Somehow the girls have made it out to go bikini shopping before 10am. I wasn’t invited to join them. That’s fine, they don’t do bikinis my size.

Watching them in action last night was a powerful reminder that they’d intended to be over here on their own. After their strip-poker prick-teasing, they nearly left without me. It was Hong Kong airport all over again.

“Er, hello?” My hand had reached from the depths of that bloody beanbag.

You know what they said?

“Oh. We’d completely forgotten all about you.”

It’s hard not to take that personally… but I think I get it. They planned this trip expecting it to be two Essex Birds, flying wild and free in Oz. Instead, they got me tagging along like a big gay third wheel. What Bev said last night is probably true, I DO need to lighten up. If they want to wear more make-up than clothes who the hell am I to argue? Maybe I’m just jealous that they’re getting some male attention. If I want some of my own, the only thing stopping me is me. Well, me and my big fat moon-face.

There I go again, slagging myself off. This is exactly what I need to stop doing. How will I ever find a nice guy if I don’t think I deserve one? If Hamish ever did take me up on one of my veiled threats of intimacy, I expect I’d probably run screaming. He deserves so much better than me.

I’m only just beginning to realise how much Phil messed my head up. And do you know what sucks the most? No matter how far I travel, my head is the only thing I can never leave behind.

The Teaching Twosome made it back to our room close to noon, having left them going at it like particularly vocal rabbits back at the student flat.

“Oof, I’m hanging like a ball sack,” Steve groaned, rubbing his temples.

Nancy grabbed their towels from the end of their beds, turned him around, and they headed straight out again.

“We’re off to the beach!” she trilled, far too chirpy for my liking. “We’re going to sleep right through our hangovers and tan at the same time. Tara!”

I couldn’t help but notice she was walking a bit bow-legged.

“Did you have a good night?” I shouted after her, smirking to myself. I know I would’ve done. You could have cracked nuts on those abs of his. I would happily have offered mine.

“Oh yes,” she called back. “We both love bowling.”

They can’t realise the walls were so thin. Maybe they don’t care. All that squeaking and slurping had sounded like a sink-plunger being used in a bowl of soup.

Aaaannd now I’m horny. Luckily I’ve got the room to myself for a bit.

… Holy fuck. Why is my EX phoning me?

What a wanker. Not me, I never got the chance.

Phil called. He wanted to pop over. He had absolutely no idea I was in Australia, so I kept him talking as long as possible to crank up his phone bill.

Do you know WHY he wanted to pop over? He wanted a shag. And this is despite him having a NEW BOYFRIEND. Who isn’t even the bloke I caught him sleeping with. He gleefully informed me that they’d got together the weekend after we split up which, if I remember correctly, was about the time I was considering driving into a wall.

“By the way, babes,” he added, in an offhand way. “I’ve done you a little favour, to get you back out there.”

I had a sinking feeling. “What did you do, Phil?”

“Now, don’t be mad, babes, I know what you get like. I just don’t want you to have any hard feelings. Not unless they’re caused by a cock up the shitter, anyway, mhaha.”

“Philip. What did you do?”

“Nothing. Not really. I’ve set you up on Grindr, that’s all. I had some old pics of you that weren’t totally horrendous.”


“You never sent me any dick pics, so I’ve used a photo of my arse instead, just to spice it up. It was taken at a really bad angle, so it could be yours from a good one.”


“You should check it out, babes,” he said. “Chunkybutt22. I’ll text you the password. I’ve put that you’re into anything so it might get even you some interest.”

Wow. What a massive dick. Without the massive dick, obvs.

“You can thank me when I get to yours. Get yourself cleaned up.”

In just a few minutes, he had somehow managed to send me past shock, through anger, and into some kind of white-hot raging calm that I have never experienced before in my life. I took a deep breath, put on my sweetest voice, and tried to keep it from shaking like my hands were.

“Whilst I appreciate the thought, Philip (he hates that), I am not about to be your NEW bit on the side thank you very much, and I have no need for Grindr,” I said. “I’m having more than enough mind-blowing sex without resorting to yours or the internet’s help.”

“Oh, really!”

