I tried, I really did. I gave myself pep talks, I wore unattractive underwear, did not shave my legs, but in the end, I spectacularly failed at my long distance relationship.
It was easy to kid myself when I set off travelling, leaving my boyfriend behind, that it was all going to be ok, yes I would miss him, but we would chat online, I wouldn’t be tempted and when I came back it would all be the same, it would all go back to normal.
But normal is not really a thing when you are travelling. You see, I did love my boyfriend, well I thought I did, but it was in a warmth in bed at the end of the day, helps bring the shopping in and chatting to my Nana kind of way. And somehow that love is easy to forget, it just evaporated away when you are faced with a tanned, muscular, who leaned close to me whilst we discussed and compared our adventures one tipsy night in a hostel, where the cheap wine flowed and the warm breeze ruffled his un-brushed hair.
His chest was muscle clad and covered in tattoos that the tight t-shirt was unable to hide, his wrist was encircled in leather. He was very different from my normal type, but as I laughed I realised I was not the old me anymore. I was a traveller, a foreigner in a strange land. I had had adventures!
I turned my head to show off my newly acquired noise piercing and he suggested we go to the beach to watch the moon light on the waves.
What’s wrong with that? I asked myself. It was a totally innocent request, no obligations, nothing, just a walk on the beach in the dark with the full moon rising over the pacific, a sexy guy at my side.
The pebbles were cold and hard under my bare back but all I could feel was the warm weight of muscle above me, grinding away all my good intentions…
Origanly published on http://trainlessmagazine.com