How does a two-week holiday in the Dominican Republic sound? Pretty sweet?
Just wait till you hear the details, you hopeless romantic, you.
First, your romantic holiday is with THIS GUY right here, in the “Follow Me Home” sweater.
He’s an Englishman called John Whitbread. He’s just had his tender British heart ripped from his chest by some girl called Amy, who cancelled their Valentines Day wedding just before Christmas because she has a lifelong vendetta against happiness.
So, Johnny Whitbread has done what any modern, heavily eye-browed gentleman would do: Got his mate to make him a eBay account and tried to auction off his ex-fiancee’s ticket to their fortnight-long shag fest in the Dominican Republic.
There’s a hashtag, so it’s completely legit.
If you’ve always dreamed of being wooed via hashtag to partake in another woman’s celebration of matrimony, go on – get in touch.
But you should probably know you, ah, have to pay for it.
The, um, staggering romance of this whole thing is a little bit tarnished by the fact that whoever goes on this trip has to pay their way and go on a pre-planned holiday with no say whatsoever on destination, location, or accommodation.
We know what you’re thinking. How can I possibly go on another person’s miserable honeymoon when John Whitbread has not informed his Whitbread family of his plans? Don’t you worry your pretty head. Here’s Johnny, telling his folks about his Grand Romantic Internet Gesture.
The heart wants what the heart wants, internet. And in this case, Whitbread’s heart wants a complete stranger to bid against other complete strangers using their computers for the weird chance to console him in a foreign location while he weeps over being jilted.
Aint nobody in the world who can say that romance is dead.