I am a victim of this club

They got me real good

This is how:

Due to a random series of events I met 3 girls on the street, on a early summer night. The lead in this story is Guusje, young, 18 years old , from Belgium, roaming Amsterdam with 2 friends from Bulgaria and Turkey. Ash blond hair stopping just above her shoulders, full lips, a hot mess of second hand clothes and an arrogant look of utter boredom on her pretty face.
I know 18 year old girls aren’t known for their empathy and warmth, but these three took self-absorption to a whole new level. They demanded to be entertained by me, the local. Told me to join them to a club to pay for their drinks. The attention span of a goldfish, but dangerously aware of the effect they had on me, hungry fool of a man.

Fuck this, I finally thought, and I managed to break free of their greedy grasp, but not before Guusje pressed a quick kiss on my lips, texted herself with my phone, and whispered “see you soon” in my ear.

She texted me the following night at 1am: “Shame on you for messing around with girls that are way too young for you. I’m in the city, come pick me up.”

To the city I went.

That night I witnessed the full devastating force of young, cruel, attractive women that understand the power they wield. They left a trail of destruction, as groups of boys were left behind in desperation, empty handed, stripped of their booze, money and dreams, while the echoes of manic laughter resounded through the streets of Amsterdam.

When eventually bullying the local boys became boring as well, Guusje declared that she would sleep at my place and that we were definitely not going to have sex you old perv. Fine by me. Went to my place where, one thing led to another. She became softer, warmer, and fewer insults about our age difference were thrown at me. It felt suddenly different. But she had saved the best for last.

“Allez Bram, you are my first..” she whispered, a little bit too late. I froze, just for a second, short-circuited, until that same manic laughter I had heard before ricocheted in my ears.

The next morning I had to undergo a  series of rants about how all of life bored her to death. All except her friends, who all possessed a ramshackle scooter, a noisy piece of trash with which they annoyed the living daylight out the people in their neighbourhood.She showed me the contacts in her phone, all of them, of course, had a nickname :

80 km/h
King Crash
Ball Head Gear
Full Tank 20 max
Scooter Boy
Vario Clock
Fuck Oil

I am a songwriter, always in search of a good story. When somebody slams this In my face there’s nothing else I can do. This club has screwed with me, but I am deeply impressed. The Cruel Teen Virgin Motorcycle Club deserved a shoutout, an anthem, and this song is just that.

We’re trash
But so are you
Its The Cruel Teen Virgin Motorcycle Club

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