This post is a bit long, but you’ll enjoy it nonetheless. I promise!
Well, whaddaya know, turns out I am irresistible! Go figure.
Fun fact: recently I’ve decided to take up battle with my hormones. If you don’t know me well enough: my hormones have a history of making me physically sick and their evil influence increased over time. To shut them down I went on hormone-regulated medicine, which worked fine for years, but started to show signs of weakness not too long ago.
I decided to tackle this problem once and for all. Step one was to stay off my medication and let my hormones think they run the show again, so I could knock ’em down for good.
As it turns out, though, after years of being suppressed, my hormones are quite slow on taking over. Meanwhile, I am experiencing some inconveniences of hormonal shifts in my body, such as being bloated.
Mainly being bloated.
And at that point, I’d like to start off my irresistible I-went-on-a-trip-to-Romania-story: a very bloated (and equally unhappy) me with my eldest sister W embarking on a foreign adventure.
Whether it were my hormones or the influences of the scorching sun melting everyone’s minds I do not know. What I do know is that during that seven day trip through Romania, I could have picked at least three guys to come home with me.
Now, if you didn’t know about my Battles Of The Hormones, you’ll probably also not know about my commitment issues. And by issues, I mean phobia. Anyone coming too close too fast to my likings, is met with an icy cold wall of ignorance, a silent treatment so quiet it’ll make you think I went deaf overnight, and me strapping on my running shoes quicker than you could mouth “I like you”, to run as far away from you as inhumanly possible.
Feel free to laugh about commitment-phobic me and three interestees. But save some for later when it truly becomes hysterical.
Guy one was the lone traveller of our group. If you’ve ever went on a group travel, then you know there’s always at least one person in that group travelling alone. Just them. And the group.
Our lovely loner was a quiet, decent man who soon gave me the idea of being *yikes* into me. Luckily I had W, who disagreed wholly with that theory. So I did something quite unnatural: I stopped panicking.
Then one talkative night, the loner’s reaction to finding out I am single was a little too excited to my likings. But instead of hopping into my comfortable runners, I simply told him I am not looking for a relationship and left it at that. Result: no panic and no wooing. In that order.
Guy two was a bartender/waiter at a Romanian restaurant. W and me went there for a drink one night and we got chatting as I asked him after traditional Romanian food. He showed us the full menu and wouldn’t stop talking. At one point I mentioned W nearly breaking her neck due to the poor street work, after which W vows she heard him say to me: “Luckily it wasn’t you.”
And when me, W, the loner and a young couple went to dine at his restaurant on our last night in Romania, I kept receiving my food and drinks first and he kept growing more nervous every time he visited our table. But even after the woman of the couple jokingly mentioned: “Now I know why you wanted to come back here!” I managed not to freak out.
The worst one, though, was guy three: our final day consisted of a few hours in Bucharest and then flying back to Amsterdam. The weather had been too hot to wear my PJ’s, and I had slept in my underwear the whole week. Anticipating another uncomfortable flight (I swear my legs are too long!), I had put on my pyjama bottoms already. They are old sweatpants and nothing else I own is more comfortable.
So there I was, roaming Bucharest with twenty-three others, wearing my pyjama bottoms and being bloated still. The sun was out and I was slowly melting, so all in all I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever looked less appealing on a holiday.
“Like a moth getting trapped in the light by fixation, truly free, love it, baby” – from: Irresistible by Fall Out Boy
Our guide, showing us around the capital city, suddenly spotted some policemen. He made his way over and our guide asked: “Who wants a picture with the police?”
Many of the ladies from our group, me included (still bloated, in pyjama bottoms and sweaty) eagerly posed next to the officers.
I mean… men in uniforms… I may have commitment issues, but I am not fully immune, thank you.
Afterwards, one of the officers rushed over to me (still bloated, in pyjama bottoms and sweaty) and asked to see the picture and if I could send it to him (NOOOO), so I said “Sure!” and he gave me his name to look him up on Facebook.
Now, even though I have no intention of ever reaching out to him (I thought he was quite creepy, despite his uniform), I still said yes because I was afraid of what he might do if I turned him down.
But that’s not the point. The real point is, I am irresistible (and still bloated and sweaty. It’s too hot for pyjama bottoms though).
No matter how sh*t I think I look, somehow, some people disagree. And no matter how lost I feel as a love cause, somehow, some people disagree.
I don’t get it either, but what I do get is that something has changed. Besides my hormones.
My perception of love, my panic attacks, my scares… Perhaps it was the magic of Romania, but I believe something inside me is no longer the same. Maybe it is time to let go of those old, comfortable running shoes, that silent treatment I carry around in case I need it, and my icy cold wall of ignorance. I honestly think I’ve outgrown them.
Maybe there’s hope for me yet 🙂
Oh, and about Dracula: he’s never really lived in Dracula’s Castle. Go figure.