I had an additional 30′ I might have gotten somewhere with this girl, but something happened…
The Language of Love Failed Me
…and that something was Lola! Lola was seated at a Tiki bar not 20 feet from where I was seated with the Irish lasses. I noticed her, and I noticed her noticing me. She looked awesome, in a sexy dress, and I immediately shifted gears. My new goal was to re-attract Lola and pull her back to the Sex Palace for another U.S.-Dominican romp.
I waited and kept talking to the Irish Chick. My strategy here was to not seem too eager and simply wait 5 minutes before approaching Lola.
I waited for 5 minutes and opened her. Remember, beyond “buenas noches,” I don’t speak a lick of Spanish, and she doesn’t speak a bit of English. So any type of verbal game was out of the question. I immediately went for kino but that went nowhere fast. I was getting stonewalled.
Again, not wanting to seem too eager, I ejected from Lola, found my friends, chatted for a bit, and re-opened her maybe 10 minutes later. I did this a couple of times. Each time I got nowhere. Something was definitely up.
Towards the end of the night, probably 2:30 am, my pals were ready to leave. I tried one last ditch effort and simply asked her in shitty Spanish if she wanted to go back to the casa.
Her answer: “No.”
Well shit then! Right after that happened she was opened by a guy, late 30’s, Caucasian, who apparently knew her, and they relocated to a table and started talking. Ugh, this was the worst kind of blowout, the kind where a chick you’ve already slept with blows you out for another dude right in front of you. That sucked, and I was definitely on tilt after that happened.
In the end, my boys spirited me back to the house. I will freely admit, I was a bit dejected, and more than a little perplexed as to what happened. Afterall, we had just connected 24 hours previously. Why not a second go around? Was she on a date? Did she think I was a douchebag? What gives?
In my next post, I’ll explain what I think happened, and offer the finale to the trip.