Visiting a new neighbourhood, city, county, country or continent will always result in cultural exchange. And even when you think you know a lot about a certain place and their habits, once you live that reality for a few days, you will understand it better or be shocked by it. Making out with O. showed me a side of English Boys that I didn’t know existed. Not a good one, by the way.

On a Tuesday, Sar, my boss, came to pick me up at the station. I wasn’t in the greatest mood. I was feeling like shit, to be honest. The day before the trip, I arrived in London with my heart broken after spending a confusing weekend in Sheffield with J., who I was madly in love with. It was obvious we didn’t have a future together, but he kept giving me hope.

Sar. showed up with Violetta, who ended up becoming a really close friend of mine. My friendship with Violetta grew quite quickly while my dislike for the crew grew as well. They were really demanding and treated me like a kid. And, oh how that annoys me. All I could do was to breathe in, breathe out. To make things worse, one day prior to the beginning of the festival, I was on my own in the living room of my bosses’ house and Mrs. Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel aka the song that reminded me of the J. starts playing on the radio. I text him and no reply. After not hearing from him, I decided I was gonna do whatever it took to feel better and have a great weekend.

The first day of the festival consisted of sitting around in the office while Sar was getting drunk with her friends. Whenever the other bosses showed up, they would treat me like an idiot and roll their eyes when something didn’t go their way. They created the festival, so they could hang out with friends and get wasted. Not my kind of scene. I was always trying to escape from the office to get some fresh air and catch some bands. Music has always been the best medicine and if there is a live band playing, it’s even better.

Stuck in the office, having to deal with stupid people and to make my life better…I couldn’t sleep. I’m a tropical person and I can’t deal with cold. I can’t camp, that’s my tough reality. For the first 3 days, I had suffered a lot and eventually, managed to sleep in the boss’ house for one evening. It doesn’t matter how many layers of clothes I have; at some point, I’ll be shaking like a leaf, go to the toilet 20 times during the night and my teeth will chatter. I couldn’t think of a worse scenario.

On one of my returns from a lovely visit to a delightful chemical loo, I couldn’t sleep anymore; so I sat in my tent waiting to fall asleep. Minutes later, I hear noises coming from outside. I open my tent and see O. standing there looking to nowhere. He was a cool guy and we had talked a couple of times in the office. I asked him what he was doing standing there. He said he couldn’t remember, but was probably going back to his tent, which was literally next to mine. We started talking for a while until we realised how ridiculous it was (and how my neck was hurting) to talk to him while he was standing and I was sat. He talks about spending some time living in Australia, planning to move somewhere else in England, but doesn’t know where, trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life etc. I talk about my aspirations in life, moving to London, recommend him to move to Brighton and so on. It was truly a pleasant conversation. A chilled one for 1am or 2am.

He decides then to lay down in my tent and invites me to do the same. The seconds between being sit down with my legs crossed and laying next to him, my instinct tells me this might end up in a complete different direction from what I expected, which was to have a good conversation with a co-worker. As my back hits the floor and I continue the conversation, he kisses me. During the kiss, I can only think about the fact that, at least, that night I wouldn’t feel cold and mostly importantly, I was telepathically screaming “See, J., you didn’t want me?! I got someone else!”. J. and I started talking again after that, but until this day, he has no idea what happened at the festival.

My plan was to just kiss, cuddle and stay warm for night, but O. wanted more. All of a sudden, when I realised, he was already taking off my trousers. Well, all my 3 trousers. I ask him if he is sure, after all I was dirty from being onsite for so many days, and he replies saying he would happily go down on me any day. I look up, take a deep breath and when I try to understand how the hell that happened, his tongue is already in the right place. Later, I return the favour and, at some point, we realize we don’t have a condom. It didn’t seem devastating as we were having a great time that way. We didn’t even sleep and stayed awake making out until 7am, which was when I had to kick him out of my tent because I needed to start working at 8am. Before leaving, he suggested I should sleep in his tent the next day and we could spend the weekend together. Sounded great to me! He even mentioned trying to get a condom with someone from his crew. Most importantly, we agreed on not telling anyone about this.

As I start my shift, I bump into him and another co-worker and it seemed like nothing had happened that night. Perfect! The sun goes down and I can’t find O., so I go back to my tent to unsuccessfully try to get some sleep. On one of my classical visits to the toilet, some co-workers invite me to go to the silent disco and, because my night was already a disaster, I go. We dance for a while and I ask one of them if they had seen O. She says he was somewhere at the disco, but hadn’t seen him. I get tired and head back to my tent.

24 hours later and I still hadn’t seen O. And as the night was arriving, so was the cold, which meant not getting any sleep. My solution? Make out with him again. I went straight to his stage, but when I got there, he was busy. We exchanged “hi”s and I waited for a bit to see if we could talk. After waiting for too long, I left and planned to come back a bit later. As I’m heading back to his stage, I bump into him.

“Hey. Do you wanna come to my tent tonight?”

“Nah. I’m gonna get high with friends until the sunrise”

Wait, WHAT?! I could not believe my ears. He chose drugs over sex?! He prefers getting wasted with a bunch of guys than having a naked girl laying with him?! My first instinct was to scream “Gaaaaaay!” “Hey everybody, this guy is denying pussy”.

After explaining this situation to my English girlfriends, they said his attitude wasn’t surprising.

The next day was “leave the site/go home” day, so I had the pleasure of putting down my tent next to him. The whole crew spent the day together: talking, eating, hanging out — and I had to spend the afternoon with him staring at me, but not saying a word. In fact, he said goodbye to everybody, except for me.

A month goes by, he adds me on Facebook and contacts me. Says he is my neighbour in London and would like to meet up. I’m not doing anything, so I agree. On the day, we were suppose to grab some coffee, I get home tired from work and tell him I stay at home and watch movie. I ask if he wants to come along, but he says we can meet up another day then. Coward!

Weeks go by and he invites me out again. This time, I don’t reply. I can’t be bothered with morons.