Our Last Hawaiian Day

On Saturday, Bridget and I slept in, due to late-night activities and slight hangovers. We had appointments for massages at 10 am, so had to get moving by then. I felt rather bad for the masseuse since neither of us took showers. We must’ve reeked of alcohol.

Bridget had never had a professional massage before (the half-assed ones from her ex don’t count – 5 minutes of light rubbing followed by ‘oh, now it’s my turn’ leaves a bit to be desired…) She wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I knew that she would love it.

We showed up on time (barely, even though it was right downstairs) and signed in. The courtyard where we waited was pretty, with a little waterfall and green foliage, downright restful. It would’ve been heaven, if not for the slight headache I had which made the sound of the falling water echo in my brain (more proof that I lost my mind long ago).

The Lotus Spa

We got called in and I got to explain to Bridget that she had to get naked. Bridget hates to get naked. She’d keep her clothes on in the shower if she could figure out how to get everything washed without a lot of hinderance. Which I find amusing, since she likes to wear bikinis. But she does strip down and slide under the sheet. She even has me take a picture for posterity!

Bridget’s Massage

Our masseuses come in and it’s an hour of pure bliss, chasing away my headache. I have her work extra on my shoulders and feet. The time flew by too quickly, as it does when you’re really enjoying something. The masseuse leaves us our water and we slowly come back to reality. As I expected, Bridget loved it and wished it could’ve continued for longer.

We get dressed and wander back out to the courtyard, moving slowly. The sound is less echoey with my headache gone. We lounge for a while, enjoying the serene environment.

Bridget in the Courtyard

When we get moving, we decide to spend some time in the hotel pool before we have to meet my Aunt and Uncle for a “progressive dinner” with their church group (a fancy and time consuming way to host a pot luck ). We swim and relax.

Bridget in the Pool

Then we have to get ready for the pot luck. We meet the Aunt and Uncle at the church, have appetizers and make small talk with people we don’t know and will likely never see again (plus, most are twice our age). Usually this is a recipe for fun, but since relatives are involved and they have to see these people on a regular basis, I can’t get too wild or cantankerous (which is a shame because I’m good at both). So, we chat politely for an hour. Then we move to the next person’s house, 20 minutes away, where we have salad and chat politely for another hour. Then we go for the main course. Where we chat politely for another hour and secretly plot our escape. We decline dessert, begging off for packing purposes.

We say goodbye to the Aunt and Uncle, thanking them for everything. They really are wonderful people. We head back to the hotel and hit the bar. It’s not as populated as the previous evening since there was no luau. But my cute bartender is there. So I flirt and get a Mai Tai. And as I flirt, a young, cute guy sits down next to me. He’s a Roman archeologist (all of 24). His family has left and he’s by himself for his last night on Hawaii.

Bridget and I agree that he’s cute. Young, but cute. I plan to try to hook them up, if only for the evening. We plan to hang out for the night, go to bars, have fun. I get another Mai Tai. We wander off and I try to catch my bartender’s eye (Garrett), but he’s busy. So, we’re off! As we walk, I try to move so they walk next to each other. I encourage them to find things in common. But as we chat, it seems that I have more in common with him. Drat. This isn’t going to be easy.

We head to a not-so-busy club, where we can chat. I start a tab and (yep! Mai Tai!) get another round for everyone. We drink, they dance. I get more drinks. Then we dance. He gets drinks. Bridget goes to the bathroom. He asks, “so, do you have a boyfriend?” and I say “nope. No one permanent.”

And then there was kissing. I didn’t even see it coming (too many Mai Tais). And I’m thinking, how am I going to explain this to Bridget? Then, there was more drinking. Way too much drinking.

Whatever His Name Is

We head back to the hotel, where there’s more kissing. And part way through the night, I realize, I don’t remember his name. I’m sure I got it at the beginning of the evening. But I can’t for the life of me remember what it is.

In the morning, I ask Bridget what his name was. She just laughs at me. To this day, she still won’t tell me. So, I’ve named him Jason.

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