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The cruise continues.

She had grandiose ideas of surviving alone in some far off African jungle: a kind of female Dr Livingston. Her father was also at the same college training to be a Minister and was in the same year of college as her new crush. She saw him on the grounds of the campus one day and immediately fell head over heels in love with him.

Always thinking on her feet, she walked up to him and said, "Do you know where my father is?"

He answered, as she knew he would, "Who is your father?"

She told him.

Instant recognition appeared on his face. Bingo. She had him.

He, never having met her before, had no knowledge of who she was so the question was merely an introductory tool she used so he would know her next time they met.

Of course, she was not considering the 20 kilograms she had piled on since her high school days.

She waited for him to notice her. He on the other hand remained friendly but emotionally detached. She made excuses to be around him, often taking up kitchen duties on the same nights as he so she could spend time with him.

One afternoon she snuck into his bedroom, pillow in hand and, unbeknown to him, exchanged her pillow with his so she could sleep on something belonging to him.

She wanted his acceptance and to belong to him so badly: but as a result the reality was that she drove him stark raving mad in her desire to attain it.

He was in no doubt of her affection for him, yet he neither encouraged nor discouraged her ambition until he was sick to death of her and drew away.

To cut a two-year story short, he did not want her and her need to be desirable and acceptable destroyed their relationship. He ended up rejecting her and she watched helplessly as he began to date her roommate instead.

She put on even more weight during this period.

Still a virgin at twenty-seven, she fell in love again: with the father of her now nearly twenty-year-old daughter.

He was an Irish tourist and definitely, the most handsome man she had laid eyes on in years. They became friends. He would sit by her and they would go for long walks and talk about anything and everything: but there had been no romantic gestures on his part.

Wanting to feel loved and accepted, she shocked the hell out of him one day by impulsively putting her head on his chest while they were lying back on a bed [with other people in the room] watching a video.

He tensed, but never moved away from her. He certainly never told her to get the hell off him. That alone was all it took to make her feel secure.

Around two weeks went by.

It was the week before Christmas. He had been to an after work Christmas party and had finally come home [they both had rooms in a boarding house filled with young people, mainly backpackers.]

She had had a fair amount to drink that evening, as they always seemed to have an open cast of wine on the table.

During this time some information which was to change her rational was accidentally let out of the bag when a member of their group piped up and announced suddenly that the 'love of her life' was leaving in the next day [ for good]. It was his considered opinion that, if she knew, she would fall in a heap and he was right.

Emotionally crushed, she ran to the park down the road and sobbed uncontrollably: cried, in fact, until she was physically sick. She could not lose him, not now that she had finally found him. She had to find some way to keep him with her.

She devised a plan: She would offer him her body. Every romance she had ever read said that the virgin always got the hero to fall in love with her by the end of the novel.

Therefore, that is what she did.

She set out to seduce him and succeeded, although the alcohol no doubt helped enormously.

The sex, although lasting only around three and a half minutes was pleasant enough despite his level of intoxication.

Suddenly he rose from the bed, put on his shorts, grabbed his other belongings, and then left leaving her bewildered and wondering why he would not stay.

The next morning it all fell apart.

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