“We’re all going on a.. summer holiday. No more workin’ for a.. week or two” . That amazing song is extra amazing right now, cos its true. Tomorrow, I’m getting on a plane and flying to paradise for 2 weeks of sun, fun and Naughty Miss Jones style adventures with one of my favourite ladies. Woot woo!
There is something about holidays and their ability to clear the head; time to reflect, to assess, to create new goals (between the drinking, swimming and flirting with cute foreigners, of course).
Turns out I’ve always been a holiday time thinker…
Last night, while searching for one of those European adapter thingies, I pulled down the backpack I had not used since I was 23. The adapter wasn’t in there (of course), but what I did find was a travel journal. A single page was written on.
The words, however, were not a recount of my trek through various European highlights.
Instead, the page was headed “Why You Need To Get Over Him”. Thereafter, my 23 year old self had written a list of 25 or so reasons why I needed to get over ‘him’. They ranged from the sad (‘he won’t hold your hand in public’), to the fearful (‘he has been unfaithful before, he will again’), to the funny (‘your sex life with him is so vanilla’).
Aside from being impressed by the extent to which I had embraced my own sexuality at the tender age of 23 (I didn’t think that came till later), I found the entire thing so bloody sad. I bawled my eyes out as I read through the list and the processed the memories it evoked. I cried because I realised how sad and insecure the whole shomozzle had made little 23 year old me. Having written this list, I had obviously recognised the negative influence ‘he’ was in my life, and being removed, believed I had the strength to tell ‘him’ to bugger off.
I was wrong. In fact… I’m pretty sure I called him from the car on the way home from the airport. As a result, I subjected myself to many more years of the same shitty treatment.
As I read through that list, what I really wished was that I could turn back time and tell 23 year old me she was on the right track, and she did have the strength to cut him out of her life. Hindsight is a marvellous thing.
So, what would 29 year old me write in my travel journal that future 35 year old me would wish I had had the guts to stick to? I’m pretty sure it’ll be something to do with not giving up on my goals, and not letting life’s little roadblocks get me down. I’ll wait till I’m on holidays and my head is all clear to write that list though (when I’m not drinking, swimming and flirting with cute foreigners, of course).
I look forward to sharing my adventures with you over the next couple of weeks. And for the many of you who have asked, yes, I will be taking some toys with me. A girl needs her creature comforts after all!
Naughty Miss Jones xx