I have entered a phase in which I am attractive (-ive, not -ed, although that happens sometimes too) to the hostel staff. It’s obvious right away when it happens. There is a particular reaction immediately upon meeting me, almost a double-take, that says “I shall try to bed you this week”. And it’s WEIRD.

Have people always been this obvious? Does it spark some sort of subconscious submission? It seems contradictory, quite the opposite of hunting. Imagine the lion indicating to a zebra, “I’ve got my eye on you, boy; get ready for the chase.” I’m pretty sure the zebra doesn’t just take that sort of thing in stride.

For me, I immediately start analyzing the situation. I ask myself “how difficult will it be to keep other people around while I determine the level of crazy?”, “what exactly is my limit with this one?”, “what is the return on my investment?”, and especially “am I even in the mood to play the game this week?”.

OF COURSE I use it to my advantage. Sure, sugar, we can flirt, while you accompany me on a hike that I wouldn’t otherwise know, while you share your spliffs that I am too cowardly and apathetic to buy for myself, while I practice Spanish and drink free wine. And while I boost my ego a couple of points because even though you’re not looking for anything resembling dating or friendship or even a Facebook connection, there is something you fancied about me. (Often it’s the boobs; it’s fairly evident. And the eyes; I still get that a lot. These men – always men – are not serious.)

(Before the hate-mail starts: I am always awkwardly honest about the amount of physical contact – ie: basically none – he can expect in return. We both know the arrangement from the start.)

This has happened before, of course, on this trip and others (‘member those lines about watching the stars? the never-ending machismo? that homestay that one time?). But the days have progressed and we are definitely into high season. And I, as I continue to search for the meaning of life and what I will be when I grow up, feel a bit susceptible to the romantic notions of a foreign affair, a life abroad, a long-term companion, another devastating heartache. And not having to carry my backpack for a few months 😉

Luckily it takes very little will power to resist, as the idea of having even one more bout of bad sex in my life – and the lack of waxing salons – is chastening enough to keep me from even considering anything more than a dainty kiss “good night”.