Updated: Jan 29, 2021

Tell me the stupidest thing you’ve done for love. Ok, I’ll go first.

Here are a few short sentences to sum it up:

Seven days in Cabo. The potential for international love. A much needed escape route and five thousand dollars later.


It all started on a family holiday eight years ago when our flight got cancelled the day we were supposed to fly home from a beautiful, 10-day cruise in the Carribean. We arrived at the airport the next day and there he was. I can’t even put into words how hot this guy was. Tall, dark, handsome, tattooed and then to top it off, add an accent. My perfect man right before my eyes. As I creeped on this poor stranger, I prayed that he would be the one sitting beside my sister and I on the flight. Long story short, he wasn’t but we did exchange a few flirty glances and eventually started talking when he was in line waiting to use the washroom. Very romantic, if you ask me.

We get off the plane and start heading towards our connecting gates but my International Love is nowhere to be found. Sad, disappointed and upset - I go get something to eat because what else cures a broken heart but airport food? As I am looking over what food to get - who leans up on the wall beside me? Yes, you guessed it. My International Love. This was it. My serendipity moment - the stars were aligned. So we chat a little more and then friend each other on Facebook. He goes his way and I go mine. I must note this is all happening on NYE; so come on, talk about a way to start the new year.

Fast-forward seven years, my International Love and I were still exchanging messages back and forth. Not missing a beat - every holiday, special occasion and ‘just because’ messages were being sent. Facebook messaging moved to texting which led to Facetime. My dream was coming true.

The attraction was at an all time high, when we mutually agreed to meet in the middle (which at this point, was Mexico) for a getaway to finally spend some real life time together. Oh. My. God. YES! I DO!

It is important to note that my International Love is big into travel. He added a week in Cabo onto his itinerary before exploring that rest of Mexico with his friends for the next month. The timing had to be perfect for this to come together. I quickly booked the days off at work and tried to figure out how I could get my sister to join me. Luckily, she has a rubber arm so it didn’t take much convincing when I mentioned sun, margaritas, tacos and English guys.

(Cue Chris Harrison’s voice) We choose to forgo our individual all inclusive rooms and choose to spend a week in the “fantasy suite” aka a quaint Airbnb and everything seems to be perfect.


The day is finally here. My dream of finally getting to be with this man is coming true. Seven years later and 1K in “self-care” (lashes, waxing, tanning, manicure, name it. I got it) we are off, baby!

Now enter the Bachelor Party. Yup, you heard me.

Our flight was primarily old people who barely had a pulse and the Bachelor Party. Oh my, I don’t even know where to begin with these guys but let me tell you that they will forever hold a special place in my heart.

These guys were not hard on the eyes and were out to have a TIME but so were we. So naturally, we exchange laughs, drinks and numbers to link up and grab dinner later that evening. Both my sister and I are buzzing off of the prosecco, finally arriving in Mexico and being surrounded by hot guys. Sister trip is off to a damn good start if you ask me.


After calling it an early night due to getting caught in a monsoon and not being able to meet up with the Bachelor Party, we woke up ready for THE big day. I hate to honestly share this but the thing is - I had this awful feeling in my gut that my International Love and I were not going to get along. Don’t ask me why or how, I just knew. The panic rushed over my sister's face. She offered me encouraging and supportive words, as any big sister would - she then tried to reason with me that “I was just nervous” and that “everything would be fine.”

Why did I feel that this was suddenly wrong? I tried to talk myself out of having a panic attack, but as luck would have it, in the middle of the crisis my phone buzzed with a text from - you guessed it, the Bachelor Party. Perfect timing.

Their text read: “Come meet us for breakfast! There will be mimosas and tequila” so naturally bend our rubber arms, we were sold. We had six hours until my International Love and his friends arrived from Mexico City. Game on.

Brunch with the guys was by definition a hilarious disaster. Tequila, another monsoon and Mango Deck (if you know you know) - could life be better? Watch out world, we were on (a messy) cloud 9.

The day progresses; one beach bar to the next and ends with me jumping into the pool, phone in hand. I was still subconsciously waiting for my International Love to text that they had landed in Cabo.

