It was a rainy Saturday afternoon and I had just spent most of my hard earned paycheck on skirts and shoes.  I bought a Vogue and headed to my favourite hotel bar to wind down the day with a glass of red.  My favourite bartender was on and welcomed me like an old friend.  Ah… I love this bar.  There was only one other sitting there at the bar and as soon as I walked in and took stock of the place, I noticed him.  An actor.  Always secondary roles but in some very high profile films such as Braveheart, The Gladiator and The Saint.

I pulled up a chair just one seat away from him, knowing full well that he would strike up a conversation with me.  I ordered my glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and sank back in my high stool with my Vogue.  I wasn’t there for 5 minutes when he spoke to me.  Asked me where I was from, etc.  I played it cool, as you do with movie stars.  Treat them as though they are a regular Joe.  It always works, play right into my hands.  He had a very sexy accent and I had to ask where he was from.  Glasgow.  Hot.  I remember him most in a role as a Russian and that’s what sticks out for me.  But hello Scotland.  Even better.

Mr. Glasgow already seemed a bit blotto’d.  He told me he was terribly bored in Vancouver and he’d only been there for 5 days.  Two more weeks to go and he was ready to slit his wrists.  So tragic really.  I completely understand his pain.  Vancouver does seem a bit boring… compared to Los Angeles anyway.  Especially if you’re up here for 3 weeks and don’t know a soul.  He asked me if I would show him around.  Hmmm…. I can play tour guide really well.  Especially when it’s for a hot Scottish actor.  But did he know that I’d rather do an indoor tour… of his hotel room?  He suggested a shopping trip.  My favourite!  Especially if he was paying.

The Scot ordered some soup and I re-immersed myself into the world of John Galliano.  I couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Glasgow was drinking white wine like it was water and was already on his 4th glass of wine, while I was still on my first - I had only been there 15 minutes, cut me some slack.  He offered to buy me another glass.  I obviously had some catching up to do.

I was actually starting to feel a bit sorry for the bloke.  It was only 4:30 in the afternoon and he was completely wasted.  He seemed morose and depressed.  I suddenly didn’t want to go shopping with him anymore, I wanted to care for him like a wounded puppy instead.  Strange but true.  After his 6th glass of wine (I was only half way through my second), he asked for his bill and said that he was just going to run up to his hotel room to freshen up then would meet me in 15 minutes to go shopping.  He got up to leave and was walking out of the bar when he fell flat on his face.  It was awful.  The bartender tried to help him up but Mr. Glasgow told him to fuck off.  I instantly knew that he wasn’t going to come back down.  That was it - he’d just lost all dignity.

I finished my glass of red and had a brief chat with the bartender.  I ended up leaving a note for Mr. Glasgow in case he decided to show his face in there again.  Why not?  I had nothing to lose.  Maybe he’ll call… I’d be up for a romp.  I’ll keep you posted…

My Lessons from a Bar Stool:

Lessons for the Ladies:

1.  Don’t go somewhere with a man who can’t stand up because he’s had too much to drink.  Save it for another day.  You won’t have a good time.

2.  Treat actors as you would treat any other man out there.  If he’s acting like a douche bag, treat him like a douche bag.  No special treatment. (Ok… I’d still fuck Colin Farrell if he were acting like an ass… not gonna lie)

3.  Befriend the barman.  He will introduce you to others seated at the bar and give you information on other patrons when needed.

Lessons for the Men:

1.  If you are in a new town by yourself, absolutely ask a pretty girl to show you around the city.  It’s a great opening line.

2.  Don’t drink wine like it’s water.  Slow down, enjoy life.  You will regret it later when you fall on your ass.

3.  Do suggest a shopping excursion.  It will win your way into any girl’s heart.

-S.A.

It was a night that I’ll always remember, a night that led to a number of future memorable moments, a night that I almost skipped out on because I was “just too tired”.  It was New Years Day 2007 and I was in Melbourne for a couple of weeks.  I had had a rather debaucherous New Years Eve (as you do), which included an accidental midnight makeout with someone far too young for me and another makeout later in the night to make an ex jealous (I think it worked).

Waking up for the first time in 2007 was not exactly done with bright eyes and a fresh face.  I desperately wanted to pull the sheets back over my head and sleep for eternity, but the tiny twin bed built for a 10 year old that I was in and the 40 degree heat seriously crashed that fantasy.  Plus, I had another party to get to by 3:00pm.  Who knew Australians celebrated the New Year harder on the Day than on the Eve.  Perhaps I should’ve reconsidered that 4am bedtime.

