Falling for a boy on holiday is a lot like falling for a boy at a chill out. The time you’ve spent with the boy in question is intensified by a number of things; the high intake of alcohol, a cocktail of drugs, the close vicinity in which you’re temporarily kept and of course being free from the commitments and stresses of normal life. A few hours can feel like weeks and you dread returning to reality. Who wouldn’t? 

But it has to be said that it’s extremely rare for a walk along the beach and few drunken nights of passion to turn into any much more than that. Similarly, boys you meet at chill outs and rub willies with in the bathroom very seldom turns out to be ‘The One’.
So, do holiday romances offer a harmless escapism from the tragedy that is the London dating scene? Or do they just get our hopes up for the potential opportunity of love before inevitably fizzling out and only heightening our comedown when we return home, by highlighting just another thing that’s missing from our lives?

We have these visions of this Danny and Sandy cliché; making out in the sea, candlelit dinners and sex so immense that your eyes could pop out of their sockets at any given moment – all with Katy Perry’s ‘Teenage Dream’ as a backing track, of course. And though when we do jet abroad, after figuring out that there’s very little satisfaction to shagging everything in sight (especially when you’re way hotter than most of the island) – the ‘romances’ that do take place can feel like an all-consuming lust – but was there ever really a connection in the first place if we let it slip away so easily?

Holidays are supposed to be a relaxing time, but more often than not we need another one just to get over it. They should be about leaving work, drama and boys behind – but instead you change the weather report and it’s more or less the same. And even though you may think you’ve met someone you’d of never have met without leaving the city – when you do return, it’s sad to say – but that excitement fades quicker than your tan.

It’s all very easy to get caught up in the moment – especially on foreign soil – and it by all means meant more than waking up in a puddle of regret and mephedrone sweat, but is it worth the hassle of getting over? Are we preparing ourselves for the real deal, or simply just making our relationship with loneliness harder to overcome?

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