As the grey skies of the UK disappeared beneath the clouds, I sat on the plane considering what the next few weeks’ holiday in Thailand held in store.
Clean-shaven in my smart travel clothes, clutching the latest Dan Brown novel, you might have assumed, as a solo passenger, that I was travelling for work.
But this was no business trip, and it wasn’t the prospect of sunshine, sand and cheap cocktails that filled me with anticipation; it was the promise of no-strings sex on tap. All I would have to do was take out my wallet.
At 32, I’m a single professional working in the
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