In the past, when I was feeling lonely or emotionally empty, I’d fill the hole with a causal sex affair. A woman who didn’t ask me to invest anything into her. By plugging the hole this way, I avoided dealing with my real issue: Me. But Me didn’t ever go away. Me was still there after the casual relationship and Me still needed fixing…
So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that a major reason I travelled to Thailand was for a hook up. An ex-affair had called me out of the blue a few days after my breakup with Claire. She was now living in Australia and had just broken off with her boyfriend. She was looking for unchained rebound sex and interested in meeting in Thailand. We agreed to travel together in Thailand and meet in Ko Kut, the island next door to Ko Mak. It’s secluded enough that you can swim naked in the surf but still get a nice cocktail in the evening at the bar.
We rode all around the little island with a scooter and found a very small (non-touristy) living fisherman’s village, Ao Salat. All their houses are up on anemic-looking wooden peers. The fishermen sat on planks, sorted crabs and patched up the holes in their nets. The other highlights were finding the Klong Chao waterfall and hiking to the 300-year old Macca (the bar was closed).
I’m a little ashamed to admit it, because she was quite hot, but I didn’t have sex with Annie. The truth is that I was just sick of it all. Sick of the cycle. Sick of the affairs and sick of not facing up to fixing Me. Annie was quite pissed off. After a week of traveling, she then split off on her own.
What to do after a breakup to drown out the pain? Rebound sex? Eat? Train for a marathon? Meditate? Is there a “right” way to deal with all the emotions and then come out at the other end in a better, healthier more fulfilled place?
Damn. I really sound chipper in that last video, but the truth is that I was a total wreck. That’s what Facebook does to our posts. You paint the world pink when in reality we are hurting. Because we don’t cry out, nobody comes. There isn’t anyone there for us, because expressing how we really feel, doesn’t get any likes. Fuck you, Facebook.
I shot the last video after being there on Ko Mak for a week – sitting comatose in a hammock. Emotionally and physically I was empty. After the break up and quitting my job, I had poured all the energy I had left into getting rid of all my stuff & apartment while preparing for the upcoming bicycle trip. Now, there was nothingness. I literally drank my weight in coconut shakes, stared at the ocean and had a major pity party for myself. I had a lot to think about. What was wrong with me? What did I do wrong with Claire? Did I really just commit career suicide? What the fuck was I doing with my life?
There was one more thing I needed to let go of – a turtle. “Turtle” was the pet name I had given Claire. When I met her she was moving around London – each week a new apartment – while she waited for the sale on her own, new loft to be finalized. She carried her essential belonging around with her like a turtle, hence the nickname. I had bought a small glass turtle for her, as a kind of wink to our nickname secret, but I never had the chance to give it to her. So I brought it to Thailand to let it go.
Cycling around Ko Kut I discovered a small hidden beach, appropriately called “Turtle Beach”. It was the kind of place you should go together as a couple and hold each other watching the waves while forgetting that the rest of the world exist. I, however, went there with my turtle and sat under a tree. I cried. Then I put it on the edge of the surf and walked away.
A few days later and tired of feeling alone, I looked around. Anna, a beautiful blond with a soft smile, sat down at the table next to me. I just went over and introduced myself. “Want to have a chat?” We had this magical connection right away and talked for hours – about traveling, breaking up, Vipassana meditation. It was the kind of beautiful moment that happens very rarely in life. Two strangers without an agenda on an almost deserted island and nothing at stake.
(May 2013)
OXLAEY