Catching flights, not feelings.
I wasn’t the girl who had done one night stands. I was too innocent for that, in fact I may have even frowned upon it. Ok I did. I frowned upon it. When in a relationship, I’m super loyal, my eyes don’t wander and I dote on that person. I’d hope I’m not like that now. Obviously the loyal thing dur, but it’s ok to look, appreciate what you have but forget the doting. Sod off, I’m not fucking doing that again. You can dote on yourself bud.
“The BEST part about the break up bod , is you can eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
So, when I walked away from my narcissist boyfriend (yes ladies, it is possible to do and you deserve so much better); I was an absolute shell of myself. I had dropped about 10kg so was really very tiny and had no appetite. The BEST part about a break up bod, is you can eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And not gain a thing. The stress of a break up makes all the calories just disappear….poof. It is a glorious time. Obviously not that glorious, considering it’s a break up. But you get through it - you always do. Meanwhile, I managed to still keep the boobs and the bum, they were just… smaller?!
The break up bod is amazing especially when I was headed back to the UK for Christmas 2017 and for the first time in my expat life (all of 25 years), I sat next to a smoking hot guy. He was similar age, English and was going home for Christmas after his first 6 months living in Sydney. He started the conversation, not me. THAT was a major ego booster and he definitely checked me out when I asked him to get up so I could go to the loo (not that I noticed, he told me later on). Small peach back then ;). Let’s name him Plane Man. Plane Man and I exchanged numbers and by the time I got back to my grandpas, he had already messaged me.
The messages got hot quite quickly, it was clear we were very attracted to each other. Like I said smoking hot guy. Tall, dark, handsome, funny and confident. ++
Now, I am going to be honest, I was going home to my parents, our first Christmas in the UK as a family. A Christmas that my ex was meant to be travelling with me and here I was a shell of myself, only prepared to see my family, my special unit of 4 and not impress anyone else. No one. That meant no waxed private areas, underarms, the vajayjay, you name it. I was a mess.
Think skinny Highland cow, warm for winter… moo.
So when Plane Man text to ask for my postcode so that he could drive an hour and a half to see me a.k.a get naughty in his car. I freaked out. So much so that I actually talked it through with my brother. Who by the way, I am very close to but my brother was like:
‘What? So dad can find him on the sofa tomorrow morning?!’
Thanks for talking some sense into me JJ. Plane Man and I didn’t meet up and whilst we still text until he returned to Sydney, naturally it fizzled out. He comes back in the picture later in 2018 but we’ll just park him there for now.
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