I've chosen my Mum as my plus one, given that she hasn't been abroad since before I was born and there are no men worthy of being my holiday companion. So it's going to be a case of Sun, Sea, and No Sex Please I'm With My Mum. Not that I'm in a rush to have a man anywhere near me again anytime soon, not after the last few. Well, after all of them really. The last guy was an excellent bullshitter, I'll give him that. He looked me straight in the eyes and said "I'm not like the other guys, I'd never hurt you in any way". He seemed extremely sincere at the time. The fact that he claimed to be neurotic about keeping things clean and tidy, whilst his bathroom had mould older than Gandalf, should've warned me early on that he wasn't completely honest. It's hard to know what to believe now. Men claim that women are paranoid and they don't understand why, well guys...now you know! Also, always remember this; we always find out, one way or another, when you're dipping your stick in somebody else's honey pot. I'm not angry, I don't think I'm even that surprised. I'm certainly not going to be bitter about it. I just hope his dick falls off.
Anyway, enough about the latest douchebag, lets get back to the holiday! I'm excited, but before the fun of the holiday comes the unfortunate experience of flying; and the consequent projectile vomiting. I've only actually thrown up once on a plane but that was bad enough - have you ever tried communicating with non-English speaking Spanish airport cleaners? Not understanding me trying to explain I've been sick in this bag led to me having to actually act out being sick into the bag. People pretty much kept their distance from me at the baggage collection point. Nevertheless, I very much dislike feeling sick so am not looking forward to the flight, and no amount of sugar-free sucky sweets is going to stop my eardrum from feeling like its going to implode.
After a day of recovering I shall celebrate our landing with copious amounts of cocktails. According to the hotel website we have a poolside bar! I'm not sure swimming whilst under the influence of an extravagant cocktail of various alcoholic substances is an entirely great idea, not since the last time I almost took out my eye on the cocktail umbrella, but hey...we only live once. Sink or swim! In my case; sink. Most importantly, I need to ensure I don't make the mistake of falling asleep in the sun whilst reading my book, not like I did last month when I woke up looking like I'd had an all-over chemical peel with sulphuric acid.
I'm slightly concerned about the food out there. The closest I've ever gotten to Greek food is a bag of cheesy puffs I bought once in Spain called Hercules Puffs. I had taramasalata in a Greek place in Canada years ago and that was gorgeous, nothing like the shit you buy in supermarkets that tastes like the manufacturers just packaged up something a fish puked up. I believe kebabs are quite popular over there. Similar to England I guess, although it'll be weird standing in a kebab shop without hearing chavs swearing at the counter assistant, and a drunken hobo pissing up the wall outside. Anyway, if I don't find any food I like I could always survive the week on cocktails, at least they have fruit in them.
This will be my first holiday abroad in four years so I'm determined to have a good time. I'm going to do as many touristy things as I can possibly fit in, drink as many cocktails as my liver can fit in, and avoid as many dodgy kebabs as my bowels can fit in. Or out, as the case may be. Hopefully the wedding will go nice and smooth too, preferably without me arsing down the steps tangled in my dress train. Then, when I get back I shall immerse myself in work and my friends. If at any point I decide to be stupid enough to start dating again you can guarantee the first thing I'll be checking out is the bathroom; it says a lot about a man.
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