This was predicted to be THE party of the year, held at the legendary Stoke House restaurant right on the beach in St. Kilda.  I could hear the music pumping two blocks away and was slowly getting some energy back into me.  I honestly wasn’t sure if I could face anymore alcohol though, it may have caused liver failure.  I met my friend Kate outside and we walked down the sweeping driveway into the party.  It was stiflingly hot inside the restaurant and thank god they had put up a tent on the front lawn and driveway.

Despite my fatigue and hangover, it really was impossible not to get into the party spirit.  I soon started to give’er on the d-floor and forgot all my woes - Australia has some of the best DJs out there.  It was when I went inside to the bar that the day got interesting.  I had perched on a bar stool to rest my feet and drink some much needed water, when I was approached by the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.  I thought I was delirious.  Actually, my first thought was that he must be gay.  No man this beautiful would approach me when I was surrounded by the most beautiful women in all of Australia.  I mean, I’m not a troll by any means, but I had bags under my eyes and was suffering from a bad hair day.  When he spoke, I almost fell off the stool.  His deep Australian (duh) accent was as smooth as butter, not the nasally annoying kind.  I’m not even sure exactly what he said to me.  It was a compliment and I automatically said thank you.  Then I turned into a person I’m not fond of.  I turned into the girl I was in highschool.  Timid, introverted, meek.  That girl rarely makes an appearance these days.  Suddenly a stiff drink sounded very appealing.

I returned to my friends and thought that was the last of the beautiful man.  It was a big venue, huge crowd, I’d never run into him again.  I was wrong.  He found me, hidden away in a corner.  He swooped right in and sat me down on a bench to chat.  He was tanned and tall, with dark hair, green eyes and the perfect lean body.  I still thought he was gay.  He was just being far too friendly.  He was too perfect to be straight.  He asked me about everything.  Where I was from, what I did, why I was there.  All of his attention was on me.  Then I found out about him and it only got better.  A doctor.  Living in London.  Hello.  He took my phone and put his number in it under “Dr. Jack”.  Hot.  He introduced me to all his friends and couldn’t take his eyes off me.  My friends thought he looked like a movie star.  I couldn’t believe my luck.

He eventually made his move and kissed me.  I can still feel him on my lips.  It was one of the sweetest, yet hottest kisses I’ve ever received.  So NOT gay.  Despite the soaring temperature, we were soon holding hands and snuggled up against each other.  A friend who hadn’t seen Jack for a long time came over and asked if I was his girlfriend.  He said yes, and once she had left, he asked me if I’d like to be his girlfriend for the rest of the day.  I really couldn’t say no, could I?  This was basically heaven.  It was when he asked if I’d like a pill that I realized that he was already high and that all this affection he was throwing at me was the ecstacy.  Hmmm… was this going to send me packing?  Nope.  I was going to take it where I could get it.  Especially when a man like this one was doling it out.

I politely declined the pill but he went for another.  And then he got dirty.  The snuggling went to another level.  I was wearing shorts… short shorts, with a long flowing tube top.  He slyly (very slyly) moved his hand down the back of my shorts and slowly moved his fingers lower and lower down until he surprised me with a finger in the bum.  I kid you not.  He actually did it… in front of hundreds of people!  Nobody saw… but still… bold move.  I was obviously caught off guard and a little (or a lot) uncomfortable and he slowly moved the hand back up.  It makes me giggle thinking who’s hand he may have shook later on with that finger.  HA.  Gross.

Before I knew it, it was almost 10:00pm.  That’s 7 hours of dancing and partying, 6 hours of kissing with Jack, 7 hours without food.  I was starving.  Jack’s friends were getting geared up to leave, so were mine.  Jack and I had other plans - he suggested a walk on the beach… aka a romp in the sand.  I was game.

We headed outside and reality struck.  It was like a fantasy world at the Stoke House and coming into the harsh real world was a bit of a shock.  It was only 10:00 and people were still milling about in the moonlight.  There were even small children out.  I felt like we had been missing from Melbourne for days.  I was suddenly cold, hungry, exhausted and felt like I needed a good hour long shower.  Regardless, we walked on to the beach, Jack with his arm around me, pulling me in protectively as though he could read all of my thoughts.

We found ourselves a patch of sand and moved in for the makeout.  Jack had more than a makeout in mind, and I quickly got on the same page as him.  Let’s just say, we should win an award for doing the things we did while fully clothed and surrounded by people.  Well… if not an award, definitely a fine.

We parted ways that night on the beach but Jack certainly didn’t lose contact.  Saucy texts, emails and phone calls followed, plus one rather steamy night in London.  I have to say though, definitely not marriage material that one.

