So, here we are at Villas de Cerritos in our little palapa covered bungalow, having a great time, hablamos un pequito Espanol, and this single girl arrived last night and decided my tugboat man was gonna be her little surf buddy.
She hung around on our patio last night while were were relaxing after dinner, checking Magic Seaweed with my hub and regaling us with tales of how she just broke up with her fiancé BLAH BLAH BLAH.
She looks to be in her thirties, is (was) kinda pretty, longish hair, athletic body as you’d expect for a surfer.
She finally left.
This morning, we got up early, had coffee, and hub went surfing. I can’t upload the pics yet ‘cos of slow and intermittent internet, but there are some photos of twelve foot faces and EPIC conditions.
About half an hour after he left, SHE came by sniffing around, looking for him. I told her he was gone.
Now, honestly, after twenty-plus years, I am not a jealous person; he’s given me no reason to be jealous, but I was picking up on some vibes, and you know what they say about women’s intuition, right?
I had a leisurely second cup of coffee and some fresh figs; straightened up before slathering myself with sunscreen and heading down to the beach.
I had a premonition that she was going to be standing right next to my tugboat man staring at the waves, and guess what?
I was right.
I watched her for a minute, observed her body language, and had to hold myself back from kicking the shit out of her. Literally. For reals. No. REALLY.
I continued toward the beach and took a left so that i was south of where they were standing by about one hundred feet, unrolled my towel and sat down.
Finally, hub scanned the beach and saw me.
I did not.
I did not.
Instead, I called upon every ounce of self control and impulse control in my powers.
Smoke was pouring out of my ears, my nose, any and all orifices were roiling and boiling.
Shit was about to hit the proverbial fan.
More later. Gotta go.