Dating Story #66, Total deBEACHery

 Summer is officially over.

{boo.}

Which means, I am officially BACK! 

{yay!}

However, prepare to receive some end of summer sagas because I’ve been savin’ em up for ya!

Let’s back that ass up to where we left off, shall we? 

After my crazy whirlwind trip to LA I came directly back to NYC and headed straight off to the beach for a week of Kismet Krazy-ness. 

I did a week (actually about 12 days!) out there last summer and it was pure bliss. Relaxing, fun and even a little bit boylicious since Teca met me out there for a few days of it.

This summer?

Entirely different.

When BFWB saw that I was taking that week out there he asked if he could join me.  I figured why the hellz would I want to be all sad n’ lonely out there for a week by my lonesome, since there seemed to be no real man-spects worthy of joining me this summer, so I agreed. 

The first night I was out there we were both exhausted and just relaxed and worked on some music. It was lovely.

And….that was it for relaxing!

The next night, BFWB's awesome roomie, TJ, who owns my favorite/deadliest bar, Mother’s Ruin (aka Lindsey’s Ruin) and his amazeballz gf, Cary, came out to join us for a few days and that’s when the beach house went from “RELAXING” to “We may need REHAB.”

First off, Cary was toting her beach read “The Secret” with her, you know that bullshit book about “everything in the universe can be yours if you just wish for it” or some shit.  That provided hours of entertainment/ridicule from BFWB. And, then there’s just the simple fact of sharing a beach house with 2 bartenders and a crazy Irishman for 4 days.  I’m pretty sure I can still hear my liver screaming from that.

We had an INSANE night out that Tuesday night.  And in Kismet, that’s not always easy to do considering there’s like ONE bar.  But oh yes, if there’s a way, BFWB and friends will be victorious.  Not to mention all the while, we were pulling all 6’5, 200lbs of BWFB around in a wagon 

because he sprained his ankle while playing tennis with me earlier in the day. 

That night ended with me having to drag his amazingly heavy ass back to the house from the beach where we thought it would be a good idea to go around 1am.  For the record, I passed out cold on the sand, woke up, dragged him back and passed out with all my clothes on like the classy bitch I am.

Now, you’re probably wondering why any of this would be a problem, right?

Well, as it turns out, SoCal had made plans to come out and hang with me that Wednesday for the day and I had been looking forward to it.    He was taking the early ferry out in the am and the last one back at night. 

When I went to meet him at the ferry at 10am, I was terrified that I may actually vomit on his shoes. Even better? He got off the boat and said “Good morning! I’m ready for a bloody mary!” [puke]

But, I managed to hold it together.  Well, if you count having the shakes and being 10 shades paler than normal as “holding it together.”  Seriously, I took my shades off, he saw my eyes and went “WHOA.” Yeah. Awesome.

Wanting to show off my quasi-cooking skills to SoCal (why, I’m not sure?) I proceeded to cook everyone a totally pimped out breakfast including pesto made fresh from our basil plants growing outside, poached eggs, herbed goat cheese on English muffins…Yeah. BALLER!

And, I couldn’t eat ONE SINGLE F’ING BITE OF IT.

In fact, at one point I smiled, said “I’ll be right back!” and ran to the bathroom to pray to the porcelain god.

UGGGH.

Luckily, I managed to combine the right amount of anti-hangover remedies to make a full recovery by 12p.  As in drinking a beer on the beach with all the normal people. Phew!  And, we had a blast.  It was the first time SoCal and I have ever really been around other people, in terms of each other’s friends and I had no idea how it would go, but he was GREAT. Got along so well, everyone really liked him…it’s really so strange why our relationship has never gone anywhere past this place it is now, but whatever.  I’m completely fine with it and he was an awesome bonus to a gorgeous beach day.  Not to mention a fun dual “water saving” outdoor shower to cap it all off. Weee!

He split later that night and I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen him since...Hah! No tears over here though. Like I’ve said many times before, he serves his purpose. Fine by me!

The next few days proved even more debaucherous than the ones prior, if that’s even humanly possible.  One night, most of us managed to get back a little before 3am, which is kind of crazy for Kismet. Of course, BFWB lapped all of us and rolled in around 5a. At about 6:30a I got up to pee, because apparently I’m a freaking elderly lady and can’t ever make it through the night without doing so, especially when I drink. Blah!  As I’m in the bathroom, I heard the front door slam as if someone was leaving. Um…where the F was someone going at that hour??  So I stumbled, bleary-eyed, into the living room to check it out. I looked through the half-window opening that leads to the front door and what did I see?

