Four weeks ago, I got married, and the most common question I’ve been greeted with since is: “How was the honeymoon?” It was bloody lovely, let me tell you. My wife bought us a Top 10 Things To See In Crete book and, two weeks before the trip, I admitted my mistake and told her it was the other Greek island beginning with “C”. Corfu was beautiful. We were wary about holding hands in our private taxi, but once we arrived in our resort we were greeted with champagne and a handshake. Outside the hotel, the glistening ocean was still and expanded way beyond the horizon. In our sea view room, the towels had been folded into swans and there were rose petals scattered on the bed. The mini fridge had a bottle of prosecco and there was fresh fruit.
I had emailed ahead to tell them we were on our honeymoon and asked them to make as much fuss as possible. The bay our hotel was sat on was long and we wandered along it for hours, seeing very few people. I know that lesbians sometimes get the “man hating” label thrust upon them and, believe me, I don’t hate men. However, when we wandered past a sign that said “Nude Beach”, I was very disappointed to see a lone man, swinging his way across the sandy beach.