My Lessons from a Bar Stool

Lessons for the Ladies:

1. It is absolutely possible to meet beautiful men when you are not feeling you are at your best.  Just fake it.  They will never know.

2. Do not automatically assume that a man is gay just because he is paying attention to you, is being oddly friendly and is physically perfect in every way. He may just be on drugs.

3. When a man offers you something it doesn’t mean you have to say yes.  If you don’t want to do drugs or have another drink, don’t do it.  You don’t need to please him that way.

Lessons for the Men:

1. Do open up and have conversations with women when they are least expecting it.

2. If you’re a doctor, lawyer, astronaut, etc. don’t flaunt it.  Keep it on the down low and just casually mention it when the time is right.

3. Don’t stick a finger up a girl’s bum in a crowd, keep it for behind closed doors.

-S.A.

I was in the bar and  too drunk to sit on a stool, although I was leaning on the bar flirting up a storm with the bartenders, with a foot on the stool. I was at a stagette and it was around 11pm, but the night was not young - we had started early at 9am that morning. After a few free drinks and a devilish proposition from the cute bartender, I headed over to the dance floor with my girlfriends. We were swarmed with younger men who seemed to be loving us. If you ever want to attract men, just pretend you’re on a stagette. The outfits break down the entrance barrier and give men something to talk to you about. Also, Whistler is a great town. It’s full of young, foreign men. Meow. I firmly believe that getting away from your daily surroundings does wonders for the pick up. The only problem is, Whistler is not very far from Vancouver, and your actions may come back to bite you. For example, I had run into a bunch of my ex’s friends in the back of the bar. Of all places and weekends. Thank god the ex wasn’t there - since I was still sleeping with him, he would have been a major cock block.

I was dancing up a storm, and suddenly I needed to pee.  The floodgates had been opened - you know what that’s like. I grabbed one of my friends and we hopped off the dance floor and headed to the wc. As I was walking off the dance floor I noticed this hot guy… so hot that my tongue practically wagged out of my head like one of those cartoons. He caught my eyes and smiled. I melted. He tried to grab me as I walked by, but I said I was going to the washroom and would be back. Not the best first impression, I know. But I had to go, what’s a girl to do?

I came out of the wc and saw my target. He was wearing a light green t-shirt, faded and just perfectly fitted jeans and he had a beautiful face and bod. My liquor injected courage kicked in and I walked up to him, smiling as I passed. I turned around and held out my hand to invite him on the dance floor. He broke into a large grin and grabbed my hand. Wow -  that was simple, I thought. Now what? We danced and holy crap, this boy had moves. I thought I was going to O on the dance floor. The tension was huge between us, but better yet he was a perfect combination of fun and interesting. He, Kevin, offered me a drink and I declined politely saying I should slow down. Did I forget to mention he was Australian, had an accent and a tan? Squirt.

After a few songs, Kevin left me for a beer but quickly returned two minutes later, grabbing me from behind. Fuck me now. Would it be rude to take him back to the hotel while my girlfriends are all partying, and fuck his brains out? I’m not normally like this. You are probably thinking by now, “Yeah, right”. But seriously: I am shy, I am timid, and I am not a whore. But, this man was making me want it bad. I couldn’t look at him as I just wanted to grab him and make out, but he should make the first move, right? I kept looking down at his shoes, which by the way were fucking hot. Yes, men’s shoes can be hot. They were fashionable, but not too metro. The kind of shoe that makes you do a double take because you know that man is not from around here. He asked me if I wanted my space to be with my friends, said he didn’t want to intrude on a girls night. I shook my head no and he moved in closer, tipped my chin up and kissed me softly. I reciprocated and it got steaming hot. We broke and kept dancing and kissing and dancing and kissing, until finally we were just kissing. Yes, we were that annoying couple in the bar that can’t keep their hands off each other and should really just get a room.

Before I knew it the last song was playing, a slow one and guess what, it was one of my favorites, Barry White - Let’s Get It On.  Cheesy I know, but oh so perfect in that moment. He took my waist tenderly and pulled me into him. He didn’t kiss me, but just put his head next to mine and started to sing along. Fuck, he could sing too. A few lines later he kissed my cheek and then my neck, moving over to my mouth. I’m done. Can you fall in love in two hours?

