Vulgarian Christmas (6 of 8)

By: Jeanette Bergman

Unable to vent her sexual frustration on the ski slope, Jeanette stoops to attacking the local playground deer.

28 December

Equilibrium?

Drill Sergeant sends me to breakfast. Ah, nutrition. Even my appetite’s back. On my return I chat to Dave “about last night”. Seemingly, BH didn’t go out at all. I joke, “He must’ve realised there was no point when he heard I was staying in!”

“You’re in,” says Dave. Ah, I dunno about that. “Oh, and your barman saved your seat.” “Really?!” I reply, my voice and eyebrows rising!

Apparently, as some people were sitting in “my” spot, Nicky shuffled them along, got a seat for Dave and put one next to him “for your girlfriend”! Oh no! Dave then admitted he didn’t get a chance to correct him! Yeah right! Bastard! Looks like I’ll definitely have to set the record straight tonight!

So there we are now. It’s a crap day. I bought some H2O and cool perfume. Fire, writing, drinks and cards it is then.

29 December

Oh No, It’s Our Last Day!

And the “day,” at least, pretty much stayed that way. I reluctantly braved an English pub and read my Sylvia Plath book over a pint and chips ï¿½ how sad! Back at the hotel I had a few more beers with Dave, did some more (crap, but therapeutic) sketching and decided to get back into the nightlife!

Still not feeling entirely fantastic and looking entirely shite, I was hoping not to run into BH at dinner. He went to sit down next to me and fortunately realised the seats were taken. Phew! But, I decided I’d have to bite the bullet tonight anyway. Surviving the near-miss, Dave, Julie and I crack open the champagne we never had for David’s birthday (as we couldn’t quite face alcohol first thing in the morning) back at our room, and polish it off remarkably swiftly. Not so shabby for a Bulgarian Speciale! Back into form, I head out solo. I go to “Bowling Night” at the adjacent hotel to check out the craic, of which there’s very little, and even less bowling, so resort, not exactly reluctantly, to The Usual.

All Quiet On The Bulgarian Front it is, but I walk in to find Nicky and co. enjoying the calm before the storm, hangin’ out on the sofa. After the hellos, Nicky says, “Take a seat,” which I misinterpret as, “Whiskey?” Oh god ï¿½ clearly, the only words I’m comprehending now are alcohol-related! They laugh. I sit. On noticing my absence the night before, I tell him of my complaint, to which he says, “Would you like something for your throat,” to which I refrain from responding with what my dirty little mind is thinking!

I help myself to the cocktail menu from behind the bar, and well, can’t decide ï¿½ probably because I’ve tried them all! So, Nicky goes to get his special Bulgarian cocktail book with two recipes in English for Cosmopolitans and Metropolitans. As he promptly runs off to make me a Cosmo, I discover only he and his colleague Reny are graduates of Language School, so the remaining Balam, Vesko and I struggle to hold a conversation.

I sip, chill, and as the crowd begins to flow in, I’m left to my own devices. I prop myself at my awaiting seat. All is going well, as I again help the lads shake their cocktails as they throw them across the bar to me, and have a “complimentary” shooter with them. Nicky tells me it’s “Bulgarian Viagra!”

“Bring it on!” I sez!

They laugh. I ask him if it works. “Not for me,” he says. A disappointing response. It’s only in hindsight I realise I should’ve said, “I’m Australian Viagra!” We then have a red, green and white (Bulgaria’s national colours) shooter and all is well! That is, until “boyfriend” Dave walks in! The whole dynamic shifts, and when I demand he help set the record straight as planned, he responds by throwing his arms around me pretending we’re madly in love! I’m then OVER-charged for my previous cocktails, which were clearly going to be gratis! Dave says, laughing, “You’re buying sex!” As I really can’t argue with that, I say, “Yeah, but look at him!” He then proposes the hypothesis, “What will you do if BH walks in tonight?” I say, calmly, “He more than likely will. So?!”

Dave then puts the question, “Who would you go for if you had to choose?” My response is immediate and adamant, “Nicky. No question. BH is cute, nice and look at those hands, but look at him!” I say, blatantly pointing to Nicky, accompanied by my gesturing paws, “grrroowal!”

I decide to write another broken-Bulgarian note to Nicky ï¿½ for gaining linguistic knowledge you understand. Dave laughs, leaves me to it, and bids me farewell and g’luck. As always I say to Nicky, “Another word?” “Sure,” he says without hesitation, “Write it down in English.” I start, but wait for a little more Bulgarian courage to come up with “the appropriate conclusion.”

Meanwhile, as anticipated, Lou and BH arrive. The time passes (like it has another option?!), the beers flow, the bar gets busier, I definitely think I’ve a shot with BH, and decide he is actually quite sweet. Lou instantly notices my rapport with Nicky and says, “Whoa! Looks like someone’s got her own private service goon on there! You’re in!” I think, “Oh please!” at the same time as I think, “But what about your bro? Can I go there?” After all, he’s much more accessible than waiting for that boy’s “unsociable hours” to coincide with mine! Patience is a virtue an’ all, but, man, my drought is the overriding factor here!

I flirt with both and finish the note. I pass it to him with a grin. Expecting it to be “tonight’s word,” his face tells all! He reads it and says, “I’ll get back to you!”

It’s very busy now, but after a while he manages a reply, which looks like the exact translation of what I wrote, except for an obvious P.S., which I’ve no idea what it means, then signed off, “Kisses, Nicky.”

Aaaaaaargh, the frustration!! What does it say?! I ask him to schedule me in for a “translation”! He laughs, and says, “About 5, 6am.” Oh god. I guess that’s when things slow down and he gets a break. It’s very busy so I can’t really talk to him, so I throw the odd glance and flirt my arse off with BH. We chat about the awkwardness since Sunday night, and seemingly, we agree that it was a very nice kiss and we should perhaps try it again some time! Clearly, I’m going to have to let Roger-me-senseless-big-hands get the better of me! We drink. We talk. We dance. Of course I fancy the arse off Nicky (no, really?!), but what can I do?! Oh how I’d “love”‘ to have that translation lesson! It’s all very obvious what’s gonna happen next in the Colour-By-Numbers situation with BH.