“I want, I don’t know…a holiday romance. A new kind of guy. A surfer type, you know, chilled, tanned, long curly blonde hair, always with a surf board in hand or covered in sand. A guy that will want to sit on the beach at midnight or drink cider on the streets or not care that I’m in jeans and flip flops. Yeah I want a holiday romance. It’s about time.”
This was how the conversation started in the car with my best friend Stephie. She said “well that’s a lovely story” which is her usual response for all the useless drivel that comes out of my mouth. I go off on an imaginative tangent and she basically shoots me down and brings me back to reality. I mean, I was only a little hopeful anyway. However, on day two of my holiday…this is exactly what happened. Meet Nomad. A kite surfer so not a surfboard surfer but basically the same ‘type’ of guy. He even had the long curly hair tied back in a ponytail, golden skin and he’s so chilled out he might as well be laying down all the time. On the second day I got my request, my holiday romance. Mother Nature, you know I love you when you are bang on with the results. So, I was all chuffed right? Wrong.
Be careful what you wish for.
In my virtual request to the universe, I didn’t quite specify enough what I was after. It’s very much like that stupid film Bedazzled, you guys seen it? Liz Hurley is the actual Devil and finds all kinds of loop holes in people’s wishes to twist it to suit her. She’s super hot in it too, so watch it. Anyway, I digress. With my holiday romance…I neglected to request that the holiday romance actually ENHANCES my holiday, rather than taint it. I also neglected to ask Mother Nature to ensure he looks after me when we hang out…doesn’t leave me on my own in a place I do not know…or go off with other girls while I am with him…and the most significant point; that the holiday romance doesn’t bleed into my ‘normal’ life when I get back.
You see, whilst I tripped into Nomad as soon as we met and couldn’t climb back out, it wasn’t fun. We had sporadic meetings where we had the best time, but shit hit the fan on a HUGE level at a beer festival and long boring story short…I was left in pitch black at 1am sitting outside this pub on a muddy hill with no cash, no phone signal, no way of getting home and no Nomad. Where or why he left me, I didn’t know…well actually I do a bit. I have my part to play in this too. After he left me the first time when he showed up minus the girl he walked off with…I slapped him. Not proud, I assure you. But I did. So there you go. Won’t be drinking real country cider at 7% ever again. All I know at the end of the festival was that this creepy old guy tried to get me into his car for a lift home and then this younger less creepy guy offered me a space in his mate’s tent. Erm, sweet but, no.
From that point on Nomad and I were fucked and we both knew it. I was livid, he was aloof, I was upset, he was sorry. Bla bla bla. I mean, so much drama for what was originally supposed to just be fun holiday memories in the sun together. We did hang out the next day which was, in fairness, a lovely few hours but I couldn’t quite wipe the memory of the mess of the night before from my mind. And so, I came back to Kent and he went back off to wandering whereever he wanders. Who knows where Nomads go…who knows.
In true Nixalina style…I wanted to see him again. I felt it unfinished. I was cheated, if you will, of a glorious night together sleeping under the stars after the festival. I ended up alone at 2am crying somewhere. I mean…I was really drunk and so was he, but still, no excuses. I wanted to have genuine time together and to chill and to hang out and to spoon and laugh and cuddle and eat and go places. Just a long weekend, that’s all I was after. We had it planned but he does what Nomads do best AGAIN…disappeared on me for no reason…and I then did what Nixalina does best…got her absolute shit on about it. And here we now are, not talking and that’s that.
So, when it comes to holiday romances, what’s the deal? We all want one and we all have this sunshine idyllic ideal with white sands and salt water kisses. You two will become immersed in each other for those short weeks, knowing it has a shelf-life anyway so making every moment even more precious and beautiful. Then you’ll go back to reality and you’ll always look back and remember cuddling him on the sand as he undoes your bikini top and the sunshine melts into your back. How awesome. Holiday romances like this are awesome. BUT (why is there always a but?) that is life in a utopian parallel universe. That’s what I refer to as, erm, utter bullshit.
Realism hit me hard. He was just a guy. He wasn’t a cool chilled hippie, he was a Nomad. He did his own thing regardless of whether I was meant to be there or not. He blocks me whenever he fancies for no reason because, well, that’s just who he is. I can’t even have a go at him…it is these attributes that attracted me to him in the first place. He is completely different to the men I usually date and it is this difference which made him both the cure and the curse. I can’t throw myself at someone because they’re a free spirit then have a go at them when they do what free spirits do best…leave me.
When it comes to the actual holiday, was the romance a bad thing? I can’t say. I mean, the night I was left was AWFUL and I’d never want to do that again. But since then it’s my fault for trying to continue something that I knew full well needed to have been left back on the beach, along with my bikini and towel. You cannot try cement something into a real life format when the reason you first wanted it is because it wasn’t ‘real life’. You get what I am saying? The essence of Nomad was why I wanted him, but it’s the very same essence that means it would never ever work beyond the sandy beach.
What I have learnt is that, when it comes to holiday romances, you need to work out if it’s going to be a positive contribution to your Facebook photo album of Summer 2015. Will he make it awesome, or awful? Will you have the emotional distance to walk away when you catch the train or plane home and accept you cannot drag him into your future plans? When you get too attached too quickly, then you’ve basically fucked it. If you are the kind of girl (or guy!) who can step back and appreciate things for the fleeting moment they exist, then go ahead. Go enjoy yourselves. But if like me you struggle to eradicate emotions once they’ve formed…then do not do it. Do not hook up. Do not kiss him under the sunshine as the waves lap against the shore. Trust me on this. Just go get an ice-cream and read a book instead. You’ll thank me in the long term.
