🛳️ Foreign Affairs Vol. 0: Cruise Control - Episode 5

Side Quests & Shipwrecks - how I accidentally ended up on Real Housewives of the Mediterranean

I thought the solo traveler meetup on Day 1 would be innocent.
Wholesome, even.

I figured I’d sip a spritz, swap itineraries with some middle-aged retirees, and call it a day.

But then the liquor kicked in.
The Mediterranean shimmered just right.
Someone queued up ABBA.

And suddenly?
We were in an unsupervised international rom-com.

---

About 25% of the group was around my age.
The rest were just slightly older than my parents — but cool, kind, and clearly down for an adventure.

By the end of day two, it was obvious:
Some of these women didn’t just come for sun and sightseeing.
They came for something else.
And the men? More than ready to meet them there.

We had:

• One love triangle

• One woman playing two men for perks

• One pairing that was weirdly sweet (I genuinely hope they’re still in touch)

---

There was one woman — eccentric, opinionated, and definitely a bit of a stirrer.
She claimed she was just there for good conversation and a view, but we all saw her working the dinner circuit.
And hey, I respect the hustle — until she came to me and my friend with this story:

“He was so rude… and in the middle of dinner, he pulled out a vibrator and stuffed it down my shirt.”

Ma’am??

To this day I don’t know if it was lore or real, but it was wild enough to become cruise canon.
(Also — pretty sure security would’ve had something to say if that actually happened.)

---

Then there was the German guy (not German Adonis, don’t worry).
He hit on everyone. Loudly. Badly. Persistently.

I was his Day 1 target.
He told me:

“A girl like you never goes for a guy like me.”
Which… okay, maybe not. But also? That’s not the pitch, sir.

Then came the line that almost made me throw my drink:

“Because if you did, you’d be bent over that speaker right now.”

I wish I was kidding.

He kept getting rejected — and the poutier he got, the worse the flirting became.
Pity is not foreplay, and rejection is not oppression.
I hope he's learned.

---

And then — there was Lottie.

Queen. Legend. American icon.
She wasn’t chasing passengers.
She was flirting with the crew.

Bartenders, waiters, you name it — she had them wrapped.
And honestly? We were all in her fan club.
She was fun, radiant, and somehow always at the center of the room without being exhausting.
I wish I had gotten her contact info.
Lottie, if you’re reading this… I miss you.

---

Not every cruise story ends in romance.
Some end in chaos.
Some in delusion.
Some in regret.
And some — if you’re lucky — in a story you’ll tell again and again over drinks.

Or on the internet.

---

Ever ended up in a vacation soap opera you didn’t audition for?
Drop your best “side quest” moment in the comments — I know you’ve got one.

💸 Enjoying the chaos? Buy me a coffee — or a cocktail, depending on how unhinged this series gets. ☕🍸
It fuels the writing, the questionable decisions, and the courage to keep oversharing.