The beach I looked out on to every morning!

Ladies and gentlemen, there is a certain je’n sais quoi about writing a blog post from a beach hut in Bali. It makes you feel infinitely cooler than you actually are.

That aside, I thought I’d share one of my not-so-cool stories from my little holiday to the paradise island; one involving Bintang, purple sunsets, last walks along the beach…and supreme awkwardness, naivety and complete cowardliness on my part.

Since I’m in Bali alone (this seems to provide many a shock and awe response since the only girls I’ve seen in my little corner of surfing paradise are ‘beach babes’ – the girlfriends of surfers: cool cheerleaders, if you will), I’ve upped and outed of my comfort zone and been trying to chat to different people. There’s a big transient community here so it’s quite easy to strike up a conversation and then move on to the next place or person.

Being new to this whole, making-conversation-with-strangers malarky, I thought everyone here was chilled and easy going and before long had met a sweet couple from Portugal, who left a few days after I arrived, some fun kiwis who made me giggle in to my Bintang (local lager which I now drink, purely because it’s a 1/4 of the price of a coke), who also left shortly after I met them, and finally, an Aussie guy and his brother, who seemed nice enough and easy to talk to.

Unbeknownst to me, the chilled drinks overlooking the sea and odd meals we just happened to order at the same time, were apparently impromptu dates. Stupidly, I thought that at least both members of the date, preferably plus one or two other interested parties, like friends, should know something was a date before it actually officially became one. It appears I was mistaken. And there’s me, not remotely attracted to this guy and smelling pretty much like a combination of coconut and sweat the entire time. Romantic.

Yesterday, said Aussie suggested we go for a wander along the beach in the afternoon. I’m thinking, ‘Yea, that’ll be cool…watch the surfing, see a bit more of the coastline, get myself off my sun lounger…’. Well, you can imagine how mortified I was when, at the far end of the beach, he whips out a towel and says, ‘Shall we sit here for a bit?’, whilst magically producing two Bintang from his man-bag (yep!) and a bottle opener and handing me one.

Obviously, purely for the shock, I took the lager and gulped it down, all the while perching on a really uncomfy pointy rock, having politely declined the offer to sit next to him on the towel.

One drink later, I get up and brightly suggest that it’s really time we walk back, refusing the offer of a second lager, produced from same man-bag. Then, as if in slow motion, in perfect holiday-romance, chick-flick fashion, he leans in and I know exactly what’s coming next. In my head, I’m screaming ‘No!!!’ and high-tailing it back down the beach to civilisation as fast as my peeling heels will take me, but instead, conscious of his feelings and the fact that I could never actually run five mins down the beach, so I’d have to walk back with him after this, I let his tongue worm around my mouth. After the obligatory 5 seconds, I pull away, pick up my flip-flops and stride purposefully back down the beach and bid him farewell.

Now, why did I decide to tell you this embarrassing little holiday story?

I did the one biggest thing I tell my clients NOT to do – I pandered to someone else’s needs before thinking about my own.

I know many people still find my thoughts on this really selfish, but it’s proved right time and time again; so I’m going out on a limb and actually saying that I think I’m right here – if you’re not happy, there’s no way you’re able to sustain making other people truly happy. How can you share joy when you don’t have any of your own to share?

I should have stopped Aussie guy then and there, ‘Hey mister, put your tongue right back where it belongs please!’, but instead I let him kiss me, meaning I had to spend the next two days being short to him hoping he’d finally get the hint and stop popping up everywhere (by my sun lounger by the pool, outside my room terrace…not even kidding!) until I eventually gave in and had to tell him rather less gently than I would have liked that I actually, was not interested in some half-arses holiday romance with someone I didn’t fancy.

Moral of the story – follow your gut, and look after your own needs first!