BFWB.

PEEING.

IN.

THE.

HALLWAY! 

Thoughts to self:

-Was he peeing into the recycling bin?

-Was he awake or asleep?

-Is he really, as I’ve wondered before, some type of wild animal and this is my confirmation???

As I pondered all of this, I also contemplated that I didn’t feel like being this awake yet and would rather deal with it when I woke up. 

At 10am I FLEW out of bed and ran to find BFWB, who of course had no clue what I was talking about and zero recollection of it. Perfect.

I made him go and inspect the recycling bin for evidence, yet—nothing.

Carpet? Dry.

Now, I KNOW what I saw. I did not make it up. My eyes did not play tricks on me.

And then…I glanced down to the right where Cary’s lovely beach bag was sitting.  Inside of it, rested her pretty sarong and copy of “The Secret.” All soaking wet.

With.

Pee.

Yes, folks. That’s right.

BFWB pissed on “The Secret.” LITERALLY.

I’m not really sure what’s much better in life than that.

Who can even make this shit up???

Le sigh...

And yet “The Secret” continued to play a role in my weekend….

Exhausted and partied out, the whole wrecking crew from the week finally departed the island on Saturday, leaving me with another couple who I’m quite fond of for the rest of the weekend.  However, I’m not quite fond of being the 3^rd wheel, even though they’re awesome about making me feel comfortable.  They went with me to the Inn, my fave [and only!] Kismet dive for happy hour to listen to a band before we headed back to make some magic in the kitchen.  As we were watching the band, my mind wandered back to Girl’s Name and the fun night we had in Kismet earlier in the summer.  I knew he was just visiting that one time and not a regular, and earlier in the week I had cooked up some crazy scheme about texting him something strategic that could possibly lead to him coming to visit me out there….and then, I came to my senses.  What am I, a character on Gossip Girl? Who schemes??!

Anyway, when we left the Inn to eat dinner I accidentally [on purpose] left my credit card at the bar so I’d have to go back and get it later, banking on the fact that my friends would probably pack it in after dinner, which would be WAY too depressing/-adventurous for Lindsey.  Plus I have a girlfriend who has a house out there and she said she’d meet me for a drink around 12a at the Inn.

I got there a bit before her and went back out to watch the band for a bit.  I glanced around to see who was hanging around and, lo and behold, there he was! Girl’s Name sitting right there watching the band!  Or, at least I was pretty sure it was him.  I mean, it had been awhile.  So I snuck around like a stealth panther trying to confirm if I was right, without him seeing me of course.  Once I was 99% sure it was him and that he was not there with any other girl, I made my move. Over text, of course! Who would dare do anything in person? The real reason was to see if he was even interested enough to text back. Plus, since my friend hates all the people in the bar [and most people in general], she insisted on sitting out in front with our beers, so I shot Girl’s Name a text:

ME: Are you in Kismet tonight?

HIM: Yep, at the Inn. You?

ME:  Yep! Thought I saw you. I’m out front.

HIM: I’m paying my tab and coming to find you.

ME [to self]: Awww yeeeeah!  Thank you, Universe for sending me some Grade A man fun!

And find me he did. 

Damn that is one good lookin’ dude, I must say! Tall, dark, sparkling green eyes.  Name of a girl be-damned, this guy really does it for me! Not to mention he’s way funnier than I remembered and we totally bonded over all the music we like.  He came back to the house and we had a blast.  Another 5am’er…sheeesh I really am too old for this shit.  I think I say that to myself at least every other day, if not every SINGLE day. 

Can someone decent please come along so I can get some fucking sleep???!!

It’s time for some more Botox, STAT.

However, well worth it.  I’d say that closed out my beach stay quite nicely.  Maybe there’s a little bit of merit to this whole “The Secret” thing after all.  Or, maybe I just got lucky. 

{yes, there’s a double-entendre in there, just in case you were wondering…}

That will do it for beach stories for the summer. But don’t worry…I’m already working on post-beach as you read this. 

Stay tuned my pretties!