Ah yes, you guessed it! It's time to deconstruct my vacation lovers.
(What? How did one of my old vacation pictures get on here?? Oh my, I'm so embarrassed.)
Let's see...If I don't count trips taken with ex-boyfriends, we're left with Spring Break during my Senior year of college. Mexico, but of course. It was me and three girl friends at a hotel on the Pacific coast, and the only way to describe the week would be to say we were constantly one-upping each other the entire seven days. Well, except for the night when one of my friends was almost thrown into a Mexican jail for giving a beej in a hot tub and had to stand naked with her hands behind her head while the police interrogated them before she took off running across the highway and back to our room. No one could beat that. But, that's her story for her blog.
I'm pretty sure my first hookup was our...first night there. That day, we'd met a couple of cute guys on the beach-- also spring-breakers, naturally-- and ran into a bunch of college friends of one of Twin 1's boyfriend. She and her boyfriend were not on our trip, but off together doing something much more mature than drinking beer by the bucketful and listening to Gasolina being blasted on repeat on the beach all day. Twin 1's sister (Twin 2) however, took an immediate liking to one of the guys in the college friends group. That night out at the club where they herded all of the white, American, 21 year-olds, they hit it off and began to dance. Our other two friends quickly headed back to our hotel room to flirt with danger and other spring-break males as they were, pretty much upon arrival, too drunk to be there after winning a drinking contest on the beach that afternoon. Left alone and worried about how I was going to get back to our hotel, I started drinking heavily and dancing with another one of the college friends. I vividly remember him wearing a pink polo shirt and chewing gum. At 21, I thought this was pretty hot. Style and fresh breath? Sign me up! The next thing I can make out is being back in his hotel room (same resort as us) and having sex while his roommates drunkenly pounded on the door to be let in. I admit, not the most romantic night of my life.
Ah, but he made up for this the next night. Scuba Steve (don't ask...because I actually couldn't even tell you because I can't recall the origin of the nickname other than me just being funny) stuck to me like white on rice. I think I tried to avoid him at the beach the next day as much as possible. I could tell he was kinda liking me and I wasn't looking to be buttoned-down (yes, that was my version of "buttoned-down") at the very beginning of the trip! At the foam party that night (want AIDS? go to a foam party at a club in Mexico...) I spent the majority of the time actively running away from him and hiding in the bathroom. I couldn't make one move without him beside me-- sitting next to me, dancing with me, talking to me. Good God man, I'd already slept with you! What more did you want?! When none of his advances appeared to be working in his favor, he bought me a rose from one of the little wandering vendors. This made me feel physically ill, and I'm not sure what happened next, but I somehow wound up back in his hotel room again. This time however, I was not going to sleep with him. I was actually trying to escape him. The "how" and "why" of me finding myself in his room once more is still totally lost on me, but I do remember dashing around him and bursting out of the room while he CHASED ME (yes, it was like a scene out of Cops) back to my room, yelling after me the whole way. As I darted across traffic (the resort was divided by a highway-- we were in a room on the ocean, he was in a suite across the street), I managed to lose him for a second. Wasting no time, I ran in the sliding glass door to our room and directly into the bathroom, leaving Twin 2 to lie to Scuba's face and say "nope, she hadn't seen me" when just five seconds earlier he'd watched me enter the hotel with his own two eyes. He kind of got the message after this and nothing further happened with him again.
Until a month or so later when Twin 2, another friend, and I went with Twin 1 to visit her boyfriend at his school. Scuba, being a close friend of Twin 1's boyfriend, was obviously out with us that Friday night and he apologized profusely for his crazy behavior in Mexico. He didn't know how to act, he admitted, because I was only the second person to sleep with him. This news both shocked and appalled me, and I felt the need to incredulously announce it to everyone within earshot. He must not have minded however, and somehow led me right back to his room again. I'd never met someone who disinterested me so much that it was like Kryptonite. We were in the throes of passion-- making out, starting to get serious-- when I didn't feel so hot. I excused myself to the bathroom where I promptly recall throwing up something red allllll over his white bathroom for the better part of 30 minutes or so. When I emerged, I insisted he walk me back to Twin 1's boyfriend's place. Funny, he didn't make much of an effort when we went out together the next night.
Ah, but it doesn't end there! A year or so later we were both living in New York and ran into one another out at a bar. I think I was a few drinks (hours?) ahead of him and we must have chatted for a little while before he decided to take off. Not having made a pass at me, I wasn't sure what Scuba was thinking. I decided to find out by running outside after him, swinging the door of his cab open, shouting my phone number at him, and telling him to call me sometime. He never did, and thank God we've never had another encounter. Lesson here? If an opportunity arises for me escape with a modicum of dignity, I need to embrace it.
My second Spring Break hookup was just a really good-looking guy from the Midwest. Tall, dark, and handsome, yadda yadda yadda, my usual type. He was one of the guys we'd met on the beach that first day and he'd watched me flee from Scuba the night before. That third night out, Twin 2 became extremely ill from sun poisoning. I spent the majority of the beginning of the night at that evening's bar shoving girls out of the way in the bathroom line and holding back her hair while she threw up. In the few minutes in-between those activities though, she noticed how Midwestern Man and I were clicking, and finally decided to excuse herself from barfing in a bar to go back to our room and barf there in peace. Yes, I'm a horrible friend and let her walk home alone, a little drunk, a lot sick, late at night, in Mexico. Thankfully, she is a wonderful friend who laughs about this still instead of completely disowning me. Anyway, after sleeping together the next three or four nights, I could feel myself becoming attached Midwestern Man. I could imagine college visits, keeping in touch over AIM (am I dating myself?), and all those indulgent female fantasies we allow ourselves when we like someone. Alas, none of that was meant to be as I never heard from him again back in the US. Lesson learned: Sometimes sex is just sex.
Ah, so much wisdom. One day I'll have a daughter and never tell her any of this.
Therefore to recap:
Lesson 1) Secrets secrets are no fun, secret relationships hurt someone. (Me.)
Lesson 2) When things are over, there's no need to play nice. (It just leads people on.)
Lesson 3) Life is too short to waste on people that aren't significant to you.
Lesson 4) Save every man's number in your phone forever; only have one-night stands at your own place; there is no rule for figuring out penis size ahead of time.
Lesson 5) Just because you have a gun to your head doesn't mean you have to pull the trigger. (It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind half-way through everything.)
Lesson 6) Always use a condom. ('Nuff said.)
Lesson 7) Maintaining some dignity is not overrated.
Lesson 8) Sometimes sex is just sex.
Check.
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