Why I gave Luxembourg’s most-romantic hotel a 1-star review

Just when I thought there couldn’t be any more Luxembourg, the motorway went on and on and on and on, like that film “Interstellar” or my boss at my last annual review.

It was a crappy day in Luxembourg: the coffee tasted like dog shit, Sophie cooked fish in the office microwave, and Ian, my boss, complained incessantly that “young people today just don’t want to work!” while looking straight at me. 

But today nothing was gonna get me down. Because Venus was ascendant in my star sign. And because the night before, my boo messaged to say he had planned a special VDay surprise. 

We’d been dating for 13 months. 12, if you don’t count the month when he was cheating on his ex. I knew he was a keeper because he regularly washed his bed linen. Honestly, I’ve met men whose sheets you could crack in two! 

About three months after we met in Barrels, I began sending my guy subtle messages that I was ready to settle down. I programmed Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” as my morning alarm. Two mornings a week, he had been waking up to the lyrics: “If you like it, then you should've put a ring on it.”  I also began posting subtle photos on Instagram of me wearing engagement rings. 

It seemed he had gotten the “marry me” memo. Finally, I’d be able to marry in a castle, quit my shitty job and become a lifestyle influencer.

In his message, my boo told me to bring a bikini, toothbrush and my sexy self! I was so overcome with the need to gloat that I opened Facebook and messaged the Ladies of Luxembourg group. I typed: “I can’t believe this. My boo’s gonna propose!” 

It was dark and raining when he pulled up outside of my office in Kirchberg in his Porsche, and we sped off into bumper to bumper traffic. 

“Please, give me a little clue where we’re going!” I said, placing my hand on his thigh.

“Did you say something?” He replied. “I was listening to a podcast.”

“Where are we going, babe?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replied. 

It was not soon enough for me. If anything, the journey was endless. Just when I thought there couldn’t be any more Luxembourg, the motorway went on and on and on and on, like that film “Interstellar” or my boss at my last annual review.

When we eventually joined a dark, empty road, I had a terrifying thought. “Shit! Your boo doesn’t want to propose to you. He’s planning to murder you and bury your beautiful body in the woods!”

I retrieved my phone and typed a quick message to Ladies of Luxembourg. “I’m being kidnapped by my boyfriend and he’s taken me out of the city. Send help!”

About a dozen other messages appeared on the feed after mine: one for a restaurant. Another for a doggy day care. Damn you Promo Monday!!!

It was dark when he killed the engine. I got ready to run: finally, all that stepper training at Basic Fit was going to pay off. But then I saw them: the phallic towers of Luxembourg’s most romantic hotel, the Château de Durchfall!

My fears dissolved into glee as I watched my boo get out of the car and go down on one knee…to tie his shoelace.

I got out and gazed around me as if I were in a film. I mean, he should have been filming this, with a drone, for posterity. I am an absolute catch, after all!

We followed a trail of rose petals on the ivory marble floor from reception to our room where two flutes of champagne were waiting. There was no ring in either glass. But of course, he was waiting for the spa!

I pulled a soft towelling robe over my bikini and we followed the subtle fragrance of chlorine to the basement. 

“After you!” he said, opening the glass door. 

“Yes!” I replied, I admit, a little prematurely. 

The room looked as though it had been carved from a cave with stalactites hanging from the ceiling. As we stepped into the warm water, I heard voices from behind one of the stalactites and turned to look. To my great horror, I locked eyes with my boss, Ian, and Sophie. I felt sick as I took in Ian’s back hair and man boobs bobbing in the blue water.

I fled the spa in such a state, I forgot about the rose petals in the lobby. When I came to in the hospital, alone, ringless and with a lump where my head hit the floor, I realised it was all the fault of your establishment. And that is why I am leaving the Château de Durchfall this 1-star review.