Remember the unnamed Person of Interest from the Immigrant Pub plug?
Truth is that I met another pretty famous, potentially under the radar chick while here (aka — not a Czech supermodel). She was a blonde bombshell that I met the first day (Saturday) and we spent the night together drinking and just enjoying the company at the Immigrant Pub and then onto the Main Square and Sherlock Holmes’ Pub.
I practiced my Czech while she was relatively fluent in English. Now she was attractive and had the body of a goddess (seems to be a recurring theme here), but you could tell that she wasn’t really trying to be hot or stand out. She was just a normal chick. No supermodel this time.
After a lovely evening, she invited me to her place and I was trying to play it cool. It didn’t want to appear too eager but also didn’t want to come across as an asshole and blow her off. So I said to her that I was unsure if I should since we didn’t really know each other — and that I was a stranger in a strange land and that she could be setting me up. She assured me that this was no scam, she just wanted to continue the date and have somebody to talk to. And it was actually sincere, which I know when I hear it because, well, I’m kind of a dick in most respects… so it is usually everything that I am not.
When we got to her apartment — which amazingly enough was just about three streets over from my hotel (which is great, in case I need to use the bidet again) — she gave me the tour. And the tour was a memorable one. First, she got out her “best friend” — which was this adorable floppy-eared bunny that would have made anybody’s face melt. I used to have bunnies and this little gal was just like I had remembered my lop. Same color, same demeanor, but she had something that was super awesome. She was a miniature lop but when you pet her, her ears unflopped and stood out like helicopter propellers.
She then grabbed me an Urquell — which I’m not sure if it was the location, the company or whatever — but it was the best beer I’ve ever had. I know that people say Guinness tastes better off Dublin taps, but this Urquell tasted nothing like the pissy stuff I’ve had in the States (of the same name). It was even better than some of the Czech beers straight off of the tap in Prague. Then she showed me pictures of her family that were up on the wall. One picture, in particular, struck me. It was a girl in high school (I’m guessing), similar to the yearly pictures that you would have in school. The
nerd girl, as you can see, had brown hair, parted in the middle and wore glasses.
I inquired if she had a sister.
“No, that is me, a couple of years ago. I’m not a natural blonde.” I looked at the picture and looked at her, picture, her, picture, her… and then said that I could definitely see it now. She mentioned that no boys ever liked her because she was “‘Ugly Duckling’ is how I think you understand.” And as you can see, she may have been on to something.
“I keep it up there as a reminder…”
A reminder of what, I asked, but she didn’t continue. I then asked if I could take a picture of it… “as a reminder” for me — because for some reason I was taken aback by it. I saw a beauty in it. Like how people find the Mona Lisa to be beautiful even though it’s a fucking ugly chick, a fucking ugly portrait and a fucking ugly painting.
But I saw the beauty that was there. I think it was in the smirk that I found something beyond the nerd look. Almost like she knew something well before anybody else did in her school. It is like the face of “I’m going to show you all up, just you wait.” Go back and look at throughout this post, you’ll begin to see what I mean. Amazingly, she agreed to let me photograph it.
“You are very sweet,” her angelic voice said, “come with me, let me show you the rest of the apartment.”
She showed me the bedroom and then her walk-in closet and then the bathroom that had a shower similar to what you would find in a high-end hotel room. It was just an open space with a fixed glass partition floor to ceiling. Without getting into the finer details of what took place next, lets just say that within three minutes I am looking at yet another “best body I’ve ever seen in my life”. The freaking Czechs and their bodies are just stupid hot. All natural and well, luscious.
Now that is not a slap to any other body I’ve seen in the flesh because I have been incredibly fortunate in my day (including that particular day which had produced some fabulous flesh already), but this was just another example of hand-crafted perfection. Everything was perfectly proportional and seriously stunning. It was like the best Christmas present you ever got as a child, but about 100X better.
Ever see The Reader with Kate Winslett? It was like that except I wasn’t a teenager, she could presumably read because I wasn’t asked to for her, and her body was better than Kate’s. So I guess it wasn’t like The Reader at all. But there was nakedness. A lot of it.
Needless to say, I didn’t make it back to my hotel that night. No sex (you would think it’d be a super blue ball day for me — but it was actually a nice thing to potentially wait for). You’d be amazed at how erotic just laying naked with somebody can be. And after a proper breakfast back at my hotel, she went to get blonder and visit family but not before getting my hotel room number. She called my room around noon on Sunday and asked to meet up again and if I wanted to come with her to dinner (at 4 pm). I told her that I didn’t have transportation to her grandmother’s house (where she was at) and that I was thinking about looking around the town. She then insisted on having a taxi come and pick me up.
