one kiss later...the story starts here

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One of my few memories of Primary school is my parents coming home from a parent-teacher interview, to which they were told that "Tash has great potential, if only she would stop focusing so much on boys..."  This is definitely a story that I can laugh at now, but little did I know at the time how true this sentence would ring through the stories of my life.


Fast forward a few years, out of University, working I fall in love with someone I shouldn't. One kiss. He says nothing can happen (for certain reasons I won't go into). I up and move to Australia by myself knowing no one. Months in, a new crush. One kiss. A year and a half later I find myself engaged and moving to London with my new fiancee.

Travel. Amazing. London life. Amazing. Relationship? Amazing... but just not right for no apparent reason. Trying to work it out, but still no rhyme or reason to why I am feeling this way. Months of an internal battle. A drunken night. One kiss. A confession. Then a double confession that he had done the same. The realization that this relationship just wasn't working...


Single in London town. Drunken nights. Ridiculousness. A frenchman who wanted to run away with me. An Englishman paranoid that I actually wanted to marry him for a passport (I did joke about it as I didn't want to leave London, but he took it extremely seriously..) An old Uni acquaintance that I bumped into on the train. And everything in between. (Yes my dating life is tragic but we will go more into this along the way...)

A visa soon to expire. A quick decision to apply to work for a travel company touring around Europe (to avoid ending my wanderlust days so soon). Success. Two weeks notice at work. Two weeks of partying with friends. A leaving party where the anxiety and panic of the fact that: I love my life in London, why on earth did I decide to do this, I should have just tried to extend my visa somehow, get sponsored, why, why, why am I leaving?? And to make matters even better I had just started dating a great aussie lad.


side note: more details are needed here. So being that I knew I was leaving, I figured that I could just have a bit of fun with this guy. He was gorgeous (no lies he looked exactly like Ryan Gosling and people actually came up to us when we were out), so I figured he was bound to be a prick right? So a F-buddy wouldn't be the worst thing for a few weeks before I leave... But then life played an even crueler joke on me, he wasn't a prick... *of all the times to send me a gorgeous, nice guy Universe, this was not it!!



So where was I? Oh yea good bye to Gosling. Tears. Bags packed. Tears. Good bye to friends. And you guessed it, more tears.

Day 1. of a seven week training program 


Note: I need to make another side note here, that I am basically a useless human when it comes to life-admin. I have always tended to have a policy of say yes first and work out the finer details later - you know the old: dive in first, sink or swim scenario. The prime example of this here is that it is a 7 week training program, however, I somehow had got it into my head that it was a 1 week training program. Slight difference. Already you can begin to see how I get myself into such ridiculous scenarios.

Oh but wait, it gets better. It is a 7 week training program on the road with 50 other excited individuals, trainers (aka drill sergeants ) AND there are, THE RULES...

Just so we are clear, I will give an outline of THE RULES - now these are in no particular order, and I cant remember them exactly, but it goes something like this:
  1. No sexual relationships (fine by me, as I most definitely needed a break from boy dramas in my life, plus who would possibly be able to have sex with drill sergeants around watching your every move?!)
  2. No booze (personally quite excited by this as there is never a chance in my real life to take 2 months of drinking)
  3. No music (now this would be challenging as music is a part of my life
  4. No electrical equipment: phones, cameras, etc (no camera?? this was about to be my first time to all of these destinations, WTF?)
  5. No sleeping on the coach (near impossible, any of my friends who have ever been in a moving vehicle with me can testify to the fact that I fall asleep any and everywhere!)
  6. No using the coach toilet (again near impossible, as I have the world's worst bladder and what do you do to aid rule #5, you drink copious amounts of caffeine of course)
  7. No trackpants, thongs or low cut tops (this rule clearly goes out the window when you successfully get the job, as modelled by many staff at the sites around Europe)
  8. No cockiness or arrogance (yes this was an actual rule, though musn't have applied to the trainers.)
So basically no fun, is the overall consensus of the trip. I have just unwittingly signed up for a psych experiment - lets see what happens when we put 50 strangers together, lay out 'The Rules' rules, don't let them sleep and continually put them under pressure for 2 months and see what happens... it was never going to end pretty!

Okay so I say this, yes it was a very difficult month, attested to by the fact that some people actually packed their bags and left in the middle of the night! BUT, excluding THE RULES and a handful of arrogant (I refer you to rule #8) trainers, it was a pretty incredible month  in and of itself: 6 countries, 11 cities in 20 something days (I will explain why only 20 days soon) with the most amazing group of wonderful humans (other trainees, not trainers).



I am so glad I did it, and wouldn't change a thing, ok, maybe I would change one thing... Following my previous patters of behaviour (and the name of the title probably gave it away) which rule do you think is the one that got me packing and somersaulted my life in yet another direction in the space of a month?

You catch on fast! Yes, a kiss. I got kicked off this training trip for kissing a boy!! We foolishly thought we could sneak a cheeky pash in at the end of a night when no one was around (turns out drill sergeants like to hide in bushes *not creepy at all...). So that's right, laugh all you like, I will even say it again just for shits and giggles: in my mid-twenties, I just got essentially fired for kissing a boy. And no, I am not hiding anything here, no sex, no second base, or any other bases for that matter. *My Primary School teacher was more of a prophet than she knew.

Side Note: I feel that if I was going to get kicked off this training trip, I would have liked it to be far more rock 'n' roll in style, you know, break all the rules in one go: caught having drunken sex on the coach, whilst blazing music, wearing trackpants and a low-cut top, filming it on my camera, using the coach toilet (arrogantly I might add) afterwards then falling asleep...


So once again, thanks to one kiss, my life was once again sent spiralling out of control in another direction. With little more than a couple of hundred dollars in my account (not quite enough to book a ticket home to NZ), it was time to take a gamble... Move to Italy and hope for the best...







Ok... so maybe I cheated on rule #4 too...


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