Foreign Affairs Vol. 1 (Part III) - The Santorini Invitation
The weekend I got ghosted in paradise and still fell in love.
It had been weeks since the Vespa ride.
Weeks since I told myself I wouldn’t force the story.
Since I met The Brit, fell for him, and let everything else fade.
But when that started to unravel — when The Brit began slipping away — something in me cracked open. And I thought:
What if I stopped waiting?
What if I stopped shrinking?
What if I let myself be wanted again?
So I answered Vespa Guy’s call.
“Anna? Hello? You’re still in Greece?”
“Yeah, I told you — I live here now.”
“So many people say that, but no one stays.”
And then:
“Come to Santorini. I’ll show you the island. We’ll have fun. You’ll be taken care of.”
It sounded perfect. Like the universe throwing me a bone.
So I booked my flight. Scored a cheap Airbnb. Sent him all the info. We talked nonstop that week — Wednesday through Friday — confirming every detail.
Friday came. After Greek class, I packed my bag and left for the airport, practically glowing. I even let it “accidentally” slip to The Brit that I had weekend plans… with someone else.
I landed in Santorini. Messaged him:
“Just got my bag.”
“Ahh yes, perfect,” he replied. “When you exit, turn right. I’m here.”
So I did.
And… he wasn’t.
I walked the length of the airport. Twice.
No Vespa. No guy. No texts.
I called. Nothing.
I texted again. Nothing.
And then I noticed: his WhatsApp profile photo had disappeared.
Blocked.
He had blocked me.
At first I was furious. Embarrassed. I had flown to a whole island for this man — and he couldn’t even lie properly.
But I refused to let that ruin my weekend.
Santorini is still one of the most beautiful places in the world.
My villa was dreamy. My host was a literal angel.
I booked a sunset catamaran cruise and blasted Mamma Mia with strangers.
I ate seafood on cliffs. I read my book in the sun. I danced alone on balconies.
It could have been a terrible story.
But I chose to make it a good one
.
We haven’t spoken since. We never will.
And honestly?
I’m not even mad anymore.
Because I got the better ending —
Not the love story with a Greek man…
but the love story with the Aegean.
The kind of love that doesn’t ghost you.
That doesn’t disappear without explanation.
That shows up every morning in sea spray and sunlight and asks nothing from you — except that you notice it.
Ever flown somewhere for a man and ended up dating the destination instead? Tell me I’m not alone in the comments 😅
Or forward this to the one friend who always books the ticket anyway — you know the one.
Ghosted in Santorini but still serving story?
Help a girl process through prose and consider buying me a coffee. Or a catamaran cruise. Either works.
I can honestly say that I've never flown anywhere to meet a man. But my co-writing partner, Alisa over at @gothamgirl, did. LOL Her experience went a bit more sideways than yours, though. Lordty. And OMG, what is with these dudes disappearing! So scammy. I'm sorry you experienced that, but the alternative seems a lot better. And maybe I haven't deep dived your site enough, but have you talked about the kind of work you do that allows you to live there?
Anna, this is beautifully honest and so beautifully YOU. 💙 What a powerful reminder that sometimes, the love and adventure we’re truly meant to find isn’t in a person but in the moment, the place, and the courage to keep choosing ourselves. I love how you turned what could’ve been heartbreak into a celebration of freedom and discovery. Santorini sounds like it held space for your healing and joy in the most unexpected way.
Thank you for sharing this, reminding us all to trust the journey, even when the script flips. You’re inspiring, always. Can’t wait to see where your heart leads next. 🫶🏼