Inevitably whenever I am scorned, heartbroken or mildly upset I always seem to end up in Amsterdam – coincidently of course!
Firse time round about 18 months ago, I found myself being dropped off by an entourage of parents and friends making sure I wasn’t going to throw myself under a wheel plane after finding out (an hour before) my long term partner has been cheating on me all of which was found out on glorious facebook. For the whole 30 minute flight I was resisting the urge to cry and in true British fashion no one even looked me in the eye!
The trip I recall was all a bit blurry, I had originally booked to go visit my brother who was living in the capital at the time. So because he was working I found myself wondering around by myself, miserable, I couldn’t eat and all I seemed to do was drink – which if you tell the bars you’re a scorned women they tend to pout you wine glassed full of tequila so needless to say my first trip to Dam I was numb.
The second trip, which I have only recently returned from, was initially a fun packed trip with friends. January is often a pretty rubbish month – so the idea was to perk things up a little bit. Now I would look to say this time round It was supposed to pose better than the previous however – about a week before I was once again left high and dry by a man. A less serious affair so I didn’t let it get to me, however – I think the Dam may curse me!
But being Melissa Faux, never let it get the better of me, so we had two nights of maddness, art, gay bars and drag queens and to top it apparently those Dutch men on Tinder love a bit of British!