Okay, so picture this: I’m 35, a single mom to the most adorable 7-year-old tornado of energy, and I’ve just touched down in Thailand for a much-needed “me” vacation. I told myself this trip was about finding inner peace, eating my body weight in mango sticky rice, and maybe doing yoga on a beach at sunrise. Spoiler alert: two out of three isn’t bad. Yoga? Not so much. Dating? Oh, honey. Pull up a chair.
After years of wiping crayon masterpieces off my walls and playing referee in playground squabbles, I decided it was time to reclaim my singlehood. And where better to start than Thailand? It’s the land of endless beaches, spicy food, and men who seem genetically engineered to charm your socks off (and other things, but let’s stay classy—for now).
Meet the Lineup 🎭
The first guy I met was Aran, a dive instructor with abs so defined they could cut through a coconut. We met when I accidentally wandered into his dive shop, mistaking it for a café. Classic me. I was wearing a floppy sun hat and holding a map like I’d stepped out of a rom-com. He laughed, handed me a bottle of water, and asked if I wanted to see the coral reefs. I said yes, mostly because his smile could melt glaciers, and I’m not above admitting that.
Aran turned out to be as sweet as he was easy on the eyes. He took me snorkeling, pointing out fish whose names I promptly forgot because, honestly, I was too busy watching him. By the end of the day, we were sipping Chang beers on the beach, and he was telling me stories about growing up on a tiny island. Romantic, right? It was… until the next day.
Enter Lukas, a German backpacker I met at a night market while I was bargaining (badly) for a sarong. Lukas had this rugged, backpacker vibe—tattoos, a man bun, and a tan that screamed “I’ve been living off the grid.” He caught my eye when he swooped in to help me haggle, then stuck around to share a plate of fried squid. We spent the evening hopping between street food stalls and laughing about how I could barely handle the chili. He called me “spicy,” and I may have blushed harder than the curry.
Lukas and I spent two whirlwind days exploring temples and navigating crowded tuk-tuk rides. He was spontaneous, adventurous, and had this way of making everything feel like an indie movie montage. But just when I thought I’d hit the jackpot, the universe sent me a plot twist.
The Italian Stallion 🍝
At a beachfront bar, I met Matteo. He was tall, tan, and could order drinks in Thai with an accent that made heads turn. He was also Italian, so of course, he introduced himself with a kiss on both cheeks and called me “bella.” (Do men like this just roam around the world, or was this Thailand’s way of spoiling me?)
Matteo wasn’t about scuba diving or temple hopping. He was about long dinners, late-night conversations, and making you feel like the only person in the room. We talked about everything—our lives back home, our dreams, and the weird things we missed (him: fresh mozzarella; me: Target runs without tantrums). By the time we kissed under a sky full of stars, I was genuinely swooning.
But here’s the thing about vacation romances: they’re like sandcastles—beautiful but temporary. I knew none of this would follow me back to the PTA meetings and soccer practices waiting at home. And honestly? That made it even better.
Owning My Singlehood 🏖️
Here’s what I realized: dating multiple men in Thailand wasn’t about “finding the one” or even creating something long-lasting. It was about embracing the parts of myself I’d tucked away—the adventurous me, the carefree me, the “let’s order another mojito and see where the night goes” me. These guys weren’t just romantic distractions; they were reminders that I’m more than just a mom or a woman who folds laundry at 11 PM while binge-watching Netflix.
So, no, I didn’t come back with a ring on my finger or a picture-perfect love story. But I did come back with a sunburn, a sarong I didn’t haggle enough for, and a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in years. And you know what? That’s worth more than any rom-com ending.
Thailand taught me that it’s okay to live a little—okay, a lot. Whether it’s diving into a coral reef, devouring spicy squid with a stranger, or kissing under the stars, this trip was a love letter to myself. And I plan on writing many, many more.
So, here’s to singlehood, spontaneity, and the occasional Italian Stallion. 🥂
