Ok, I’m pretty good when it comes picking up guys I like. I don’t even have to do much. I talk and people seem to come around me and ever since I arrived in Tobago, I found this gorgeous looking guy from Denmark and I started the internal drool process.
So I found the most essential three things about him. He’s not gay. He’s single. He’s 28.
And I managed to make a fool of myself in one session.
So I discreetly invite him out to a lovely swim, and he’s cute and he’s sexy and I’m blushing and blundering and decide to go into the water.
I swim a little bit and then slowly float to the shore and me, in my stupid little head, think it’s a good idea to sit with my butt on the ocean floor and let the waves wash over me. But they don’t gently wash over me. They hit me like stones, they roll me about, they tumble me upside down and with my butt in the air, they roll me back and forwards like a huge rolling pin and I am sitting there trying to breathe, thinking that other people have drowned in less water.
I am surfacing filled with mud, sand in my knickers, sand in my bra, my nose filled with sea water and slowly starting to leak mucus and I have never felt more embarrased.
Ocean 1 – Me 0.
You win ocean, you win this round.