The night I was such a bad ass

There was a time in my life when I had a crush on Spain. I spent there two summers in a row, enjoying the view, the art, the accent, the rebajas (my very favorite word in Spanish) and especially the ice cream and the sangria. Not at the same time, though. My days there were mostly peaceful and quiet and so inspirational.

The men are handsome in Spain. Not as handsome as in Greece, but still…For example, while in Fuengirola, on Costa del Sol, I couldn’t wait to go to the beach to check out this mysterious dark, tall, gorgeous guy, that was enjoying the sun in front of our hotel, every day, by himself. My boyfriend back then didn’t notice I was checking him out because he was busy checking him out, too. He was that handsome! I mean the stranger was handsome, not my boyfriend.

One of the girls in our group was single, so it was a matter of very few days until she and the beach boy started talking. I was happy for all of us. They put an end to their solitude and I could take a closer look at the beautiful stranger without leaving the impression that I am a psycho.

The guy told our friend he is from Morocco  and that he paints apartments for a living. Our friend thought he was very poor so each time he would go to buy drinks she would say she was fine and then would go by herself to buy her own drink and buying him one, also.  She was feeling such a pity for him, I was afraid at one point she would give him cash.

I wasn’t on the same page with her, because some things didn’t match the picture: he was wearing Ray Ban sunglasses, he had a Ralph Lauren beach towel and designer swim trunks, I forgot which designer, I am very bad with designers, to be honest. Not to mention he was at the beach all day long. Even if he was painting apartments at night, it would have still been impossible for him to be at the beach morning till evening, because he would need to sleep sometime during the 24 hours of a day, right?  I told my friend something was wrong but she laughed at me, saying something about how I never see the bright side, or something. Which is totally untrue, I am a sunny side up kind of girl, and not only in terms of how I like my eggs. Anyway, she didn’t mind my doubts. And I totally understand her, he was so damn hot!

One evening, we all went out to a pub. The Morocco boy brought a Spanish friend with him. This Spanish friend didn’t speak English, but my friends and I spoke a bit of  Spanish so we got along just fine.

At one point, the Spanish boy moved at the bar and in a few minutes a cute blonde girl approached him. They talked for a while or at least that is what they seemed to be doing. Then he came to our table, asking my friend and I to join him and help him talk to the girl, because they were having a language barrier between them, as she didn’t speak Spanish and he didn’t speak English. So we helped them:

Blonde girl to us: Tell him I need one gram.

My friend and I, looking at each other and laughing: Hahahaha, she must take you for somebody else. She asks if you can give her one gram. Hahahaha.

Spanish boy, very serious: Sure, tell her I will be back in twenty minutes.

And he went to the table, told something to the Morocco boy and both of them left. My friend and I got stuck with the British crack head, that was slowly losing it. She was biting her nails, feeling very sick and asking us every other minute:

“Where do your friends live? Is their stuff good? When are they coming back? They said twenty minutes. It’s not twenty minutes yet?”

We kept her spirits high (ok, I make puns, look at me!)  until “our friends” returned then off we went and went straight to our rooms.

What happened the next days was that we got back to our quiet days enjoying the sun, the sangria, the art, the ice cream and learned to live again without dealing drugs.  I am proud to say the Morocco boy never stepped on our beach again. We made a cocaine dealer change his spot, yes we did! Well, at least until we finished our holiday. And so you know, we only helped him deal out of our good hearts. And because we didn’t know what else to do with the British crack head.

26 thoughts on “The night I was such a bad ass

  1. Doggy's Style says:

    I’m with sakuraandme, I was expecting a deranged night of lust and passion.
    Really nice tho, who were a drug dealer assistant for a night.
    I feel sorry for your friend, she could have gotten drinks for al of you.
    Live and learn.


  2. Rohan 7 Things says:

    Haha, you are a bad ass 🙂 God, what a bullshitter “I paint apartments” lol

    Got to watch out for those handsome guys, not all of them use their powers for good haha!

    Thanks for sharing, I want a holiday in Spain now!



    1. Lavinia says:

      Thanks for reading, Rohan. I want holidays every day, I was meant to be a tourist, I swear! :))) I can usually smell the bullshit on people, either they are men or women, beautiful or not. I went wrong few times but in general, I go with my instinct because history proved it works better than my brain:))))


  3. Squirrelly Writer says:

    All my pun-tastic brain could think of is that she said she needed one gram, and somehow those two words ran together and mutated into a different word and I thought, well, of course she does; every girl needs one, preferably every day. You are a badass, and you’re clearly meant to work for the Travel Channel. 😀


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