Within minutes of me jumping into the pool. I click on my phone and a picture shows the England boys in the Airbnb, sitting on the counter, our liquor in hand. The confusion and utter panic rushes across my face. The tequila buzz is gone and now I have a thousand questions running through my brain.

“How did they get in?” "We have both keys.” “Why wouldn’t he have texted me that they landed?” “What the fuck is going on?”

I rounded up my sister, and we somehow managed to make our way to the Villa. To be honest, I generally pride myself on how I look and act but on this day, you would not know that. We were both a little water logged and a little tequila drunk but we finally made it back to our shared accommodation. We met my International Love and his friends. Things seemed to be ok. Not great, not bad, definitely not the Bachelor Party - but things were ok.


The next morning, I have the same pit in my stomach as I did the day previous. I shake off yesterday's festivities and start the day with an open and clear mind. We all agreed to have a pool day and to get to know more about each other.

Bad idea.

I ordered a clubhouse sandwich and a margarita to wash away yesterday's hangover (it is vacation after all) but instead my International Love decides to order a smoothie. Which is totally fine, you do you. But it was the fact that he claimed liquor was poison. Yes, you read that right - POISON. I found this interesting because his social media was covered in photos and stories from nights out on the town in bottle service. So again, I brush it off and try to have a conversation with him...yes, I mean try.

For those of you that know me, know I am very extroverted and can pretty much talk to anyone about anything. Believe me when I tell you I couldn’t even mention how nice the weather was without it being weird. I’m instantly turned off because I can’t understand how this person in front of me is so different from the person I have been virtually talking to for seven years. I make the best of the situation and begin hanging with my sister and his friends. Again it was okay - we have some fun, share a few laughs and begin to decide what we want to do that evening.

As the night rolls around, we decide to go into the town for dinner. Ah yes, a romantic dinner - this will surely be the moment everything comes together and we start to have some fun.

Wrong. This was the night that everything fell apart.

As a person who has worked countless years in the service industry - respect, kindness, patience and appreciation are basic graces. This is especially true when you are in a foreign country, where the locals work their asses off to make a fraction of what we are fortunate enough to make in Canada.

After we finally picked a restaurant my International Love deemed “appropriate,” we all sat down … me at one end, him at the other. We order dinner, share a bottle of wine, again... trying to make the best of this very awkward situation. The bill comes and we agree to all split it equally. My International Love rudely dismissed the idea because he only had tacos and one glass of wine, as opposed to me, who had a steak and maybe two glasses of wine. He is fucking peso pinching at the table.

After miscalculating, he throws money on the table, stands up and walks out. Leaving his friends, my sister and I at the table scrambling to cover and provide the waiter with a generous tip for having to put up with this disaster. That was the last straw. I was done.

I know this sounds like one little thing, but it showed me all the things I needed to know - this was definitely not going to work. It was the rudeness, disrespect, lack of care, and just being an asshole for me. We got home and my International Love, who will now be referred to as Mr. International pouted and went to bed - alone. I chose to sleep on the couch, as the fleas made for a better sleeping companion than what I was currently dealing with because at least they weren’t rude.


The next day, tensions were at an all time high and the guys wanted to go explore… a beach two hours away.

“Can you call the Uber” they say to me, as I sit there confused at this ask. “We don’t have data.”

If there is one thing I hate, it is cheap. My family has raised my sister and I to be generous, pay our way, and to never depend on a man for anything. But excuse me, after last nights dinner disaster - fuck that. I have more than paid my way. You’re on your own. Sorry not sorry.

After the boys finally decided which one of them was going to pay for an Uber, my sister and I decided to venture on our own for a much needed debrief. We escaped to a beautiful little beach bar and enjoyed some much needed margaritas, with each sip the stress began to fade away. Although still confused and hurt, I at least felt like I was on a holiday. To make matters significantly better … my phone buzzed from, you guessed it, the Bachelor Party.

