The Bachelor

Our relative in Bariloche is a 40-something single male with three kids. He lives in a bachelor pad near the city center. We slept in his bed which smelled like too much Jersey shore cologne (my hair still smells like it). Last night, as mentioned, he planned a night of “bailando” for Claire and I. At dinner, Claire translated that he said he would drop us off at “the discotheque.” We decided to take a power nap before we left, and as we laid our heads on the pillows, Claire revealed something terrifying.
C: “I think he might be coming to the club with us.”
J: “What? No…”
We decided we would wait and see what would happen, in denial of the impending doom. Earlier that day via Skype our mother revealed to us that he had a philandering reputation amongst the family. This only led us to feel more nervous. After waking up and me throwing a fit about having to go out, we finished getting ready and told him. Moment of truth.
Relative: “Great. I just need to change.”
Claire and I stared at each other in disbelief. To make things worse he informed us that he would be picking up an Amiga. That is a girl. WAS THIS ALSO A DATE? WHY YES, IT WAS. Horrified as we sat in the back seat like children, we got the date and headed to the club.

Upon entering Claire and I ran away as fast as we could. I started binge drinking and encouraged Claire to do the same. The whole night was then spent ducking and running from the looming middle-agers. When we decided to go home they were waiting at the door to take us home. Thanks parents! We were then DROPPED OFF and did not see the relative until the next morning.

This was supposed to be funny but I am suffering from PTSD and it is difficult to relive the trauma. We have escaped the overprotective grasps of the family (the bachelor insisted on driving us to our hostel and left his phone number with the receptionist in case there was trouble) and are settled in the hippie mountain town of El Bolson. FREEDOM.


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