Here's my first published feature for Metro
And it all started with a little tweet about holiday romance...
"Dating blogger Janey Heathly on how fallen of someone is easier on holiday
When I'm at home in London, I am 'that' girl who, for one reason or a million others, is always single. And, actually, that's the way I like it. But when I'm away, there's an alter ego that comes out to play - the girl who loves a holiday romance.
So why this change of heart every time I grab my passport? Why are so many of us ready for love just because it's a holiday?
As we jet off we let go of work mode and, with it, many of our inhibitions. We worry less about the big stuff, like a connection, and more about just enjoying ourselves.
My first holiday romance happened in Mexico. It was the best two weeks of my life so far. I was eight when I met a nine-year-old Spanish boy, who asked me out in an American accent. He collected me from my room with a pink flower picked from the hotel poolside. It was ever so romantic. I sat between him and his mother at the all-you-could-eat buffet. There were even Oysters!
there followed a string of two-week flirtations year after year, promises of pen pals and distraught journeys back to, as I saw it, the grey reality of everyday life where the romances never dared follow.
Another memorable one involved me falling from a bar into the arms of a handsome stranger in Greece, my bare foot bleeding. I don't remember falling from the bar, just warm, strong arms carrying me. then later the same good-looking stranger, a fair-haired boy, pretending to be my brother, sat next to me in A&E. There, my foot was bandaged and I began to sober up into an unforgiving hangover. Yet that night became the night of my first motorcycle ride (to hospital), stitches, and the kind of kiss that makes you dizzy, whether or not you're balancing on one leg.
After that first Mexican moment, for me holiday romances became a pattern from crushes in the kids club, to the breed of childhood romances where the entire resort knows you're 'boyfriend and girlfriend', yet you're too embarrassed to hold hands. At 14 years old I fell for a sailor but I ruined my chances by vomiting over his deck shoes after one beer. Also he was 35. Then a year later, I met a rugby player of my own age who slow danced with me at the end of the dock.
It's not just the heat going to my head - there is some science behind a holiday romance or fling. Science or sweat, at least. Holiday heat makes s sweat more, bringing testosterone, the hormone responsible for our sex drive, to the surface of our skin. This makes us more desirable and we desire little more that a brief fling.
Leaving the country is just like leaving myself. On holiday you can be your best bits - highlights, if you will - and no one will know otherwise. Because after all, you're leaving again a week later to head back to reality."