Wednesday, March 2, 2011

22: It is but a number.

Time came running towards me, the number added, and i just kept getting older by the second.
It was that vicious number 22.

February 22, my girls and I hit the pubs (well more like, that one pub called "LiBeirut")
We started our routine with a round of shots, and slowly just another, we were all suddenly on one small, square, four-seater table, with shots slowly coming and going.
It was 12. I am 22. Oh the horror!! But i quickly forgot when i saw the pyramid of shots right under my face. One after the other until the shots were gone. Laughs, screams, bodies flying by me... It was without a doubt the most i have been approached, and seduced.

By girls.
That without mentioning.
Not just any girls.
But, my girls. (and when i say "my" it is merely and simply a friendship claim )
It was ...


Moving on.
So after a full laugh, we head back home because apparently I had to wake up at 10.
Actually, I was just "advised" to do so.
Next morning, Dania woke me up at 10, just to chit chat.
And I, ofcourse without any intentions, got dressed to get my day going. Next thing I know, all of the girls are picking me up to go on a roadtrip.
We were on the road, somewhere in between Tanayel and Faraya.
We then got to Mig's chalet in Faraya.
Milk. Cookies. Cup Cakes. Raklette. Salads. Wine. Food. Perfect food. Cake. Nutella. Melted Kinder on a spoon, but often on strawberrys. "Adult" board games. Colored lights. Beautiful Trees. Another Zeina. More kinder. More fruits. Kinder tart. And a mix of whatever your senses wanted to decide. A series of books. A new journal. And charms.
It was exactly right.

I assume 22s dont really hit you, until they do!

So birthdays do not end until... Friday night. We went out in hamra. 5 girls. 1 guy.
De prague. Round 1. Round 2. Round 3. Sex on the Beach. Another guy. Round 4. Round 5. Round 6. Volcano. Ziad, the other guy. Round 7. Round 8. Round 9. Blow Job. Round 10. Streets. Latina with a question. To Raoul. Who's Raoul. Rabbit Hole. Round Something. Round 16. Round 17. Round 18. Round what number is this again. Round 20. Round 21. Round 22. Brain damage. And that is pretty much how it goes. A waiter. A possible Dj. The future. Writing. A lot of beautiful things.
It went down to 3.
And then we were only 2.

Walked back while little drops were falling from up above, and drove back home.

A 22 year old, loaded with 22 shots.
I guess this is when it cant just be a number anymore.

1 comment:

  1. You keep us waiting... but it's worth it. Happy Birthday :D