So could getting your rocks off abroad be one of the last modern day Taboos then?
I don’t know but it certainly feels that way sometimes. At my lowest Ebb, such emotions ignited by an absent text from my lover, (pathetic I know but we’ve all been there) I would often wonder to myself; was I wrapped up in the warmth of this obsession as a kind of shelter against the day to day drudgery of my life? After all it only took one simple communication from him and I could just close my eyes and escape to the fantasy of that week, spent in the exhilarating warmth of Sun-lust. Yes I was surely becoming quite mental. Especially as no one seemed to take me seriously, accept for Nicola of course. Whom sometimes I would see in varying states of neurosis and pray to god I wasn’t looking into a mirror. What had happened to us?! – It beggared belief. We had been transformed from a couple of savvy and cynical women into these romantic and frankly clueless girls. So I can now appreciate from my own experience how seemingly well adjusted women of substance and character can totally lose their wits. Okay, yeah and girls with no substance or character whatsoever too.
So what’s the hook? – The mystery certainly. A foreign fuck is a big turn on. Like Madonna said ‘you don’t have to have a language in common to have sexual rapport’ In fact it makes the sex more exciting, when you can’t engage in a bullshit conversation, you soon realise you have little else to do except get down to it. So the language barrier actually frees you up sexually. And as these accelerated feelings unwind you most definitely unravel with the flow. Everything becomes more urgent with the time limits set out by your soon to expire package holiday.
Now I can see why my 1940s sisters in a time of war removed their stockings so readily. And talking of soldiers you only have to hear the sob story come pick up line that your holiday romance is about to go into the Army – and another piece of your common sense gets chipped away. Most of the crap though a foreign lover can spill is outstanding. It’s not that they have the gift of the gab or anything most of us aren’t that stupid. They whisper all this shit in your ear and they could be talking about the theory of relativity for all you know. It’s just that we choose to accept it for what it is, and enjoy it. I mean they could be calling you a bucket crutched whore whilst you’re sliding of the bed yelling ‘Yes, yes!’ Even the name of the most popular brand of Turkish condom offers an insight. Believe it or not, it’s actually called ‘Casanova’, yeah I’ve seen ‘Don Juan’ ones too. From this alone you can see that confidence is a winning formula. And when faced with the guys at home and the bureaucracy of love games that you must entertain before you even get into the bedroom, all that crap is frankly tedious. Especially when compared with the fun you just had on holiday. So what do you do? – You go back for more. The Holiday fling is a universal phenomenon which in the advent of post feminism is a growing trend. Look, my generation just doesn’t give a fuck about being labeled as a slag anymore. We can have our cake and eat it. Some of us love and get burned. Some of us love and leave the feelings and fun behind until the following year. And some of us try against all the odds like me to make it work. So for every type of holiday dalliance there’s a woman behind the story with real feelings. And I’m one of them, and this is my dream that yes, my relationship will be – Wonderful, hopefully.
© AJK 2010