March 12, 2013 by E.
One of my favorite places in the entire world is my family’s beach house on a small island in the Gulf of Mexico. 70 years ago, my grandfather took Boy Scout camping trips to this island, back when it was nothing but palm trees and mosquitos and sand dunes and you could buy the entire island for $3,000. 50 years ago, when my grandparents took my father and his siblings to the island, they all stayed in a two bedroom shack my grandparents had built. 24 years ago, when my parents took me to the island, the sleeping quarters had been slightly upgraded, but only just.
There were 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a living room. The only source of water was rain water we collected in large cisterns under the house (during dry season, things like showering and flushing the toilet were closely monitored and highly regulated). Cable and satellite did not exist at the beach; for entertainment we watched the sunset and then played cards until bedtime, when I’d fall asleep still feeling like I was being rocked by the ocean waves. During the summer, all of my family converged on this island for a week, and a house that could comfortably sleep 7 was all of a sudden sleeping 14 to 20. It was noisy, it was chaotic, and it was thrilling. The beach, even though it was our “second home”, is where I have some of my fondest childhood memories. That island is part of who I am.
So when A. and I started dating, and especially once he told me he loved me, I knew I had to take him to the island. My hometown, a small city in Central Florida, was unimpressive and had no real insights to offer. But the beach, that was where I grew up. That was the history I wanted to share with him.
After graduation, A. and I flew down to Florida to spend a week at the beach with my family. (Fortunately, not all of my family. Lord knows I love them, but they can be overwhelming, especially to an only child from a small family.) My parents, brother and his best friend, along with my aunt and uncle and their two dogs, were all at the beach that week. Naturally, A. and I weren’t afforded a whole lot of alone time, but we did find ways to sneak off by ourselves.
Sex on the beach is so much more than a delicious alcoholic beverage, my friends.
Check back later this week to read about our island exploits.