Here's the Truth

I have a confession to make, when I said before I was going solo for a week? Well, that was only a little bit true. If you've been following LP's blog at all, (and honestly if you haven't, she's a way better writer than I and you might enjoy yourself more. Read her side of the story here: www.reconnoiterlife.blogspot.com) you'll know that she spilled the beans about her solo adventure. Hers involved a lovely Professor of Architectural Drafting from one of the universities in Dunedin. She was brave about it, I thought it would be fair if I was too.

It's true, that I hopped on the Interislander Ferry by myself, it's true that I stayed in Wellington by myself and then took a bus to Rotorua. I took a day and I found Hobbits, but that's for another post.

I don't know what it was about me being on my own, but all of a sudden I turned into someone who couldn't hold a conversation with a new person without becoming a mumbling, bumbling idiot. Didn't happen for me and the nice old lady on the ferry, definitely didn't happen for me at the hostel in Wellington when I was cooking in the communal kitchen surrounded by people interested in having a conversation.  My first 24 hours of solo adventure I kept to myself. No serious awkward moments, but maybe just a few weird moments because... well, me. It seemed like LP took all all the 'cool' with her to reunite with the Professor in the South Island. Just kidding...I'm not cool.

But really, Rotorua is where things got a little less, uh, solo-y.
Well, there was this guy. I mentioned him once before awhile back. It's that guy. He's the guy. And we met up in the not quite so bustling city of Rotorua.

Let me get strait to the point, this was a far cry from LPs romantic getaway (please, please read her point of view here www.reconnoiterlife.blogspot.com ): with the Professor.

But, after a several months of self doubt in the dude department...this guy, that guy I mentioned before and mentioned again, made me feel like a girl. He held my hand walking down the street and more than once, he put my hair behind my ear. No pressure, no strings and we drank the best damn margaritas of my life. I don't know if I'll ever see him again, and if he happens to ever stumble across this post, I have no idea if he'll be flattered or creeped out. Because, let's be honest, it could go either way.

Thank you for the memories, Washington.

So my solo adventure was less than solo. We said our goodbyes and I found myself on a tour bus heading strait toward Middle Earth.