Parental Advisory – My parents: Just don’t proceed. (This goes for you too, Grandma)
So, where do I even begin?
I promised myself that I would write at least a few times during my three week holiday. That was actually the ONLY reason I even brought my laptop along (I told my boss is was so I could do work, but that didn’t happen). I just ended up having such a fucking fantastic time, that it didn’t leave many opportunities to write. But I guess I can start with this: I came back from this sabbatical feeling incredible. Credit the sand, the sea, the sun, or perhaps the sex (yes, the sex), but I feel like I’m back to myself again. The past two-ish years have completely killed my self-confidence and self-worth. But instead of talking about that toxic relationship again (not worth the time or the typing), we can just get into my on version of National Lampoon’s European vacation. (And yes, I did see Big Ben a few times, although I was not stuck in a roundabout.)
First off, I never thought I’d be able to travel on my own. Up until this point, all of my vacations have either been with family or the person I was dating at the time. I think that I might have been a little nervous about being a petite female, all alone on the London city streets. But that was fucking insane, because I felt so much safer than I do at times in Boston. I was particularly fond of the Tube and was able to get around without relying on GPS by the end of the holiday. Before starting out on this trip, I was also never one to just to go a restaurant/bar/pub/whatever and eat/drink/whatever alone. The first night in London, I ended up sitting next to a sexy stranger at a pub near my hotel. Feeling a bit emboldened (thanks to a pint), I ended up striking a conversation with him. The Aussie ended up buying me another pint, and we chatted until his Lyft came to get him. So all in all, my first attempt at being social in a foreign land went well. Just when I thought about calling it a night, I got a message from a guy I knew from Boston, saying he saw my Instagram post (a picture of my first London pint, obviously). He just happened to be in the area as well, so we met up for fish and chips (clearly) and some pub hopping, which culminated at a nightclub in Shoreditch, which I was not at all properly dressed for (think pub-wear: tee, jeans, sneakers). My American friend was a complete gentleman and made sure I got back to my hotel around 3am. Please keep in mind that I also took a red eye the night before, so I was going on very little sleep and far too many drinks. Also, nothing happened with him. Although we were directly outside my hotel, I decided it wasn’t a great idea to invite him up. Actually pretty proud of my self-restraint with that one.
I slept until about noon, but eventually forced myself out of bed to explore the city. At first, I was just planning on walking around Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens (which were conveniently located close to my hotel), but feeling better than expected, I walked 11 miles around the city, catching some of the more touristy locales (Harrods, Buckingham Palace, Westminster, Big Ben, London Eye, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Big Ben). At this point, I figured I’d call it a day and just go back to my hotel. But as luck would have it, I had been conversing with someone from Tinder throughout the day (basically whenever I could find WiFi at Starbucks, Nero, Pret, etc.), and he convinced me to meet up for “an Englishman’s rough guide to drinking in London.” We met around Oxford Circus and walked to a nearby pub. Unlike the States, we were able to grab a couple drinks at the bar and then hang out on the street outside the pub (what a novelty!). After finishing two rounds and being true to his word, he took me to our next stop: a more upscale restaurant for cocktails. Another two rounds and we then headed out to our next stop: a member’s only club in what appeared to be a semi-residential neighborhood. We ended up shutting the place down (probably somewhere close to 2am) and being a good Englishman, he walked me to my hotel. Considering he took the time to walk me back, I assumed that the night was over and I’d head to bed, so I was a bit surprised to find myself making out with him on the corner of a semi-busy street (side note: he was a fantastic kisser). It went on long enough for a police car to come by and flash it’s lights, forcing us to make a decision as to the next steps for the evening. He hailed a taxi (a black Hackney carriage, of course) and we ended up back at his house. I’ll leave you perverts to imagine what occurred next, but all I’ll say is that my first Tinder date in London was a success. (And I’m sorry, but the dates to follow during the first leg of my trip did not match up in any way, shape, or form.)
After that, I had a semi-lame date with someone that I had matched with a couple times in Boston (he lived there until recently and just moved back to London). He was nice and we had a good conversation over a couple G&Ts (so London), but there wasn’t anything there.
I also had an interesting WhatsApp conversation with someone I matched with on Tinder, who very quickly insulted me. Because of my lack of WiFi most places, I was really slow to respond. At one point after a short answer from me, he asked “Where are you from originally? As you are vague and lack intellect.”
Oh no he fucking didn’t.
I quickly pulled out my best “Boston” and responded with “I’m from Boston, by way of NH and my previous response was “all over the place” because I honestly don’t remember where I was or what pubs I was at (I was being led around by a friend). Perhaps before you question someone’s intellect next time, I suggest you consider a couple factors: 1. is she traveling the country without cell service, and 2. is it possible she’s perhaps not actually interested?”
Ugh.
The last male interaction I had during the first leg of the trip was with someone that I actually talked to years before. Somehow, we matched on OKcupid, and started a transatlantic friendship. We stopped talked a while back, but ended up matching on Tinder while I was in London. One of my last days before leaving for Greece, we decided to get some drinks and listen to some live music. The band that we heard was shit, but we had a good conversation. He’s a nice guy, but I knew early on that nothing would come from it, as we are just too different. However, all in all, it was a nice evening. Also, there may or may not have also been some illicit substances involved in this outing that perhaps impaired my judgement more than I would have liked. But we won’t get into that.
So that was my first 5 days in Europe.
Other major sights that I visited: Sherlock Holmes Museum (didn’t go in though), Regent’s Park, Abbey Road, Lord’s Cricket Ground, King’s Cross (had to get the obligatory Platform 9 3/4 pic for my nephews), Camden, Tate Modern, Tower Bridge, Tower of London, Gordon’s Wine Bar (a suggestion from a friend), 10 Downing St, Brixton (had to see the Bowie memorial). I also got my nails done (needed a Grecian polish change before leaving) at a great little salon in Mayfair. But I know that most of you don’t care about the sightseeing portion of this blog. All you lot care about is my mortifying forays into the foreign dating circuit. But whoopsie daisy, that didn’t really happen this time around. HA!
). He assured me that the first episode I missed wasn’t anything special, and went over as much of the plot as he could remember. He also said the second to last episode was really good and agreed to rewatch it with me before watching the finale together. So we caught a cab back to his place.
Catch and Release 