The song ended and we stood there staring at each other. I didn’t know what to say. He smiled and told me that he would be in Vancouver the next night and could he take me for dinner. You see, this is the sad part. He had been in Whistler for a week and was leaving for London Monday morning. He was about to start working his way back to Sydney, Australia.  I took his cell and dialed my number, saying to him, “Okay, now my number is in your phone”.  He offered to walk me back to my hotel and as we walked holding hands, he started to tell me more about himself. His mom had been sick for the past five years, so he had wanted to travel earlier on in life but felt he couldn’t leave her as he was the only child and his father had passed away. He played rugby, loves the outdoors, loves to travel, plays the guitar, hates cold weather, but would like to return to Vancouver to live for a few years. I’m at this point convinced that he is my soul mate. We arrived outside my hotel and he leaned in for another kiss. He stopped and held me in his arms; I heard him asking himself rhetorically under his breath, “Is it supposed to feel this right so soon?” I pulled away, almost afraid of what was going on between us.

We walked in the hotel lobby and all of a sudden I felt nauseous. I ran to the washroom and vomited. Oh good god, now I have vomit breath and no gum. I came out of the wc and he was leaning against the wall. Oh my, he is a god. But I couldn’t go near him, I smelled. So I said thanks for the great night and turned and walked away. I know, how horrible. I was drunk and sick. Not a good combo. I vaguely heard him say something about dinner the next night, but I didn’t stop to say anything as round two was coming up in the back of my throat. What the hell has happened to me?

I got into the hotel room and vomited a few more times. No one was there. I could be doing so much more. I hoped to god he would still call me. A few hours later I got a text asking how I was from a number I didn’t recognize. I sent a text back saying sorry I left so suddenly, I felt very sick, but that I was looking forward to dinner tomorrow. I put down my cell and went to sleep. In the morning I get another text from the same number asking me how I felt and what did I do last night? I was confused and texted back. Turns out it was my sister texting me from her boyfriend’s phone.

Hung to the tits the next morning, all us girls went for breakfast. I choked down some toast and coffee. As we were walking back to the hotel to pack up, my girlfriends started drooling over how hot some guy was. My head was pounding, I looked like hell and the last thing I felt like doing was checking out boys. But I looked over and almost crapped myself. It was him. I looked away quickly and wanted to run. He can’t see me like this. Plus, my liquid courage was gone. The girls said, and I quote, “Holy fuck, that’s who you were making out with last night?! Why didn’t you take him down?” They bugged me to go and say hi, but I was stubborn (secretly a fat chicken) and kept on walking. I think if he was interested, he would have come over. Wait, did he see me?

Regrets ladies, regrets are those things that will add up and give you wrinkles. I never got a call, I never had dinner, and I never saw or heard from him again. I’ll never know if he had my number, because frankly I don’t know if I hit send on his phone. Moment lost.

Lessons from a bar stool:

Lessons for the ladies:

1. Know your sick limit, don’t drink too much.

2. Always carry gum in your purse.

3. Be honest and be confident. Open yourself up to rejection. What’s the worst that can happen?

4. Don’t let the good ones go, and if you did have the kahuna’s if you get a second chance.

Lessons for the men:

1. Learn how to dance. If you don’t have rhythm, buy it. Girls love a man who can move.

2. Do offer to leave a girl alone. It allows them a way out and if they take it without offering their number, then they aren’t into you and you are wasting your time.  Don’t waste anymore of it.

3. Make the first move. Yeah, yeah woman’s lib is in and all, but we are romantics at heart and want you to take charge and be the man. Oh and don’t ask if you can kiss her first, just do it.

-W.T.

I was sitting at a very large, round bar in Tarifa.  If you haven’t been there, Tarifa is a small town on the southern tip of Spain. It’s known for its great wind surfing and also happens to be one of the gateways over to Morocco, where I was headed for the next few weeks.

Round bars, these are my favorite types. They allow you to not only meet the people you are sitting next to but you can also make eyes at everyone sitting across from you. They are loads of fun and I definitely suggest finding one in your city. I’m still searching for one in Vancouver that people get up and dance on top of.

This place where I was drinking, and subsequently spending the night, was owned and run by a very hot Italian man named Luca. Imagine this - perfectly tanned, body of a surfer, shoulder length hair bleached from the sun, accent, perfect teeth and wearing only surf shorts all the time. Not to mention a pile of fun and so free spirited his energy was contagious. Is this what happens when you are a pro wind surfer and you spend half your time in Brazil and Spain? If so, sign me up.

