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| Flashpacker | |
| By Cemiess | ||||||
| 11 May 2008 | ||||||
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A typical night out for a backpacker with mummy and daddy's money. No longer is it about seeing the world and enhancing your cultural experiences, but rather how much you can drink and how many times you can get laid. The second beer went down like water, and Jack was on a roll now. He slid back over to the brightly lit bar of the “Flashpackers”, surrounded by, it seemed, beautiful women and Irishmen. The bar staff were all English, the most experienced member had probably been working there no more than a week. Jack was pretty sure they were all focussing on serving their friends first, ignoring him as he waved the $50 note around. When the disinterested barmaid gave him the $4 schooner of XXXX, he almost skulled it in one, his mouth now dryer than a camel’s armpit. He turned around to fight his way through the idiots who had gathered behind him, blocking his path in their attempt to get to the bar. If they let him through, he thought, they could get to the bar quicker, but their eagerness kept them tightly packed around him. He elbowed one especially annoying guy in the side, apologising insincerely. Back with his “friends”, he strained to catch up with their conversation over the booming music. The song was one he had heard a hundred times already coming down the east coast of Australia, part of what seemed like a compilation album distributed to every backpacker bar in the country. Giving up on the conversation, he scanned the bar for “talent”. There were more beautiful girls here than he’d seen in an entire year in his small home town in South England, if he didn’t pull tonight, there was something seriously wrong, he thought. But this wasn’t the first time he had been in that situation, and he had had little success in the past. Ok, there was the fat girl in Byron Bay, the one his new friends had never let him live down, and the cute Aussie girl in 1770, who, being a local, had wanted to play the slow game anyway, but never any amazing sexual encounters that he could actually write home about. Tonight was different though. He’d been rejected enough times now to know what not to do, and he’d seen other people make it look so easy, now he was ready to take it all the way. Jack took a deep breath and returned to the conversation with his friends, where he threw in a few disjointed contributions. His mind was elsewhere, on getting a “root” for the night. He loved that word – it was so appropriate and so Aussie. “Fucking” was too erotic, and shagging had lost all meaning in his head. “Rooting” had that characteristic casual Aussie feel to it, and that’s exactly what he intended it to be, casual. A few beers later, and Jack had lost all concept of time, as well as his so called “friends”. Had they been real friends, he would have been able to find them again, but being just a group of random backpackers he had latched on to, they had no interest in him, as he had no interest in them. They were all too preoccupied with the girls, the same as he was, and most of them were probably already up to their balls in women by now anyway. Jack wasn’t sure if the hatred he felt towards them was more to do with jealousy or betrayal. He’d never felt like a true part of the gang, but he would always have been loyal to them, even if they barely knew he existed. “Fuck ‘em.” he thought. After a meditating trip to the urinal, Jack grabbed himself what must have been the eighth beer of the night, and strolled over to a pair of good looking girls at the edge of the room. The conversation started casually, with him just introducing himself and asking where they were from. It was the same conversation he’d had a hundred times, where have you been, where are you headed, how long are you in Sydney for, what has been your favourite place in Australia so far, etc. It was inane but part of the ritual now when meeting new backpackers. However, when that familiar conversation dried up, Jack began to struggle. He asked them what they were drinking, and if they wanted to dance, which they refused, and then there was an awkward “silence” which seemed louder than the actual music. He didn’t know what to do now, the conversation hadn’t evolved into anything and although he knew what he needed to do – make them laugh – he just didn’t have the first idea how. It was too late now anyway, he had set the tone of the conversation and to suddenly become wild and fun would have been inappropriate. So, trying to look cool, he excused himself. Outside, he sparked up a cigarette and looked at the ground, desperate to avoid meeting yet another backpacker and having “that conversation” again. However, due to a typical friendly Australian who had stumbled upon the bar, he failed to remain incommunicado. Luckily, 2 cigarettes were enough for the already wasted Australian guy and Jack was left in peace for a few minutes. Back in the bar, Jack remembered thinking when he left the girl in Brisbane, that another one would be along before he even knew it. He wasn’t surprised when he discovered that he was right, that’s the way it works as a backpacker. There was such a high turnover of people in every hostel, and in every bar, sometimes he only had to wait a matter of minutes for a new attractive person to enter his life. Usually it was at least a day or so though. He was always careful in the bedroom, so felt less guilty about playing the field nowadays. Warnings of STDs were posted in every public toilet he had been in, and despite using nothing but good judgment in the past, this was a different game now. Nobody played by the rules of back home out here, not even the sweetest, most innocent looking girls. Everyone had one goal, to get laid by as many people as possible. So protecting himself from all the scary things trying to attach themselves to his penis was imperative. He laughed when he remembered his friends and family telling him he might meet his soulmate on his travels. There was no way a relationship was going to come out of this. Was there? Well, if he was to find his dream girl, he was determined to have as much fun as possible along the way. Of course, if his “dream girl” turned out to be a backpacker, she would know the score anyway. The other thing of course is that all this “practice”, chatting up girl after girl, night after night, was giving Jack much needed experience. He was growing as a person, getting better every time, but also learning what women want, at least in the short term. He knew this would stand him in better stead when that dream girl did show up. He would be more exciting to her, more astute. This could only be a good thing. So the insignificant feelings of guilt disappeared and he resumed the chase, back in the bar. Fighting his way to the