My stomach was churning. The three beers I downed for courage were at war in my bladder, sloshing around with the valour and stubbornness of two battling nations. I could taste the tang of bile in my mouth, a lone country ready to cause a rebellion in my body. I took a deep breath as we approached The Outback Inn, another as we greeted the organiser, a third as I slipped to the bathroom for a fourth, and a final as we were shuffled into the green room. This was it. The biggest moment of my life. I was about to meet a living, breathing, actual Love Islander: Callum Hole.  

Let me rewind. I’m a massive Love Island fan. I’ve been hooked since the birth of ITV’s most successful show. From the days of cigarettes and thongs by the pool to the bizarre heart rate challenge, I’ve seen the media blossom into a full-on franchise. Tuning in for season upon season of drama, dating, and dirtiness is a must for me. So, when I found out ex-islander Callum Hole was coming to The Outback Inn, I begged my boss to meet him. But there was a problem. A speck of worry dust on the bookcase of my mind. What if he was an asshole? What if his onscreen persona was just that, a persona? What if the meeting was abhorrent and doomed Love Island for me forever? They say you should never meet your idols, and I was about to test that notion.  

I stood in the green room armed with a purposefully low acumen of Callum. As I took in the chiller crammed with a rainbow of drinks, the lonesome leather couch, and the dull carpet dotted with stains, I painted a poor picture of the ex-islander in my mind. He would be arrogant, rude, brassy, and I wouldn’t be let down. Suddenly, I’m pulled into a hug, and a Welsh accent is ringing in my ear. I smell the cologne of a thousand fuckboys, see a blinding row of teeth, and feel immediately at ease. Everything went so smoothly. By the end of the meeting, I was not only assured that Love Island wouldn’t be ruined for me, I had gained a novel appreciation for the show’s cast.  

And how was Callum Hole? After some small talk with a smattering of laughter, the walls I had built to protect my precious media came crumbling down. I was shocked by his enthusiasm and care for our work at Nexus. He answered all my questions intently, even grabbing the microphone himself to express long, exuberant replies. He came across as totally animated, genuine, and kind. When we wrapped up the interview, he agreed to take pictures with us and made some posing suggestions. It truthfully felt like seeing an old friend. Originally, our meeting with the ex-islander was supposed to be ten minutes, but he sweetly chatted with us about reality television, the magazine, and life for much longer. It’s safe to say we left the green room buzzing.  

I expected arrogance, a shattered illusion, the death of my Love Island obsession. Instead, I met a man who was funny, kind, and disarmingly real. Callum Hole wasn’t just nice—he was better than I imagined. He cared, he listened, he laughed, and ten minutes became a core memory for me. Against all advice, I met my idol and left with my fandom stronger than ever. Sometimes, the reality of reality television is epic.