I met her family and I told them that I was on vacation from America and that it was my first time in Europe other than being to England. I spoke of Prague and Budapest and what I’ve done. They talked about their daughter, spoke English better than half of the people that live in our country, and treated me to a smorgasbord of Czech deliciousness. But at 5 pm, Americans aren’t ready to eat, so I barely had anything food wise (as amazing as it was).
They weren’t even weirded out that their college-aged daughter (in her 20s) was bringing a 31-year old “home” to see them. I was treated like a friend they’ve known for years. She and I went back towards my hotel and attempted to go to Immigrant again — but were too pissed to remember how to get there. I blame her for that one — she lives here. Anyway, after walking around aimlessly we just went back to my hotel room. And and once again spent the whole night together. But not before I had to do the American thing and run out to KFC for food just after 10 pm. I introduced her to NFL too — which was playing on my computer. No sleeping once again. But once again, no sex either. I spoke about my family and tried my best to explain what living in America is like… she’s been there — but only to major cities. She didn’t quite get it. She tried though!
I haven’t slept for two days, but I haven’t been tired. Well, I’ve had power naps but nothing worthy of more than 2 hours at a pop — which isn’t really sleeping. Monday I recharged my batteries while she went to class at Masaryk for several hours. Universities in Europe are a bit different than in the United States. In fact, she only has classes on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday but it was for like a full day. I can only equate it to block scheduling. I noticed this in Prague as well. All of the schools on Charles University campus (which are buildings interspersed throughout Prague) had weird not-everyday-scheduling too.
Monday night was pretty low-key. We went to Immigrant again and then back to her place. We did finally take the plunge after taking it slow for two days. It’s funny how in high school in the 1990s, taking it slow meant 6 weeks before getting to second base, 6 months before getting to third and dumping the girl before sex ever happened because you were wholly frustrated about the pace of play. Now, “taking it slow” means a 48-hour trial.
But it wasn’t sex, it was making love. There was emotions and feelings and whatever other girl shit is associated with “making love”. But it was nice too. A nice change of pace from what has happened thus far this trip.
Last night, I actually said goodbye and that I would miss her (and actually meant it too) because I didn’t know when I’d be leaving for the train in this morning. I retreated back to my hotel, got exactly 3 hours of sleep before the sunlight poked through the skylights and woke me at 7:07 am. I got up, thrashed around, grabbed breakfast and planned to get on the 8:24 am train.
However, I had an 8 hour train ride ahead of me and I knew that a big breakfast + heavy alcohol + a hearty dinner + an 8 hour train ride would equal disaster. So I reassessed and opted for the 11:02 train instead. Hindsight 20/20 = best decision of my trip. I had one last chance to destroy the bathroom, one more session with the bidet and a chance to at least have a shot at Serendipity. Since I didn’t have her number, I just left a note with the front desk of my hotel and said that “If somebody (a woman) tries to find out if I am still here or not, can you inform her that this is my train? It leaves at 11:02 from Brno Hlavni. Thank you.” I hung in the lobby until about 10:30 before walking down with my bags to get situated.
She already had my cell phone but knew that I didn’t have it with me — so trying to contact it would have been fruitless, as I wouldn’t retrieve it until I was back stateside in a month’s time.
Brno Hlavni is about .6 km from my hotel, and its downhill, so it wouldn’t take very long to get there should she get the note. And as I waited on the train deck to move towards Krakow, she appeared seemingly out of thin air — iPod trances do that sort of thing (obviously having been informed as to my whereabouts). She asked me for my Skype name so that we could stay in contact (she heard me talk about it as to how I stay in touch with my mom despite not having a cell phone)… and then promptly planted a kiss on my lips and said, “I have to tell you something…”
That’s never a good sentence.
As I stood there my mind began to race, and visions of Jason Bourne movies flashed through my brain. What could she tell me? That she’s KGB, espionage, pregnant or sick… that she needs money, isn’t who she says she is… or that my technique is weak, I’m in great danger, she used to be named Carl… what?
But in my heart of hearts, I already knew what she was going to say. I knew it all along. And I knew that she was apprehensive to talk because we had such a great time together, and goodbyes are never a good thing. So I eased her pain, looked at her, and spoke instead:
“You don’t have to be sad or afraid, I know… you’re Katarina Hartlova, the porn star.”
She nodded, teared up and then said, “I love you.”
Yes, it’s true. I made a fucking hot porn star “fall in love”. In all of three days. And she’s already Skype’d me twice today while I was sitting on the train. Normally I wouldn’t have the luxury of WiFi but this businessman guy has a hub space and I’m stealing it from 4 rows back. Czech mated.
If I do nothing else until the day I die… I can definitively say that I have succeeded at life after this time in the Czech Republic. Brno was definitely quality over quantity but I’ll take it.
And I mean it.