Katy Colins - Destination Thailand

Quit and go.

That simple, hey biro?

What’s holding you back? No man, no children, soon to be no home. Just a crappy job where you constantly moan about feeling undervalued but stick it out as they have good maternity packages. Packages that you won’t need now. Sell everything, buy a backpack and go.

OK, maybe the pen did have a point. My job as a PA at Fresh Air PR, a small but growing firm near Topshop on the high street, was where I’d stayed for the past five years working my way up from post-room assistant to personal assistant to the Director of Marketing; same office, same faces, same printer problems. The thought of not having to worry if I’d chosen the right mug to brew up in, not to be forced to drink through the mundanity of the Christmas parties, to avoid listening to petty arguments over who had the best parking space and what Boots meal-deals were the best value for money sounded pretty good. I’d got too comfortable; like everything else in my life, agreeing to things I didn’t want to please others and not pursuing my own dreams for fear of failure or embarrassment. The routine of cohabitation had come naturally with Alex, even if there were times when I looked at my chore list, my shopping list and our practically empty social calendar and despised the domestic drudgery.

But where would I go and what would I do? Pen, don’t let me down. I closed my eyes, breathing in the salty sun lotion-filled air and started to write.

Go skinny dipping in the moonlit ocean

Dance all night under the stars

Taste incredible exotic food

Ride an elephant

Visit historic temples

Explore new beliefs

Climb a mountain

Make friends with different nationalities

Listen to the advice of a wise soul

Do something wild

My hand was aching but my head was whirring. Then I caught myself, as a mix of doubts and reality sliced into my thoughts. How can you do this? It’ll take months of planning, saving, and organising. Where do you even start with a trip like this?! You’d never be brave enough to touch an elephant, let alone ride one. The last time you did any exercise you nearly passed out, so trekking up Everest is out of the equation, and you cried when you had your blood taken, so how are you going to manage something wild like getting a tattoo? The wildest thing I’d done recently was sleep with my make-up on.

I much preferred the dreamy freedom of my pen than my stupid conscience.

Today is meant to be your wedding day, or have you forgotten that? It’s absurd that you’re sat here writing about a whole new life you intend to start when you know you’re not strong enough to change anything, I scolded myself.

We’ll see about that, said my pen.

CHAPTER 2

Drapetomania (n.) An overwhelming urge to run away

Two hours later my head was still fizzing with ideas that maybe, just maybe, I could actually see the world, become a backpacker and change my life. Leaving sunken footprints in the sand, letting the cooling water of the shore lick my sunburnt feet, I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh sea breeze. Our wedding vows would have taken place by now. Our spoken promise to love, honour and cherish each other for as long as we both shall live. A single tear fell down my cheek but I shook myself. Now it is the time for you. To make a vow, a promise, an oath to myself that is just as life-changing, but one I have full control over: to be happy.

I half-jogged back up the hot sand to a snoring Marie. Thankfully Ali was nowhere to be seen otherwise her unsexy catching-flies impression might have blown her chances with him. Tucking my travel wish-list back in her beach bag under her Heat magazine and bottle of sun cream, I gave her a nudge before she spluttered to attention.

‘What?…where?…who?’ She threw herself upright wiping the saliva from her mouth.

I smiled at Marie’s sleepy face and matted hair. ‘Hey, I’m going to head back to the hotel.’

‘Great idea, pass me that bottle of water and we’ll go. How long was I asleep? Did I miss anything?’ she asked between gulps, wincing at the heat and combing her fingers through her hair.

‘Nah, not much,’ I said casually, deciding to give the list some more thought before I told her my radical ideas. ‘So what happened with Baywatch boy?’ I asked nodding towards Ali’s cabin.

She huffed and flicked back her head. ‘Turns out he’s gay.’

I tried to stifle a laugh. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I did my classic lean-over-the-bar-to-suggestively-pick up-a-straw-manoeuvre. I swear that technique has never failed before.’

‘Isn’t that how you ended up pregnant with Cole?’ I teased.

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Exactly! See, I told you, it’s a golden flirting style. Anyway, he didn’t even flinch. It was like my cleavage sparked nothing in his underwear department.’

‘So because of that you think he’s gay?’

‘No. But even when I licked my lips and walked over to him, Kim Kardashian-butt out and everything, he was too obsessed with watching these guys playing beach volleyball to notice!’

‘Maybe he just really, really loves sport?’ I suggested. She rolled her eyes, annoyed at having such a blot on her impeccable seduction record.

‘Trust me, I know. Let’s just say he was more interested in watching the guys grease up with sun lotion, than keeping track of the score.’

‘Ah, oh well. Hey, you know that I still love you.’

She smiled and shook her head. ‘Sorry, Georgia. We came here to help sort you out, not for Turkish hotties to put me in a bad mood.’ She stroked my arm. ‘At least I know my straw technique still works, well for straight men anyway,’ she laughed.

Listening to her talking it suddenly hit me that this was what I’d need to be doing now that I was single. Finding ways of attracting men’s attention. If Marie found it hard Lord knows how I was going to cope. I physically shuddered at being reminded that I was now flying solo. I was no longer someone’s better half, fiancée, or girlfriend. It was just me and soon I’d have to dive head-first into the ever shrinking dating pool. Oh God.

‘You OK, hun? You’ve gone a little pale under your sunburn.’ Marie’s voice brought me back to the present.

‘Yeah, yeah. Just a little tired.’

‘Right, well let’s head back, get some food and then we’ll get ready to head out and see what nightlife this town has to offer. And I’m not taking no for an answer.’

It was our last night here, and even though I’d handled the day pretty well so far, who knew what a few more cocktails could do to my fragile resolve? However, in the spirit of making changes to what now seemed like a pathetic life, maybe being forced out of my pit and into the bright lights of bar street would be a good idea.

‘Fine,’ I nodded

‘What?!’ Marie leaned over and hugged me. ‘I was convinced you’d say no.’

‘Well, maybe I’m going to try saying yes to more things from now on,’ I smiled.

‘That’s great, Georgia. See, I knew coming here would be the best thing for you. Tonight’s going to be awesome I can just feel it.’

*

Although being scrawny rather than slender, due to my recent loss of appetite – surely the only bonus in a breakup – looking at my reflection, I didn’t recognise myself. Staring back was a glamorously made-up woman, her slightly acne-pocked skin camouflaged in heavy bronzer, her glossy brown blow-dried hair framing her almond-shaped eyes, and a slick of lipstick staining her angel-bud lips. Marie had insisted on giving me a makeover, so the face that shone in the glass was nothing like the old Georgia, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I felt self-conscious in my outfit. My hot pink clutch bag matched the vertiginous stilettos that she’d pressured me into borrowing, ignoring my protests that I walked like a drunk Tina Turner in heels.