*warning - bitchy rant
Even if they’ve never mentioned the Côte d'Azur in the past where you used to live as a place people have always wanted to visit, overall, people will find a way to seek you out. They might have no real knowledge of the area or any interest in your life until they perhaps realize you're a possible free lodging option. Suddenly, you’ll hear from people you haven’t spoken to in years, and even then in your former life, were mostly likely acquaintances and never hung out together.
One of my first experiences of this, and one that tops my list, happened over a decade ago when I was excited about my big move to the Riviera. I made the mistake of telling a few people where I was going to be living with my now ex-partner. Word spread fast about our villa, pool, and garden.
Within our first year, we received an overwhelming number of requests. My ex-partner even set up an Excel sheet to track them out of curiosity. We counted about 132 requests for stays from both Europe and North America, all with different dates, lengths, and reasons. Shockingly, 67% of these people were strangers to us—usually friends of friends or distant family members.
This quickly led us to make a decision that it had to be a "no" across the board, which pissed off plenty of people. We love our work, the lifestyle that comes with it, and are admitted workaholics, and we consider our home to be our sanctuary. It was overwhelming to manage so many requests, most of which overlapped, and the demands that followed, so our final word on it all was made.
The promises potential visitors make range from “just a few days” to months, insisting they’ll be no trouble at all. They’ll claim to be self-sufficient, on their best behavior, and not interfere with your work or life. But you know better. Especially when they hint at bringing other friends or family.
From my experience, if you agree to a stay, and even if you set clear house rules, they are usually forgotten within the first hour of their arrival.
The moment they step off the plane, they go into vacation mode. You can practically see it on their faces—this dream-like state where they believe nothing can go wrong because they’re on holiday, and the world is theirs.
When they arrive at your home—especially if it's in a prime location with stunning sea views—they start acting as if they’ve won the big game. They don’t consider the hard work or long hours you put in (I haven't had a day off since the COVID lockdown) or the sacrifices you’ve made.
Instead, they assume your time now belongs to them and expect you to be their personal tour guide, taking them to beaches, restaurants, bars, shops, and nightclubs. They often hope you'll foot the bill or try to emulate your lifestyle while prying into personal details to see how they can achieve what you have with talks about the possibility of moving here, followed by even more questions seeking tons of free advice on the subject.
At times it would be like watching a lottery winner blow through their winnings, only to end up bankrupt within a year.
You learn a lot about people’s true characters during these visits, even if you’ve known them for decades. And you try to remind yourself they're just happy to be on vacation.
Once they settle in, they often want to celebrate their arrival, expecting you to drop everything. And heaven forbid you have a wine rack—that's like an open invitation for a party.
They seem thrilled, but mostly because they feel lucky to have landed a free place to stay, it’s never about seeing you. And they immediately start snapping photos of your property or views to post on social media to show the world where they are at the moment.
Another example was a friend I’d known for almost 15 years. We met back in my home country, and he was always outgoing, funny, and successful. He moved back to Europe a few years after me and landed a great job in another country. During one of our chats, he casually asked if he could stay with me for a short number of days, dropping hints inquiring about the size of my property and whether I had all the amenities he wanted for his four-day stay.
When he arrived, it was
lovely to see him—at first. But as he settled in, his personality began
to shift. He started drinking early upon arrival and then decided to
shave his chest in one of my bathrooms, leaving a mess of pubes all over
the floor and it went from there.
He expected me to split the bill for
groceries, even though he had picked out 80% of the high-end items
compared to my 20%, but you let it go. Most of the food ended up going
to waste since he dismissed my work commitments and wanted to eat out
for each meal of the day at restaurants only with "hot, straight
waiters," that he thought he could attract and convince to be gay, and
the bill would always be high due to his level of drinking.
He kept insisting I take time off work, ignoring the fact that it was my busiest season. When I suggested he explore on his own, he seemed unwilling until practically pushed yet claimed to be worldly and well traveled.
After several days of his boorish behavior, which included drunken outbursts, grandiose and clearly fabricated stories, and attempts to socially climb by demanding introductions to my contacts in Monaco and the French Riviera (which wasn’t going to happen), I realized his true intentions.
It all came to a head one
evening on the terrace of a gay bar in Nice, where he got incredibly
drunk and loudly shouted a racist slur at new friends we had met, one
who was Asian, loudly stating, “I hate fucking Asians!” He then stormed
off down the street, leaving everyone in shock.
Upon his return, the new friends left (but kept in touch with me). He wanted to try and find a sex club, so I came home.
In
the early morning hours when he returned, I could hear him fake crying
while he walked up the street. I begrudgingly let him in, told him to go
to bed while he still fake cried. I went to my bedroom where I could
then hear him take a shower (still fake crying), he came downstairs to
the dining room area, where I heard a ream of barf hitting the floor. I
got up and outside the bedroom could see he was nude, and still fake
crying. I told him to get to bed, as I went to my bedroom, he went to
the kitchen area where he barfed on the floor again. Then he decided to
go to bed.
I got up, cleaned up the barf (worried
it would ruin the finish of the hardwood floor and knowing he wasn’t
capable of doing it). He ended up sleeping until the afternoon. When he
got up, I asked him what he remembered, which was nothing. Then he
crashed on the living room sofa again. I woke him up after a short
while, asked him again about the evening, to no recollection. I told him
what he did, he ended up feeling more bad for himself than his actions.
This was the breaking point. I let him stay one more night, but I laid down strict rules: no more drinking, no going out, it was over.
Another recent experience involved a friend I’d known since we were 16 years old. She reached out to me a few months ago after otherwise very little contact, as her daughter was accepted to a local university, and she needed help with logistics. I offered to let her stay with me for a few days while she got her daughter settled. Then she asked if a friend could stay too—a friend from 25 years ago. I had the space, so I agreed.
What followed was a series of events that
increasingly became bizarre involving her friend, where they both went
on non-stop drinking binges at all hours of the day and night while
passing out in between.
The friend’s friend at one
point got up one morning while I was working online in my bedroom, only
for me to discover when I heard the shuffling around that she had gone
outside of my property onto the street, completely nude to take photos
of the area.
When I saw her turn to come back
inside, I quickly went back to my bedroom and she continued to roam
through my home nude. Finally, to try and put a stop to it, I caught her
eye and pretended to be surprised, offering her a towel to cover up.
She denied it, instead putting a throw pillow over her breasts and
vagina, while talking to me about her body, claiming my friend she
shared a bed with was also nude and they went into some action during
the night. None of which I cared about, I just didn’t want her to be
walking around nude in my home.
The next few hours
got stranger as she finally put some panties on and a blouse she left
unbuttoned. She tried to feel me up a few times while I yelled “No!”,
each time, insisting I also get nude (wasn’t happening), later wanting
to know if I would join her in the shower and if knew where to get
cocaine.
Looking back, I should’ve kicked her out.
The friend that was to initially stay for 4 days stayed for a week, her
crazy friend was to stay for 3 days but stayed for 5 days and the visit
got increasingly stressful and weird filled with outrageous antics the
whole time with them being drunk basically the whole stay.
Experiences like these teach you a lot about people and about setting boundaries. While I understand the appeal of visiting a beautiful place like the French Riviera, it’s clear that many people see it as a chance to live out a fantasy at someone else’s expense, without considering the lengthy costs in every regard to their host.
For those that love and
enjoy having people come and visit, kudos. For myself, I just don’t
think it is a part of who I am and my lifestyle so anytime someone now
wants a holiday stay, my answer will be that I’m not available.
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