“Come meet us for lunch!” We exchanged a hell yes glance and mutually agreed to go have some fun. The day went something much like the first. It was F-U-N. These were our people - they were out to have a fun vacation in the sun. After discussing on the first day why we were in Cabo, the Bachelor Boys inquired as to how Mr. International was and quickly picked up it was he absolute dud.

The best afternoon led into a much needed night out on the town. This was Cabo after all! My sister and I went home to shower and change - but we hadn’t heard much from the England boys so we were not sure what they were up to. Apparently they wanted very little to do with us as well because what did we walk into? Mr. International and his buddies eating dinner without so much as a courtesy to ask if we were hungry or wanted to join.

So much for a romantic trip. I guess we are roommates now, cool.

We get dressed and decide to extend an olive branch by asking if the boys wanted to join us for a night on the town. They decline saying they aren’t much into partying. Oh right, I forgot alcohol is poison that you apparently only partake in when you are not on vacation? Makes sense.

So off we go, the Bachelor Party and the sisters. For those of you who know Cabo, know El Squid Roe. The best place with the best music and the best vibe. We danced, we laughed, we made the most hilarious memories. I am not kidding when I said I felt euphoric, being surrounded by the most caring, protective, funny, light-hearted group of guys made me feel some kinda way. We decided to continue on and literally party all night long. This was the Bachelor Party’s last full day as real life called them home - so we said our goodbyes, thanked them for being the light in this otherwise very dull holiday and returned to the Villa.


As we got in, the England boys didn’t seem to care one way or another if we came home alive. We had kept them updated as to where we were because it was the responsible thing to do. Not one text was replied to and when we asked why they didn’t check on us, they said “you girls can handle yourself!”

Huh? I guess to them two girls wandering about in Cabo in the early morning hours seems safe - good thing we had one group to care about us. This was just another red-flag to add to the very long list of why I did not want to see Mr. International again.

As the day progressed, the guys must have felt mutually turned-off by my sister and I. They cooked dinner for themselves again, and they decided to cut their Cabo trip short and move onto the next stop in their Mexican adventure. Adios Amigos.

Although this was fine by us, they left us high and dry without accommodation. I am making outgoing calls to my parents, one after another. As they scramble to get us to a clean, safe and quiet place to spend our last few days.


Two thousand dollars later on top of a very expensive trip already - we arrive at Dreams Los Cabos. This place was heaven and I highly recommend it. We pay for the all-inclusive package because at this point, it's go big or go home. We relax into our room and head to the beach. My mind is going a thousand miles a minute - what the actual fuck had just happened? How could that have happened? Expectation is really the route of all heartache after all.

After a full day of debriefing on the beach, all my emotions of the last few days catch up to me.

Cue the waterworks.

I cried and I cried HARD. The snotty, gasping for air, kind of cry. There were so many emotions. I was sad, I was disappointed, I was exhausted and upset that this trip of a lifetime was an absolute shit show.

I was sad the euphoric and amazing time with the Bachelor Party was over. I was also grateful that I could finally release Mr. International from my mind completely after seven years, and I was grateful to have my sister by my side each day truly being my rock.

As I write this story, I look back on the experience and I feel so grateful. I no longer choose to harp on the negative parts of the trip, but choose to remember the happy, funny and incredible moments. When I say there were high, highs and low, lows - I mean it.

I think that all of our experiences teach us more about who we are. I learned that the grass isn't always greener and that there are two sides to every story. I learned that sometimes a hopeless romantic has to go through times of feeling completely hopeless. I learned that people are not as they seem on social media. I learned to surround myself with people who bring out my best self like the Bachelor Party did. I learned that it is important to always have a backup plan. I learned the importance of travelling with a person who will always have your back no matter what and I learned that life can be a beautiful and fucked up mess all at the same time.

As I finish this short-story off; I fully stand by the fact that my dating life is full of good content but understand the importance of not becoming jaded by the shitstorm that is dating these days. I am extremely grateful for the people who have and will continue to come into my life to teach me lessons that I didn’t think I needed to learn. You are all part of my story and for that, I am thankful.

But for now, I’ll be my own Prince Charming!

Cheers, xo

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