Facebook Status: Aster is currently… bisexual – Woman Freaks Out Over Something Written On The Internet, Pulling Girls From Fast Food Establishments
“Tell me honestly – what kind of man is Robbie? Is he some kind of player?”
She called him Robbie… It’s short for Robbie Williams. His real name is Aster. English guy comes to Australia. Not even from the same part of England as Mr. Williams… bears a very vague resemblance… but somehow seems to have the exact same voice. Of course no one even mentions it when he’s in England.
So whenever a girl came up and said: “OMG you look EXACTLY like Robbie Williams!” – from there, it was pretty much game over.
“Well, is he some player or what?” Anastacia said again.
“What can I say… He is a rockstar.” I said with a cheeky grin.
She was basically asking a few questions at once. “Does Aster pick up a lot of women like this?” but the subtitles read: “Does he like me?”
Whereas my response was also conveying a few subtle layers of meaning like
1. I don’t really want to say how many women he sleeps with
2. Because it’s probably quite a lot; and
3. You can be his groupie (however, she probably took this as:)
4. He’s out of your league.
She got a little flustered after that. Somehow, I don’t think I was defending my wingman very well.
The night we met Anastacia and Alise… It was in exactly the same place, in the back smoking court at Transport bar.
I’m not sure how it happened, but I remember grabbing 35 year old Alise -
“We can’t do this! You’re too young!”
- and making out with her.
“Look, you’re too young – we’re never going to have a relationship!”
“Exactly!”
“No no no, we’re not going to have sex either!”
Five minutes later I was trying to pull, as in literally pull her through the crowded bar “Come on let’s go to Lord of the Fries! They have a menu of fries with sauces from all countries in the world. We can be international pom d’frit connoisseurs. You can be a neopolitan woman of the world or some shit. Trust me.”
“No, I can’t. You’re very cute though. I can’t go with you… You could have any woman here, there’s no reason to take me. Go find a nice young girl.”
“I’m gonna fuck you like crazy. You are going to scream, you dirty bitch.” I said, not quite loud enough to be heard, while she was talking to me.
“I can’t leave with you. You’re very lovely though.”
Extracting was kind of a sticking point of mine at that stage. But I’m like a terrier in this shit. You can’t stop me trying baby.
But for some reason eventually, I did give up on Alise. Twenty minutes later I’m on the far side of the smoking court. Dimitrius says to me “Hey bro, that old girl is sitting alone over there, staring at you.” I look over at Alise and wave, then turn to talk to some other girls.
Then I get a phone call – from Alise. She’s looking right at me from ten metres away.
“Hi. How’s it going over there.”
“Oh it’s wonderful. How are you?”
“Great.”
“Okay, well, just wanted to say hi.”
“Ha okay, see you.”
Then she hung up.
Meanwhile, about five metres away, Aster is hitting on Anastacia and she’s calling him Robbie. She’s a gorgeous 32 year old with jet black hair in a ponytail, and blood red lipstick, and lots of personality. Who knows what she’s like when she’s sober. Probably pretty cool.
She’d just gone through a divorce. They ended up back at her place.
They’d be making out, getting hot and heavy, clothes removed.
“I can’t do this – I’ve just gone through a divorce and everything… It’s just too soon. I’m sorry.”
“Okay, that’s fine.”
Five minutes later they were all over each other again.
This went went on in a cycle until they had sex about three hours later.
That night, I pulled a girl from Lord of the Fries.
“This 2 a.m. Lockout business is nasty,” she said. “Do you know where we can go?”
“Well, I do know this one place that’s too nasty not to be exempt. It’s called the Tankerville.”
“So it’s open? Sounds great.”
Then when the taxi came.
“So what is this place called again?”
“It’s called… my place.”
“Cool.”
When we had sex, I thought of my ex who had the same name as her. I’m not proud of that. Now, I know what sex should be, and I’ll never do that again. Not as in never have a one night stand – that I’ll probably do many muito muchos times. But when I have sex, it should be about feeling a woman’s beauty, not about cheapening it. Using a girl like a tissue? Gross. Even if you’re fucking a girl from behind and giving her the holy reaming with the mighty sceptre… you should never stray too far from the magic of the moment.
That’s really how a man should live his life.