bar once again, he stood next to a beautiful blonde girl on her own, waiting to buy a drink. He smiled at her, she smiled back. He knew she was well out of his league, but he started talking to her anyway. As a result of him subconsciously thinking he was never going to get anywhere, Jack was a lot more relaxed than with the last girls. He was quick witted, flirty, and light hearted with her, teasing her like a bratty little sister. As they began to kiss, his body was alive with excitement. How the hell had he managed that? Oh no, now he had ruined it. As soon as he had stepped over that line and he realised that he actually had a chance with this girl, his psyche changed. Now he wanted her, so his behaviour would no longer be so carefree. His quick wittedness dissolved into a sea of insecurity. His success would now be his downfall. And so it was. It took about five minutes for the girl to realise the atmosphere between them change, and she didn’t waste any time saying goodbye either. Within minutes, he saw her with her tongue down someone else’s throat. Wondering what the hell he’d done wrong, Jack called her a slut in his head and went for another drink. This time at the bar he was to meet a slightly older Australian man, probably in his thirties, who introduced Jack to his group. There were 4 of them, all surfers from out of town, looking for some action. Only one of their names sunk in, and that was Brendon, the odd looking one. Jack had got terrible with names while backpacking, he just heard so many new ones every day that his brain could no longer process them. He tried to remember their names but couldn’t, so just waited until someone said them again. They were nice guys, Jack thought. It was refreshing to be chatting to some normal people instead of backpackers – at least only his side of the talking would involve that conversation. Eventually though, talk got onto the girls in the bar. Loaded up on Dutch courage, Jack approached a stunning young girl in front of his new friends and started up a conversation. It wasn’t the best conversation he could have hoped for, as her English wasn’t too great. All he could really find out was that her name was Lorna and she was from Austria. He decided to take a break from what was a rather difficult conversation and return to the boys. The look on Brendon’s face was comical, Jack laughed at first, thinking his over exaggerated scour was him just messing around. But looking at the others, Jack’s mouth dropped when he realised that Brendon was serious. “What’s the matter?” he asked one of the others. “You better not go near that girl again, he’s really mad. He likes her. Don’t mess with Brendon, he’s a bit crazy!” Jack was stunned. He thought it was a joke, but knew at once that it wasn’t. The whole group had turned hostile to him, for no reason! He had no idea that Brendon liked her, he would have stood back if he had said so, and now he knew, he was fine about leaving her, he was getting nowhere anyway. If Brendon liked her so much then he could go for it, Jack was cool with that. So why wasn’t Brendon going for it? Hang on, thought Jack – who the hell does he think he is? He has a tantrum so I have to back off a girl that he is too scared to even approach anyway? Screw him, nobody treats me like that, the arrogant little shit. He walked back over to Lorna. “I think my friend fancies you.” Lorna perked up. “Really?” Jack realised what he had done - he’d practically set them up. “He’s a bit screwed in the head, if you ask me.” Jack felt his foot in his mouth again – he had just implied that you need to be screwed in the head to like her. She didn’t get it though, and instead replied by saying that she didn’t mind crazy people, they were more fun. Furious, Jack stormed out for another cigarette. Outside there was just one girl on her own. She had curly black hair and was slightly overweight. Jack saw that she wasn’t bad looking, but he was definitely lowering his standards if he went for her. With absolutely no sincerity, he tried to begin a conversation. “Hi.” The girl looked him up and down, and, screwing her face up in disgust, flicked her cigarette and walked back into the bar. Jack’s eyes widened in disbelief – how could she reject me? He stood alone smoking and thinking, wondering what he was doing wrong. Was he too drunk by now? Was he just trying the wrong girls? Were they picking up on his ever increasing insecurity? It was certainly getting harder as the night went on. The good girls were going fast, and those left must have known that the boys were getting more desperate, so were playing even more “hard to get”. Back inside, Jack tried his luck on the dance floor. He was never much of a dancer, but he enjoyed to dance, and some songs would get him so involved that he would forget about women for a few minutes. For the most part though, he went through a quick fire seduction attempt exercise. One after another girls would shoot him down, each time his ego taking a beating, and he would become more and more upset. With every rejection anger built up, self esteem plummeted. Anger with himself, for not being gifted with a talent for getting every girl he wanted, anger with the girls for being so dismissive of such a caring, loving person, and anger with the competition. Every person that pushed passed him, every person that stood on his foot, every person that didn’t show him the respect he deserved, added more and more heat to an already burning rage. Why did this have to be such a cruel game! When he first discovered the backpacker world of sex he was overwhelmed – a constant stream of beautiful, single, horny girls, all ripe for the plucking, it was like a dream. But then the reality set in. Any that had been playing “the game” for more than a couple of weeks were now extremely fussy, even if they weren’t attractive. It was because they knew that at any one moment, there was a flood of guys waiting to chat them up. They could all afford to be extremely picky, and Jack was not the sort of guy they would choose. Then in front of him, he saw Brendon and Lorna. They were kissing and getting on great. Jack couldn’t believe it. He knew he never had a chance but he couldn’t believe that someone so immature and angry could get a girl as nice as Lorna. The muscles around his eyes felt tense. He felt like his blood pressure had increased in an instant, all the skin in his body feeling tighter. Jack’s fists clenched and his heart seemed to pause before letting out what seemed like an enormous pump, full of adrenaline. His vision blurred, and Jack literally saw red. About to explode in a violent eruption, Jack’s rationality kicked in. He could get deported for violence, and there was no way they were worth that. Once again, he restrained himself. Disappointed and drained, Jack went to bed alone.
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