Pho Play: A Steamy Travel RomCom
By Elle Rydhem
You know the whole "girl breaks up, girl takes a solo trip" movie montage?
Yeah. That was me.
I had three simple rules for my post-breakup "dick-tox" vacation:
✓ No crying.
✓ Eat my weight in carbs.
✓ A strict man-bargo.
Because the first rule of getting over your ex is simple: do not fall for a stranger in an airport.
Bulletproof, right?
I lasted about ten minutes.
Then my airport transit bus hit a corner and I fell for him. Literally. Face-first, into his lap.
You know the ...
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You know the whole "girl breaks up, girl takes a solo trip" movie montage?
Yeah. That was me.
I had three simple rules for my post-breakup "dick-tox" vacation:
✓ No crying.
✓ Eat my weight in carbs.
✓ A strict man-bargo.
Because the first rule of getting over your ex is simple: do not fall for a stranger in an airport.
Bulletproof, right?
I lasted about ten minutes.
Then my airport transit bus hit a corner and I fell for him. Literally. Face-first, into his lap.
You know the type. A man so offensively attractive he looks less like a human being and more like the finished product of a focus group dedicated entirely to female fantasies.
We agreed to a pact.
No last names. No numbers. Twelve hours. One layover.
Just the ultimate Before Sunrise rebound fantasy half of us secretly book solo trips hoping for.
I was fully prepared to make polite small talk, admire the view from a safe distance, and get back on my plane with my man-bargo intact.
I was not prepared for how ridiculously hot it is to watch a man casually snap the wrist of a street thug who got handsy with me, and then, with that exact same hand, gently sweep a cherry blossom out of my hair.
Or what it does to me when a man that size dresses up as a samurai, and me as a Japanese princess, and we play a couple so convincingly I completely forget we're pretending.
But here's the trouble with a perfect stranger:
At midnight, he gets on his flight. I get on mine.
And a layover rebound is not supposed to feel like the worst goodbye of your life.
... and I didn't even give him my number. Stupid Dick-Tox. Stupid man-bargo.
Some Cinderella I turned out to be.
So. Will my Prince Charming come find me?
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