Isreali Men, hallelujah Isreali Men...not!

My Irish pals have departed for Koh Tao, but I decide that I'm having so much fun in Koh Phangan that I'll hang around for a few more days and join them later, keeping in touch via Facebook or Whatsapp in the meantime. This however means I'm a Billy-No-Mates once more, making puppy-dog eyes at strangers until eventually someone takes pity on me and makes the fatal mistake of smiling or allowing eye contact. Then that's it, I'm away again, chewing off the ear of aforementioned victim until they regret ever opening their mouths in the first instance. However, after a few buckets of Sangsom and coke, my not-so-secret weapon in the mate-finding process, the ice is well and truly melted and suddenly we are the firmest of friends...
There is one particular occasion when this method is not applicable...when approached by a pack of predatory Israelis. When they strike, I clam up quicker than a tired shopkeeper shutting up shop for the day, ramming my stuff into my bag and making a hasty retreat. Don't get me wrong, those guys love are party and are great fun in general, but as a lone female you won't stand a chance as they are more handy than your average octopus...eep!
So when Isreali Tom makes a play for me by the pool it's all I can do not to drown myself in the deep end as a means of escape. Steve happens to be passing with his visiting mates at that exact moment, and shoots me enquiring and disapproving glances as Tom attempts his corniest lines. Give me strength!
That evening I wander the streets of Koh Phangan alone, absorbing the heady mix of pumping house and techno music, buckets with multiple straws being sucked by several partygoers, heads down as they rev up into fifth gear for another full-on night of fun. There are 7-11 supermarkets, massage shops, beauty parlours, clothes shops, street-food stalls and a million tattooists all vying for business, not to mention taxi drivers and taxi-boat touts, bar staff and tour reps....sensory overload as I attempt to take it all in...
I watch a fire show, as Tom the Isreali once again approaches stealth-like, circling me like a Great White, flashy his gleaming veneers as he goes in for the kill. We head to Cactus Bar, my second home on the island, where I am rescued by a group of Northern lads, who haul me up onto the table and we dance energetically, Tom talking animatedly...to my ankles...
Another night, another trip up to Mushroom Mountain, another series of buckets, another 5am dip in the ocean, only this time one of the guys in the group gets paranoid and starts bleating about someone stealing his valuables from the beach whilst we're swimming. A quick scout around in the darkness and I manage to retrieve every 'missing' item from the sand, which amazes even me as I'm not known for my 20/20 vision, especially at the current level of intoxication. I am suddenly the hero of the hour, the mood lifts once more and we party on into the night....