What would you do if you had two nights alone with your spouse in a suite overlooking the beach, across from the boardwalk? Stay out all night, dine in an expensive restaurant, have monkey sex all night long. WRONG! You wouldn’t do any of that. Or maybe that’s just me and my husband. Maybe we’re just old. Or tired. Or beaten down.
We had our chance, though, it’s been a few years since we were able to go away overnight for more than one night and just be us. I’m not going to say it wasn’t scary. On the drive up to Santa Cruz we wondered if we would fight, if we would even like each other for two days without the distraction or realization that we had the mutual task of having to control our kids in public and therefore it’s in our best interest to be united.
We found ourselves in a hotel right on the beach with a large deck that cooked under the sun. For some reason things were going right. We were actually upgraded from a pool room to a beachfront room. The weather finally heated up and we found ourselves in the midst of glorious, defrosting, 96-degree heat. We drank beers on the deck, stumbled down to the beach and frolicked in the ocean. We actually frolicked. At least that’s what I’m calling it. I’m not sure if anyone actually frolicks any more so I’m bringing frolick back.
We hung out on the boardwalk which is famous to us as the boardwalk featured in the 80s vampire movie The Lost Boys, and searched for vampires. That chick right there, she’s one. That guy with the grizzled beard and the one wandering eye dancing to nothing in particular, he’s definitely one. We shared a deep fried Twinkie (OMG absolutely so good and worth clogging an artery) then we went back to our room, slightly drunk, I’ll admit, and had a wonderful night’s sleep.
When you wake up to the Nickelodeon Channel blaring, with an empty beer bottle at your bedside, broken chips all over your undies and part of the waffle cone from a Choco Taco ice cream stuck to the side of your face it’s a good indication you partied pretty hard. Right?
“Last night was a blast,” I told Ron chipping waffle cone from my cheek.
“Can you believe we were eating chips and drinking a beer at–wait a minute–whoa, I think it was 8:45 when we got in bed,” Ron said. “That’s so sad.”
We hadn’t had that much to drink but it was slow in coming back to me. Then I remembered how we had talked about closing the windows because it was time for the young kids to start revving up. It was sad. Left up to our own devices we party like our boys would–minus the beers.
At least we are refreshed, convinced we really do like each other, and a new resolve to leave the partying to the youngins.