I had arrived from Granada, saying goodbye to all the wonderful Aussies I had met. I was a bit apprehensive about going to Morocco on my own, but going is better than not knowing. So here I was, sitting at the bar about to order a drink. I was tired from the trip and wondering if I should stay put and learn to surf with Luca or head straight over to Africa in the morning, tough decision. As I sat sipping on my rum and coke pondering my next move, a few boys entered the bar. They came and sat next to me and ordered a round. They all had different accents - one was Welsh, one English and the other Australian. They had just arrived into town and had met each other in the grocery store. They had wanted to cook up a nice dinner and naturally invited me to join them over a hot meal on the picnic table outside. I sat and had the boys serve me stir-fry and wine. Afterward, the four of us walked through a trail out to the beach. Fantastic, there was Africa. I never realized that Africa was so close to Spain, it looks like you could just swim over. Well, minus the sharks and the crazy currents.  It was so windy that the sand was pelting us and we were getting blown here and there and everywhere. Laughing, we decided that the four of us would leave for Africa in the morning.

We headed back to the bar, and later on, I met two other Canadians guys who were also leaving for Morocco the next day. They invited me along with them, but I had already committed to the others and these two were leaving on the 5am ferry. Seemed a tad too early after my night at the bar. It’s funny the paths you take. Each decision can lead you down a new direction and you could end up somewhere completely different. Or maybe you’ll end up just where you belong?

The next morning I said goodbye to Luca, who I really should have tipped over. I blame my man friends. Men can really be cock blocks. We headed over to Tangier and discussed our plans. Will, the Brit, was only coming across for the day as his vacation was up and he had to head back to work in London. Guy, the Aussie, was planning on sticking around for a month or two and really wanted to hike the Atlas mountains. Me and the Welshman had a similar schedule and we both wanted to see the Sahara. After a tagine lunch in Tangier with Will, we headed off to Chefchaouen, the white and blue washed city in the mountains. Also known as Morocco’s leading producer of hashish. Good times. In Chefchaouen, the Welshman and I split off from Guy who was heading off on a trek and we made our way down to Fez. I think this is where it first happened - the possibility that this trip could be much more than we had planned on. I guess it didn’t help that we were sharing a room.

We were sitting on a roof top having dinner with a view of Fez all around us and the  melancholic hum of chanting from the mosques in the near distance. We exchanged life stories and before I knew it, the two of us were sharing intimate details from our past. Things maintained platonic between us until we hit the empty desert. It would have been nice if he had discussed our marriage with me prior to informing our tour guides that we were on our honeymoon. The Welshman explained that he felt that he had to pretend that he was my husband, since a few men in the gateway town had approached him to inquire of my trade for a herd of cows. I’m still not sure if he was serious.

So off we went into the Sahara desert for four days, as husband and wife. For four days we slept in the same berber desert tents, alone and side by side, and me thinking, “If only I was attracted to this man”. He just wasn’t my type, physically or mentally. Although I must admit, I may have led this poor guy on. Usually I can blame alcohol consumption on my slipping standards and loose lips. Here, in Morocco, all I had to blame was mass consumption of mint tea and perhaps dehydration?

We made tagine with nomads living in the dunes and under the full moon he sang a few lovely songs while playing along with the bongo drums. I am a total sucker for musicians and a good voice. Later on, we climbed up the tallest dune in sight and sat down together and stared at the full moon. He sat behind me and wrapped his arms around me, and it was here that I changed my mind and decided that this was the kind of guy I was looking for. No more of this “stay at home and be safe and waste your life on materialistic things”, like many of my exes. That night he kissed me goodnight, to which I responded with an “I shouldn’t”, as I still had a sort of boyfriend at home. This was a blatant lie. Even with these amazing surroundings and experience and my recent revelation, I still couldn’t fake it, I just wasn’t attracted.

He tried a few more times as we made our way back up to Spain. Once in Casablanca, I let it slip to second base (it had been awhile). In Seville, I made him cum with just a kiss. I know, what a horrible turn off for me. I just couldn’t ignore the fact that I had zero chemistry towards him. Even if our first marriage was very short lived, this man and I shared a spectacular and unforgettable experience in our lives together. We still keep in touch here and there and I’ve kept a lovely note he handed me when we parted ways in Seville.  “I will never forget our time together, you sexy minx, you. Now get out there and love your life.”

My Lessons From a Bar Stool:

Lesson for the Ladies:

1. Never pass up an opportunity to try new things and go new places. You never know who you might meet or what you might learn.

2. Don’t try and imagine that you could be attracted to someone. It’s either there or it’s not. Some can grow on you with personality, but trust me, you need that initial cfmn.

3. Don’t share a room with a guy, unless you plan on getting kinky.

Lessons for the Men:

1. Do cook dinner for a lady. And do the dishes too.

2. Learn how to sing. It will get you laid, unless you are tone deaf.

3. Don’t cum in your pants. Seriously dudes, be prepared and spank the monkey.