Adventure in the Desert: Things Float

Hope floats.
Expectations float.
So does Sorrow.

Big Boys float exceptionally well. And with buoyancy come responsibility, especially when you're around Chasers and Admirers. If you're out in the open water of a Big Boy pool party you have to imagine yourself festooned with signal flags like a large yacht. Except your flags are screaming "NOTICE ME!"

And if you're a Big Boy out in the open waters of a Big Boy pool party and you've decided to take advantage of the clothing optional portion of the 'clothing optional resort', well . . . you might just as well have salted the water with chum and jumped into the shark tank! Because sweetie your freak flag is now flying and reading "ALL ABOARD WHO'S COMING ABOARD!" You no longer have the metaphoric target painted on your back, you have a small plane circling around you trailing a banner that says "HERE HE IS! -->". You have become the number one offshore destination for all interested chasers & admirers for 2 reasons. 1) You're naked. 2) And you're naked! You've just taken the game to another level and made all the prizes within arm's (mouth, toes, feet, fingers, hands, penis) reach. Now you'll have to decide if you're repelling borders, swimming for shore, or having more people ride you than 'It's A Small World'.

And here I am. Safely ensconced on a lounger, a table by my side filled with cold beverages & snacks, and observing the mating rituals of the natives like Jane Goodall. Big Boys float, their admirers swim about like krill tempting a whale, some are bolder and just latch onto a Big Boy like a limpet mine, others play a little 'slap & tickle' while eying the edges of the pool for something larger or more accessible.The give and take of the mating dance, separating your prey from the herd, the belief that 'less is not more'. It's a party and Boys (Big & Small) just want to have fun.

And here I sit, above it all in more ways than one. Have I sprayed on my Victorian Morals as easily as my sunscreen? Why am I looking down my haughty and oh so aristocratic nose at all this activity and bubbling testosterone? Do I feel that I'm better than that, or am I just feeling above it all? Why am I building walls and defenses against well meaning gents that find me attractive? I mean literally . . . I've pulled a double lounger as far back from the action as possible, I've ensconced it partially behind a cast concrete table & a set of chairs, I moved a side table on the other side of the loungers to keep anyone from approaching from that side, and I'm keeping my nose buried in my 'Kindle' with a set of noise cancelling 'Bose' headphones playing Wagnerian opera at a pretty good volume, while wearing a pair of sunglasses so big & dark that Elizabeth Taylor would've envied. I'm so far removed from the action I just might as well have stayed in Orange County.
Why the hell have I traveled 90 minutes and 93 miles to come to this party and sit by this pool to not participate? Is it me, has my deep down shyness exploded forth with a vengeance? Is it the men, I remember saying at one point "Why the hell am I going to float along & let some guy grope me when I wouldn't even give the same guy the time of day at Starbucks?" Is it the fact I'm missing my former boyfriend so much that I've immobilized myself?

Flotsam and Jetsam float.
So does baggage.