The Boxer And The Hippie

My sights were set on the Brewer when I met the Boxer and the Hippie. For that reason, I paid them fairly little mind that Friday night at Muchies Bluues.

The Boxer spoke with me first. His interest apparent, he was unquestionably good looking. But, the Brewer’s presence proved too strong a distraction from the chiseled shoulders and masculine jawline of the Boxer to the left of me.

Still, I’ll play… “From where are you traveling?”

“Norway.”

I have become reliant on this question as a means of deciphering those passing through from the few here to stay.

“And, where are you boys staying?” I motioned to his friends.

“His place over Majagual,” he motions to the Hippie.

As if instinctually (he lives here…), my attention was averted.

“You live here?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied the Hippie.

“Me too!”

To my response, likewise glued his attention. A single girl, who also lives here? I felt the immediate pull of his affection.

I read truth in his intentions. And while lacking the muscularity of the Boxer, the strength of the light beyond his eyes proved powerful enough to not only catch but to hold my attention. He was beautiful. For the moment, the Brewer was forgotten. A moment as brief as my flirtatious eye would permit, but productive, as I had had garnered both an invitation and directions to his hilltop hacienda. My attention redirected.

“When heading into town from your casa, take a sharp left and follow the dirt road through a series of ups, downs and round-abouts until you reach a paved ascent. At the highest point, and when the pavers end, take a right. There will be a sign with the Spanish translation for ‘Morning Light.'” Ooh… Adventura!

The next morning was spent following up on emails, solidifying pending guest reservations for my healthy home, selfie-ing and posting on social media: You CAN change your life. You CAN live Everyday Better. YOU CAN DO IT! #BODYbybianca

Then, past noon, I strapped on my hiking boots, leashed Bear and followed by a golden retriever named Bambu, we headed for adventure.

It was a hot afternoon, but the promise of a pool and a cold beverage upon arrival was enough motivation. To Morning Light…

We found the house deserted. So, continued toward the playa where he promised he would be with his puppy in tow. It was on the beach where our day turned night was intercepted as we arrived just before sunset to find the Boxer and his eight-pack sitting on the rocks overlooking the tide.

Damn! He was good looking…

TBC. xob

Smith Jerrod

It’s that episode from Sex And The City when Samantha waits it out for Smith Jerrod at his restaurant, eyeing her opponent as her opponent eyed Smith Jerrod.

When I got to Café Revolucion she was sitting at my seat. I felt I had interrupted something, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Maybe she was filler, it was me he’d planned to meet. The back of her head fell with long blond waves, I knew she was surfer girl, I also knew from the back of her head that on the front of her face, her eyes were gazing intently at el surfista I had hoped would be gazing intently at me.  Still, I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t going anywhere until he for which I had come was rightfully with me.

I looked muy bonita. Red skirt, short and tight, blue top, soft fabric said please touch me, black combat boots said don’t fuck with me; I am tough enough for your jungle life. My hair was perfection! The walk down the hill had it wind-tossed just enough to give the appearance I hadn’t just spent 20 minutes in the mirror.

The complexity I saw easily when he looked at me made him far from simple, but both his lack of power, nor a roof above his bed meant he would not get on with a girl with a pension for a blown dry.

So I waited it out. No, he didn’t offer up his chair, nor did he revert his attention to me, exclusively. I played it cool. But if his body language wasn’t going to tell the girl with the annoyingly alluring Aussie accent to bounce, my body language would, with a smile on my face. I’m nice, I’ll be your friend; I’m a bitch, I will cut you.

He talked a big game the other day, wanting me to stay, so I couldn’t understand why now he’d pull away; not when we possibly have only today. I had hoped, after all, he’d be a reason to stay. Not that the magnificence of this jungle beach would ever drive me away. I am here.

Well, she left. Then we left. Together.

xo,
Jane