The next weekend, I go out clubbing with Aster. He’s staying in Frankston. That is to say… He’s staying in the fucking sticks. I don’t know what happened to me that night, but it got past 1 a.m. Last train to Franger’s almost gone. Or to put it another way, the franger wasn’t out, and someone needed to be trained to come. Aster had this soundtrack playing in his head like “Get Laid or Die Trying”. He decides that rather than taking a $50 cab ride back to Frango, he’ll take a $15 cab ride to Ascot Vale, and bet on Anastacia being home.
“Oh! Hi Robbie! Come in!”
I suppose her interpretation of the meaning of this interaction would have been… different.
Next week, Aster gets a text message. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! I would have never slept with you if I knew!”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?’
“You. I did some research. I looked you up on Facebook and you’re bisexual!”
“Haha are you serious.”
“Yes I’m a serious. Some guy left intimate messages on your Facebook!”
Aster checked his Facebook and there was a message from his old (male) flatmate, ending with “miss you heaps xoxox” which was an old running joke they had: “Can you do the washing up, dearest? Thanks sweetie.”
He told me this and I was cracking up. I pulled out my phone, signed into Facebook and typed on his wall:
“thanks for last night pookie xoxox”
Eventually he convinced her that he wasn’t bisexual. But she refused to see him or speak to him.
Now there she was, in front of me at the smoking court at Transport.
“Hi Anastacia.”
“Hi… I think I recognise you but I’m not sure from where…”
“It’s Jones.”
“Oh… you’re Robbie’s friend!”
“That’s right.”
“You remember my friend Alise.”
“Oh… Hi.”
Alise was looking at me with big doggy bowl eyes. I put my arm around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I didn’t really care to tell her that I was seeing someone. She kept suggesting we should go sit down together. She said she still tells the story of the time a strapping young man tried to pick her up. I guess I made her year.
“So, Jones… let me ask you, about Robbie… is he some kind of player or what?”
“Well… you know…. he is a rockstar.”
She mentioned the Facebook bisexual fiasco and I just laughed at her.
She says “So, do you know if Aster is bisexual?”
“He’s not.”
“How do you know? How long have you known him?”
“About two months. I just know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he rejected all my advances.” I said in deadpan.
She looked at me for about five seconds, shocked. I think she realised I was joking.
She said something along the lines of “What a thoroughly morally reprehensible cad! I can’t believe him.”
Poor girl getting her heart broken over Facebook.
Just then, Aster walked in, with all his earthly possessions. One backpack.
“The Devil himself,” I said.
He’d just flown in on Qantas from Sydney. Drinks are free on Qantas evening flights. Aster had scored this job where he flew around Aus, three cities a week… interviewing nurses. And they paid him $1400 a week to do it.
I’m talking to Aster and this random cute blonde jumps into the middle of our circle and starts doing eeny meeny miney moe. I think I was moe. At this point I just think she’s some random that came over to flirt with me or us. Turns out she’s Anastacia’s friend and she wants to “sort this thing out between you two”.
I say things are fine between us two, we’ve sorted out all our differences, thanks for asking.
“No no… have you sorted this out with Stace yet?” she asks Aster.
Aster said “Well, no, she said she didn’t want to talk to me or see me so I figured that’s the end of that.”
Now I don’t know if this is exactly how it went down, but I remember her saying something like:
“Do you like her? Because she really likes you”
Somehow this reminds me of seven years ago, when I went to this underage nightclub, Crazy 8s. I was a rockstar there because I’d always put my balls on the line, liquid dancing like a crazy mofo in the round. Girls would come up to me and say (squeaky 15 year-old voice) “Will you get with my friend? She’s sixteen!” as if that alone were reason to make out with them.
Anyway, Aster is like “Well, you know, I enjoy her company.” Lana is trying to convince Aster to ask Anastacia on a date or something. Nothing doing. I think I ended up dancing with her and flirting with her. She was a genuine hottie.
All the drama with Anastacia… It kind of makes me wonder… do those sixteen year old girls ever really grow up? God bless them.
I don’t think Aster ever talked to Anastacia again after that night.
Then we left Transport, and I met up with Angelique and fucked her brains out. It was awesome.
Related Posts:
Comments (3)
Hahaha. Great story.
[Reply]
stumbled deluxe.
pookie
[Reply]
thanks sweetcheeks
[Reply]