“What I would like, however, is to warn this poor clueless fella you’re now seeing. I’d like to tell him that his new boyfriend is as absent of morals and kindness as he is of brains and girth, and I’d suggest that he got out now whilst he still has his dignity.”

I then casually dropped into conversation that I was in Australia anyway so it was unlikely he had enough petrol to get to me, before shouting “Coming gorgeous!” to an empty room and hanging up on the fucker.

Having ignored the ringing for a good half hour, I finally answered my phone when it started to make one of my eyelids twitch. Phil had done a bit of online stalking and had confirmed that I wasn’t making it up, I was officially in Aus, and he was fuming.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing? Who said you could go?” Etc.

I lay on the floor as he vented, and I realised how tired I was of all his bullshit. Hearing him rant was so familiar, but a bit of distance from him seemed to have taken all the power out of it. When the yelling and the C-bombs started, I put my phone down and nipped out to the vending machine to get something for lunch. I picked it up again a few minutes later and he was still in full flow, but he’d switched to his ‘hurt puppy’ voice which had always been effective on me in the past.

“Your poor mum, left all behind on her own. Don’t you want us to remain friends? You said you cared for me…” Etc.

I felt a brief twinge of sympathy, but I bit my tongue instead of doing what I normally did, which was to apologise for making him do wrong in the first place, so he switched back to being arse and tried that tact again.

I took the phone out into the common room so I didn’t have to be alone with him any longer.

“Are you quite finished?” I interrupted, sounding bored despite shaking like a chilly epileptic.

“Wha -?!”

I’ve never cut him off mid-shout before.

“I said, ‘Are you done?’ Only I’ve got things to do and people to see. Actually, no, it’s the other way around.”

There was a lengthy pause whilst he processed this.

“Fuck you. It’s not me calling anyway, it’s the whiskey,” he spat. “I’ll regret it in the morning.”

“Well I regret it already,” I said sweetly. “But then, you always were slower than me weren’t you.”

And then I hung up again and had a little cry.


I felt so proud of how I handled myself earlier, that I’ve gone and done something I might regret.

It started with a bit of retail-therapy. Feeling the first twinges of self-respect I’d had in a long time, I got myself some shorts that actually showed off my knees and a couple of t-shirts that were not only short-sleeved but sleeve-less. I also bought a pair of new jeans specifically because they were descibed as ‘straight and relaxed’ and I appreciated the irony, being neither.

I’d seen the piercing parlour and walked in without even thinking.

I was told to sit down and ignore the screams, and within moments a cross-eyed man wearing a white lab-coat and latex gloves was leaning over me. In a burst of coffee breath, he suggested he put a metal spike through my eyebrow, and naturally, I said yes.

Cool! I thought as he screwed the end in place. I have a piercing!

Then I found a mirror.

I have a whacking great silver bar through my left eyebrow and it looks huge and obvious and it doesn’t fit my face.

Maybe the girls will like it? I thought, nervously. They’ve got fashion sense. What would I know?

I ran back to the hostel feeling extremely self-conscious, and found the girls sorting through a heap of designer shopping-bags.

“How can knickers so small cost so much money?” Bev was saying.

“Oh-my-fuck,” said Rachel, staring at my face. She’d spotted the new addition straight away and it had made her drop her Prada. Not a good sign. “What ya do that for?”

My heart dropped. “Oh…” I looked to my best friend for her opinion. “Bev?”

She grimaced. “Sorry, Kev. It’s really not my cup of soup.”

Great. So I am now a munter with metal in his face.

Sadly, I mumbled, “I just wanted to mark the occasion.”

I told them all about standing up to Twat Flaps, and I wiped a tear from my eye and blamed the piercing.

“Lucky you never sent him a knob shot, eh?” said Bev. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t. I know how much you love all that romantic stuff.”

“Romance is not uploading a photo of your bits and bobs!” I laughed. “Besides, what are you gonna do with it? Download it and shove it up ya? Waste of time.”

She was right, though. It was more down to luck than judgement. There’s no way he would’ve kept something like that to himself. “Besides, my dick is so big I’d obviously have to use Dropbox to send the photo,” I shrugged.

“Never mind all his crap,” said Rachel. “You gonna use the profile or what?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” I snapped, and turned in a huff.

“So that’s not a no then?” she laughed.

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