This article originally appeared on VICE UKI don't tend to go on many holidays, and with Brexit looming ever closer, that won't be changing any time soon. But at least when I do, they are often fuelled by a pure faith in hedonism. So pure that I never get the chance to indulge in things like showering, eating, or really even talking coherently, and this has inevitably led to a reluctance in the opposite sex to engage with me in any way while I am abroad.
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This did change recently, though. We met on a rooftop, we rode a moped through the countryside and we enjoyed being lost together. Yes, holy shit, it was set-piece, so fucking set-piece that the author of Twilight would think it was too much, but goddamnit, it felt nice.Mine may have played out like a more saccharine version of The Only Way Is Essex Does Magaluf, but it made me wonder about all those other sweaty holiday romances out there. So I asked a load of people to tell me what happened when they hooked up abroad.I was 24 at the time. We met at Eden nightclub in Ibiza on the urban night. I had snuck in with a stag party. I was on my own for some chillout time, and not knowing when I was gonna return back to the UK. He was the best man and on his last night out with no money, which was a blessing really, because he had already spent a stupid amount. He was the kind of guy who liked carrying a champagne bottle, which I personally hate. He was surrounded by three hot Spanish babes and I spotted him as the only one really dancing in the crowd.I was talking to a big guy from Texas who was also on a stag do, when Delroy made his way over, thinking I was foreign and might be an easy lay. He had just split up with his girlfriend of three years and had slimmed down by half. I had just split up with an overbearing mental case, so I guess we both weren't interested in meeting anyone.
HANNAH-ROSE, 30: 'I SUDDENLY SAID, I'M GOING TO SHIT MYSELF'
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He came over and said "Hi, I used to be 22 stone" and I was like "I don't believe you." I took his hat off to check his head wasn't a funny shape and then called him Professor Klump. We danced about and some girl threw her drink at me while Oasis' "Wonderwall" came on, and we left the club singing along and holding hands. As we walked I started questioning him on our way to the shop in the main town.I asked things like:"What's your name?" Delroy, he said. I called him Delboy for about a month."How many kids you got?" "Three," he told me, and I wasn't shocked."What car do you drive?" "Audi s3," he smiled, which made me want to vomit."Are you a drug dealer?" "No!" he cried.The ice cubes were having a dodgy effect on my belly. As we sat and talked, I suddenly said, "I think I'm going to shit myself." He still held my hand while we walked to an apartment that I shared with a 50-year-old Buddha-shaped security guard. He slept naked in a bed next to me with a little towel to cover his lower regions.Anyway, I did a massive poo and it was so shameful. Afterwards I went to Delroy's hotel. He came flying out to meet me near the swimming pool in a grey tracksuit, and I knew that he didn't care about my embarrassment, and I was in love.When he got back to the UK we spoke for three weeks on Skype, so by the time I came back we were ready to start seeing each other properly. Long story short, we got married two years ago, have a three-year-old Staffy and a one-year-old son, and as much as we hate each other, we do everything together.
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JOSH, 23: 'WE WANT HOLIDAY ROMANCES TO REMIND US OF BEING ABROAD'
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I'm quite an intense lover I guess. I fall in love really easy so I decide quickly if I like someone. I could see myself with him for sure but the reality is we live on different continents and he has done long-distance before and doesn't want to again. I guess we all have these holiday romances because we want a reminder of our time spent abroad. I know that I'll always have thoughts of Nathan when I think back to my time in Hong Kong.
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CHRIS, 27: 'IT TURNED INTO THE KIND OF EXPERIENCE YOU SEE IN AN ANTI-DRUGS VIDEO'
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I later found out it's a horrible drug called yaba which means "crazy medicine" in Thai and is methamphetamine, which was not what I was expecting. So I'm pranging out but she wants to get down again. I could only think about my mum telling me to use condoms because of HIV. I was pranging out about my mum and getting HIV while trying to keep an erection and put on a condom, which as you can imagine, is a bad combo. She was getting bored, and the paranoia really set in after a two-minute floppy session. I get up and say "NO!", which was a bit of an overreaction, and apologise and say I have to leave. She insists on driving me back. I'm pretty embarrassed, but she insists, so I agree reluctantly.As we're heading for her motorbike, she's on the phone sounding pissed off in her language and I assume that she's setting me up to be mugged. I can't speak a word but I just had a feeling that she was telling someone a location. I get on the bike and carry on being friendly though but start thinking the nerdiest thing: "What would James Bond do here?" So I start asking her about the bike and how to change the gears and she answers politely, all the while I'm wondering if I'm going to have to boost her off the bike and ride away when her henchmen turn up. In the end, she dropped me right outside my guest house. Holiday romances are good fun and all, just make sure your body functions properly.
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CAROLINE, 29: 'HE WALKED ME HOME AND EXPLAINED DUTCH CULTURAL BLACKFACE'
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I thought for a good few years that we might meet up and get married, but I'm obviously over that now, I'm 26 and very much in love with someone else. We did chat again though, months later, I got a message from him because he said he suddenly remembered my last name while shopping. And to be honest, the magic kind of disappeared. We exchanged a few Facebook messages, but the broken English and "How are your studies?" questions didn't really fit the thing I had built in my mind.I think the thing about holiday romances is that you get a little high on the serendipity of the whole thing. It's not the same as meeting someone you fancy in your local club. It feels a little like divine intervention: here we are, two strangers with nothing in common, we don't speak the same language, and yet we have this connection.I was on holiday in Crete, an all-inclusive resort, with my mum and brother when I was 16. I got friendly with a group of kids all around my age, mostly Spanish, Italian and Dutch. On their last night we went to the hotel "disco" and one of the girls who I hadn't spoken to at all singled me out, ground up on me, winding and such, then after a while led me outside. One of her mates got a condom out of her bag and yelled "be safe!" at us, after which she led me down to the beach, which I assumed meant she realised we couldn't go to the room I was sharing with the rest of my family. I had to assume because she wasn't really saying… anything.After an hour or so of sex (for the record, sex on the beach is fine on Greek sand and not fine at all on a pebble beach in Worthing), during which at least one security patrol totally failed to see us, we vaguely mumbled a goodnight, and went our separate ways.Next morning, I met up with that same group again, and went to sit down next to this girl, asked her how she was. And that was when I realised she didn't speak English. I was then pretty much duty-bound to hang out with them til they checked out several hours later, feebly trying to work out enough mutually understood words to strike up a conversation. It didn't work out.@williamwastemanMore from VICE:How to Go Travelling and Not Be a DickWe Asked an Ayahuasca Shaman About Idiot TouristsThings You Learn on Your First Proper Holiday Ever