Life is full of little ironies and "fuck you" moments. Take, for example, my present situation. Here I am, currently in the smack dab center of the 1st legitimate vacation I've taken in literally five years where I'm not with a boyfriend, a kinda sorta boyfriend (see: boyfriend) or have a boyfriend (kinda sorta or otherwise) at home. I'm not seeing anyone, lying to anyone or lying about anyone. No guy next to me at the bar wondering how many more drinks I'm going to insist on ordering before requiring help back to the room, and no guy a plane ride away wondering who is going to help be back to the room in their absence. I am 100% totally and completely single. Not only am I single, but I just may be on that little thing known as the rebound.
I'm traveling with my -also single- girl friend Jami and her elderly father. Island hopping the Mediterranean on a cruise ship equipped with all the necessities (numerous bars, dance floors, drink specials, a casino and more) for an unforgettable eventful time full of somewhat fuzzy or forgotten events and bad decisions. You'd think this wouldn't be hard to accomplish, taking into account a few of my last cruises which included (but aren't limited to) a threesum-gone-wrong with a somewhat odd young couple from upstate New York who may or may not have stolen my Coach bag and credit cards before depositing me at the door of my cabin where my then boyfriend (for about, oh, another week or so) was happily waiting for me with open arms. Or not.
Or a couple years later when I went away with my kinda sorta boyfriend whom I began referring to as my kinda sorta ex by the 2nd night after ending up half naked (OK, it could have been fully, but half sounded slightly better) in an empty conferance room at 2am with a sweet guy from Jersey. I say sweet mainly because he had a girlfriend back home, so nothing REALLY happened. Pretty sure by the end of that week I'd thrown a beer bottle at my kinda sorta boyfriend's head in the diner one night and then the next night almost got into a physical altercation with another girl for making a negative comment about my kinda sorta boyfriend's appearance. Come to think of it, I have no clue how I didn't get thrown off that ship. But anyway.
Then last year I went away with my 78 year old godmother and fell head over heels in lust (and in bed and in the hot tub and in the back of the ship) with an ex heroin addict I'd found a 'true' connection with after six or so drinks. Nevermind the fact he was technically breaking his parole by having those drinks with me or that he couldn't over exert himself due to his bad heart from all the drugs hed done in his past (and unknown to me at the time, would continue to do in his future). I think we convinced both each other and ourselves by the end of that week, that wed be able to have an actual relationship afterward between Connecticut and New York. One extended weekend at his Aunt's in Westchester and a year of spiradic text messages back and forth later, I have to admit I think the spark is gone.
Which brings us to the now. The now being day five of an 11 day cruise, and the only guy I've shared a drink with has been Jami's father. Granted, due to time zone changes and a Rx bottle of Sonata sleeping pills curtosy of my therapist (I feel as though I should send him a thank you card. Possibly Hanukah themed) I've been in bed by 6pm almost every night and have slept more these past few days than I have the past few weeks combined, so I could be hindering my opportunities of meeting people, but from what I've heard from the few people I've conversed with, I'm not missing much
.
Maybe its the time of year (finals weeks for college student, all of the holidays) or maybe its the economy (the airfare was dirt cheap! Really!) Or maybe its the itinerary (I can see how the Carribean may sound more appealing to my generation over pyramids and Greek temples) but whatever it is, this ship is all but devoid of anyone between the ages of 21-31. Those that are, are either newlyweds or don't speak English. Neither of which are much fun to socialize with in my current mind set.
I chatted with one couple at a lounge yesterday evening during happy hour. They were from Oregon and might have been fun to hang out with were they 15 years younger and not only trying desperately to pretend that they were. I almost wanted to tip the wife off that having their eight year old daughter sitting between them at the bar sipping ginger ale out of a champagne glass (oh, how cute! She's in training) while her parents got sloshed over predinner drinks was probably what was giving them away.
And so I'll have to conclude, at least thus far, that there will be no threesums, drunken brawls or late night hot tub adventures during the course of this cruise vacation. Although that's not about to stop me from ordering a more likely than not sickingly sweet drink of the day. The Acropolis. Thank you, Athens.
Oh. And bartender, I think the eight year old will take hers in a sippy cup, you can just send her parents the rehab bill.
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