January 2012

Well Hotties, it’s that time of year again; once again Valentines Day is looming ahead of us and travel companies have been brainwashing tempting us with weekends away in some of Europe’s many romantic destinations…

If you ask people what their ideal way to spend Valentines day with their loved one is, you’re bound to hear a chorus of the usual haunts; a bottle of wine in Paris, a gondola ride in Venice, or even sharing some spaghetti in Rome… just like Lady and the Tramp.

But for me, you can’t get much more romantic than lying on a beach in Spain, enjoying a fishbowl delicate lady-sized glass of Sangria.

I don’t know whether it’s the language, the food… or just too much Sangria in the heat, but there’s something about the local lifestyle that is just so exotic and sexy…

That said, possibly one of the most un-romantic moments of my life occurred in this beautiful country…

We were staying in a beautiful little Spanish village, when I dragged myself out of bed at all hours of the morning, snuck out of the house and headed down to the supermarket to stock up on ingredients for the perfect romantic Champagne-breakfast…

…Yes, OK, I lied. In reality it was so hot I could barely breathe, I’d been eaten alive by mosquitos and was so desperately hungover that I headed out in search of orange juice and carbs like my life depended on it.

But the point is I went to the Supermarket at 9am and bought breakfast… so that makes me a good girlfriend!

Anyway… as always I had completely misjudged the sheer amount of shopping I could carry, and halfway home began to lag…

Suddenly, like an angel a young Spanish man emerged from the dust-storm that surrounded me… and headed over to help me with my shopping…

What a gentleman…

…or so I thought. 

All of my illusions of chivalry were squashed when the young Spanish man whipped out his raging erection and started to masturbate dramatically in front of me.

What the actual fuck?

Honestly, it took me a good few seconds to really take the situation in…

WHY was this young Spanish man furiously wanking in front of me?

I tried to step around him… only for him to leap infront of me again… well, I say leap, it was really more of an awkward scuttle – after-all he did have his pants around his ankles and a hard-on.

Swearing at him in my best Spanish accent; “Fuckio Youo… PERV” I, quite literally, grabbed my bags and RAN back to the apartment.

So there you have it kids, you can keep your Paris, you can even keep your meal overlooking the Colosseum, the Spanish town of Torrevieja is clearly where the magic really happens. 

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