Camping, romance and trapped wind

Ahoy there friends! Happy new year! Feliz ano!

I have returned from my little NYE jaunt in glamorous Punta del Este with a smile on my face. Things with The Man get better every day. I am struggling to keep my hands off him. He has behaved perfectly in just about every respect.

Is he a unicorn? A mirage? Gay?

The whole situation is very strange and very unorthodox. Everything is back to front. We have moved in with each other, spent Christmas together and been on holiday with friends. All in the space of two weeks. I am not sure I approve of myself.

But how can you resist when the man is this good? Readers, seriously, he walked me round the camp site at 2am when I had trapped wind. Shall I repeat? HE WALKED ME ROUND THE CAMP SITE AT 2AM WHEN I HAD TRAPPED WIND. He did not run off into the night and hijack a luxury yacht from Punta with the aim of sailing as far away from me as he could, nor did he arrange to bunk up with one of the many nubile Brazilian girls who were drifting around the campsite wearing shorts so tiny that the whole bloody camp site just resembled one great big visible waxed crotch. No, instead, he walked round and round the site with me as I moaned and roared and then he rubbed my belly in our tiny tent until I shut the hell up and went to sleep.


He is a Good Person too. He stands up for the underdog; he clears up rubbish (people tend not to do that here.) He sits and talks to peoples’ parents when they come out here to visit their offspring. He goes and buys meat when the lump that we’re about to chuck on the BBQ turns out to be festering and maggoty. He arrives at peoples’ houses with champagne and empties my air conditioning bucket (This is not a vulgar metaphor, btw, I do just mean that he empties my air conditioning bucket).

And he makes me laugh. And I fancy him. And my friends think he is awesome. He’s even good at photographs. Using my tiny, rubbish, £60 camera he took the above shot of our gang. My best attempt at arty photography with the same camera was a blurred shot of my own arse. Don’t even ask.

Is it possible that I have met a Truly Awesome Man?

Ah, probably not. There’s bound to be something. Crabs. A penchant for urinating in my knicker draw. A wife. No-one is this good.

But for now I am content to drift around in my little fantasy world.


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